part 1, part 2, part 2.5, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12
overview: following the events from mw2 (2022) through to mw3 (2023) and after, with a bit of a spin.
after being separated from soap during the mission in las almas, things take a turn for the worst as ghost narrowly escapes from death. all seems to be well throughout the following months of physical therapy, as advised by the task force's long trusted medic, but things go south once again when she goes missing during the mission later in november to take down makarov once and for all.
any warnings that apply will be stated within each part (part 8 only available on ao3)
“Clear.” The call buffers, before the movement on the screen becomes fluid again. “You’re a little late, Captain.”
“I know, I apologise. We–“
“I don’t need to hear it, old man.” Farah’s image closes the distance with the camera. “I’m losing my army– I’ve lost Alex. He is the only American that walks with us, and his captors could fabricate anything to make it seem like his disappearance was our doing.”
“Farah, I know.” He pauses. “We got a video from the Russians. That’s who they’re with.”
“It’s obvious that is who they’re with, Captain. And he’s not going to stop there– Makarov has my people, and he’s going to take more of them if I stay here like a sitting duck.”
Price nods slowly. “That’s why I asked to see you.” He brings his chair closer to his desk, so he’s closer to the camera. “Things have changed for us. We act on our own orders now.”
Farah’s brows raise. “What about the General?”
“Not our concern anymore.” The response is immediate. Just the mention of the man is still enough to temporarily revive the fury from his betrayal.
“We need your army to join ours. What’s left of them, anyway.”
“But our numbers will still be small, Captain.”
“I know,” He nods, “Kate and I have arrangements being made to bring an ally with us.”
“Shadow Company.” Farah seemed to catch on as soon as the word ‘ally’ left Price’s mouth. “I thought they were off the papers after the last time you were in Urzikstan.”
“We need all the help we can get, if we want any chance at stopping a third world war.”
On the monitor, Farah’s image nods silently.
“When do we meet?”
Price taps the screen of his phone. 22:43.
Looking off to the side, he drums his fingers along his desk as he contemplates an action plan.
“Tomorrow. Midday.”
“What’s our ETA?”
“Ten minutes!” The pilot shouts.
Most of the journey is spent in silence. Gaz and Simon are sat side by side, while Price sits opposite. The Captain keeps his eyes down the entire time, and Simon’s gaze is stuck somewhere off to the side. Gaz momentarily looks between his superiors, usually for the most of five seconds, before he brings his attention to some part of his gear.
“Should’ve listened when you said you wanted an airstrike on those yanks, LT.” The Sergeant comments offhandedly.
Simon exhales heavily. “Believe me, if I could have it my way…”
Ten minutes pass and the plane lands. Price is the first to walk out, with Simon and Gaz following behind.
“Still have fond memories of the last time we were here, Sergeant?” Price asks over his shoulder.
Gaz can’t help but scoff. “Very.”
A 4x4 soon arrives by their side, and the driver rolls the window down to reveal Farah in the passenger seat.
“Get in, quick.”
Around half an hour of driving, mostly off road, leads them to what can only be a safehouse. A sizeable facility, though considering Urzikstan’s circumstances, it probably won’t last for Farah’s army much longer.
As they step through the doors, the Brits are met with a sight that wouldn’t imply an army under threat. Soldiers having tea, others playing board games, a few on their lonesome taking naps in their own corners. A circle of a few more at some far end looking to have lunch too, if the faint aroma of food was anything to go by.
“You keep a good morale, Farah.” Gaz says, walking a little beside her.
She gives a firm nod. “Of course. We deserve at least some normalcy.”
She leads the men past where the soldiers are concentrated, through a corridor and over to an unoccupied room. She opens the door for them, and calls out a few names before she follows in behind them.
Four more walk into the room a minute later. Two that seem to be just slightly senior to Price, and the other two around similar age to Farah.
“These are some of my best people,” Farah gestures to the older man first, “Captain Shahir,” then the older woman, “Captain Fairouz,” and finally the younger man and woman, “Second Lieutenant Selma and Lieutenant Badr.”
Price and Gaz shake hands with the four, while Simon simply nods in greeting.
“They will be your main points of contact when I can’t reach you,” she continues, “and they will head the groups as we move through Russia and Urzikstan.”
“About that,” Price quickly cuts in, “I had a chat with Laswell before we made our way here. Our…” He grips the edges of his tac vest. “… troubles go much further than we anticipated.”
Farah’s head tilts and her brows furrow.
“Russia, Urzikstan...” Price bows his head, letting a heavy exhale escape, “France, and the States as well.”
An overbearing silence settles over the room.
“Those Russians definitely know how to cover their ground.” Gaz remarks with a scoff.
“They do it too well.” Simon adds, “They might even start a war, since they seem to think we’ll let ‘em.” He turns his gaze towards Price. “What’s Laswell had to say, boss?”
The captain clears his throat, and looks around the room. ”Well, our main issue is missiles at the moment. They’ve got a few in the US, thought to target only within the US, and what’s in Russia and France are presumably for locations in Europe. And as for Urzikstan,” he sighs, “well, it’s familiar enough what we have on our hands.”
Farah scoffs quietly and shakes her head. “It’s just familiar. Of course.” She looks towards Price, her gaze lingering.
The Captain remains silent. He knows he’s in no place to interrupt her.
“Every time Urzikstan gets even a moment of liberty, it’s gone like this,” She snaps her fingers, “and our struggle returns like it never left. We’re losing a tug of war that we only briefly had a chance of winning.” Her slow steps towards him punctuate the silence. “You have been a friend of Urzikstan for a long time, Captain. But,” Farah sighs through her nose, “it is becoming hard for me to see how much your allyship can really help us.”
“Farah’s right,” Fairouz chimes in from behind, “surely you’ve had at least some chance at stopping the Russians before.”
Simon still stands against the wall, but the Captain can see his expectant gaze in his peripheral. It doesn’t seem like Gaz is wanting to offer any words of support, either.
“There have been close encounters,” Price eventually says, “but I’ve… also had lapses in judgement.” The aftermath of the stadium in Verdansk rolls through his mind. Paired with the events of the Channel tunnel too, it causes a weight to settle in his chest.
If only he hadn’t stopped Soap that day. And if only he’d ignored the General for once on that airstrip.
“If there’s one thing you hold me to today... let it be my promise to get you your people back, Farah. Believe me, I’ll stop at nothing to make sure it’s done.”
Farah’s eyes stay on him for an extended moment, before she wordlessly steps back.
Captain Shahir then clears his throat. “We had an American on our side as well. He is an honourable man. I’m sure you know he was…”
“… taken,” Price finishes, and he nods, “we’re aware.”
“The first line of action we had planned was to get the help of the whoever is able from the soldiers in hostage to get Alex out,” Simon says, “but we’ll need to be ready to stop those missiles at the same time.”
“So you’ll need us to split.” Captain Fairouz says, to which the three Brits nod.
“There’s more to what Laswell’s found. Now that we’re all here,” Price’s gaze moves across everyone in the room, “we’ll finalise our allocations with her on the line.”
Simon is in the background, leaning against the wall, while Gaz stands beside Farah and her soldiers. Price stands opposite to Gaz, waiting for the call to connect on Laswell’s side.
“Laswell,” the captain greets, “let’s skip the pleasantries. We’ve got a few new faces who’ll need a rundown.”
“Glad you could join us,” Laswell begins, “I’m sure you’re all aware we’ll have to spread across Russia, Urzikstan, France, and the US.”
The Urzik soldiers nod collectively.
“We’ll be working with a few others once we get Alex and the rest of your soldiers back. If Alex agrees, I want him to come back to the US so he can join the Demon Dogs again to deal with the threat we have here.”
Farah and her soldiers look between each other.
“You still want Alex to fight?” Farah asks, stepping closer to the laptop.
“Not exactly. I wanted to have him by my side to help lead the US side of the operation. He knows how his men work best, after all.”
Farah leans her weights against the table, directing her gaze down to the side for a moment.
“Alright,” she eventually concedes, “But I remember the Captain mentioned there are a few missiles in America. Alex is a competent man, and I am sure his men are too. But only one team cannot handle such a threat.”
“I know.” The silence from Laswell seems to drag on.
“So it’s true. You will be bringing in the Shadows.”
“… Yes.” Laswell sighs, slightly relieved she didn’t have to say it herself. “Price told you why?”
“I did,” the Captain answers, “I think we all know by now that a coalition is our only option, realistically.”
A heavy exhale leaves him. Though he’d been one of the first to suggest the idea, it doesn’t mean he’d done so with pleasure. It definitely wasn’t a matter of trust, either – this was a matter of necessity.
“Boys,” Laswell suddenly cuts in, “now I need you to decide. Assuming Alex will go along with the Demon Dogs, we have our US allocation sorted. That leaves us with France, Russia and Urzikstan.”
“I’ll opt for Russia.” Simon says almost immediately as he steps forward.
Price and Gaz are the first to look towards him. They’re well aware of at least one reason why he’d want to head there.
Gaz looks back at the monitor. “I’ll stay in Urzikstan.”
His gaze then turns towards Farah.
Farah nods, as does Laswell.
“That leaves me to France, I suppose.” Price finally says, “Who have I got waiting over there, Laswell?”
“Special Forces Command’s RPIMA. I’ll be in contact with their forces so they know to expect you.” A momentary pause. “As for our new additions, I’ll let you decide amongst yourselves who you go with. We’ll talk again once we’ve cleared our respective areas, and hopefully… we can finally get a move on Makarov.”
The line cuts from Laswell’s end, and Price closes the laptop. He turns to everyone else in the room.
“So?” He asks, tilting his head.
Captain Fairouz pipes up first. “I’ll go with the Lieutenant.”
Price looks towards Simon with a brow raised.
“Fine by me,” he affirms, “but I’ll need arms supplying and evac support, if we’re expecting our numbers to change while we’re there.”
“I’ll join Fairouz,” Selma chimes in, “Russia is where we need most of the power.”
“I’ll join the Captain’s side,” Captain Shahir looks towards Price, “if he will have me.”
Price nods firmly.
“Badr, that leaves you to stay with me and the sergeant.” Farah finally says, to which the lieutenant nods in silent agreement.
“Good stuff.” Price takes the laptop, and moves towards the door first. “Time’s burning. Let’s all get a move on.”
“Be a good sergeant for the commander, yeah?” Price pats Gaz’s shoulder as he moves towards the plane. The younger man simply shakes his head.
Simon crosses Gaz next.
“See you later, Lieutenant.” The sergeant holds out a fist towards the man.
It takes him a few seconds, but Simon eventually knocks his fist against Gaz’s.
“See you around, Garrick.”
“Are you sure you want to go after the Shadows yourself?”
“I’ve got enough evidence to take them back into court. And with the General gone, they’ll have no other leverage. They’ll only make things harder for themselves if they don’t comply.”
Captain Shahir was yet to accompany Price, having momentarily excused himself to gather his troops, leaving Price some extra time to get a few last words in with Kate.
“Let’s hope they don’t get ahead of themselves, then.” Price takes a breath. “And about France… it’ll have to be in and out.”
“What?” Kate retorts. “We’re talking about a missile here, possibly more. This isn’t something that can be rushed.”
“Those missiles are just a distraction.” The captain leans his weight on his hands against the hood. “Makarov’s tied the bone around his neck and we’ve been chasing it like starving dogs. I’ve let him live, I’ve let him slip through my fingers, and look where that’s fucking got us!” The force with which his fist hits the truck is enough to leave a dent.
A deafening silence hangs between the two.
“I don’t know what you’re thinking John, but I’m asking, for all of our sakes, think.” Kate pauses. “One wrong move and you’ll have more loose ends than you can manage.”
Price distances himself from the laptop, stopping a few steps away. The expression on his face can only be described as defeat; his eyes downcast, and it seems like all his energy has suddenly left him.
“I don’t know what I’m thinking either,” he quietly says, more to himself, “I can’t make sense of anything anymore.”
“I doubt you’re the only one,” Kate sighs, “but let’s hope we can set things straight soon enough.”
it has been wayyy too long since i've updated my fic on here, but i return with chapters 10 and 11 of blue! (chapter 11 will be posted right after this)
did i end up tweaking some of my original planning for this fic because of the mw4 trailer? maybe. and did that mean it took even longer to finish ch11? 100%. i hope this is well received :')
if this is the first time you're seeing a post about my fic, hello! the leads in my fic are simon 'ghost' riley and a medic who works alongside the 141. to summarise what's already happened so far, our female lead ends up going missing not too long after the events of mw3, which is around the same time makarov resurfaces and stirs up trouble that could lead to the start of a third world war. the demon dogs, shadow company and the ulf make a return to work together to put makarov down for good, and our british trio head to france, russia and urzikstan to put a stop to makarov's threats. ghost particularly heads to russia in hopes to get the medic back, but she isn't the same woman he once knew.
if you happen to like how this fic sounds, support me on ao3! i usually upload there first. as always, happy reading :)
Simon had never found being on leave particularly enjoyable. His routine at home wasn't much different to how he lived while he stayed on base – wake up, train, paperwork, have a sorry excuse of a lunch, maybe have dinner, and sleep. There was never any change. Not that he wanted change, anyway.
There were some days, however, where he felt there was a need for a minor addition to his routine. A walk was often the choice, since at least some exposure to the outside world is necessary. But even his walks were always consistent – he took the same number of lefts and rights, and where he crossed the road remained the same every time. The park became part of his journey too, and he’d sit on the bench on the north most side in the middle of every walk without failure.
It's as he's sat there one evening that he receives a call that he hoped wouldn’t have come so soon.
"We’re going to need to have a word about the General." That’s all Price leaves him with. When the call is cut, Simon leaves the park and takes the shortest route home.
"Lock that door behind you, Garrick."
Simon is the first to break the silence in the office. “What’s this about the General, then?”
Price stands behind his desk, back facing everyone. “Sit. We’ll be here a while.”
The sergeant and lieutenant comply, and the room holds its breath.
“He’s dead.”
“Shepherd’s dead?” Simon straightens, as does Gaz.
Price then settles into his seat, sighing deeply as he leans back. “Dead.”
Simon scoffs and crosses his arms. “Fucking hell.”
Gaz looks to Simon first, then to Price, just as baffled as the lieutenant. “When was this?”
“Not too long after the events of the Channel tunnel,” Laswell chimes in. “John and I made a decision. If Shepherd was able to act any longer, we’d be thrown into a mess we wouldn’t be able to save ourselves from.” She places her laptop onto the Captain’s desk. “When AQ had me in their hands, it was obvious that anyone but him and his Shadows were dispensable. As long as he got his name on the win, it didn’t matter what we lost.”
“What now then?” The sergeant asks. “This can’t be swept under the rug. It’s only a matter of time until they start an investigation.”
“And we’ll end up as prime suspects.” Simon adds.
“I know we’re on a time constraint,” Price cuts in, standing from his seat. “But I didn’t go into that office expecting to leave without a plan already in mind.”
From his pocket, he withdraws a flash drive contained within a zipped bag and drops it onto the desk. “And it just so happens that I received this the other day. I haven’t seen what’s on this yet, but it’ll likely be even more reason for us to act. And quick.”
“A drive,” Simon’s head tilts to take a closer look. “From who?”
“That’s what I want to know as well. They knew my name,” He picks up the drive and hands it over to Laswell. She takes the drive out with a gloved hand and plugs it into the laptop. “But all I could recognise was their voice.” Price looks up to meet Gaz and Simon’s gaze. “Russian.”
9 January 2024
A light drizzle dampens the high street John walks down. It’s been almost two months since his shot to the shoulder. Almost two months since he saw Johnny hit the ground, and watched his empty casket gradually lower beneath his feet.
In his restless dreams, he sometimes still sees that pool of blood that glistened too bright, grew too big too quickly. Sometimes he sees Johnny open his eyes, and all he does is stare. His eyes are always too wide, too white. They hold none of the joy that the Scot was so known for, only a look so haunting it’s brought John to fear closing his eyes for too long while he’s awake.
He quickens his steps and eventually reaches the grocery store he frequents. He pulls his hood off as he takes a basket, and disappears into the aisles.
He isn’t inside for long, but he moves just a little slower as he bags up his items.
Seeing the same person twice can be a coincidence. But John left behind believing in coincidences years ago. If an event’s logic doesn’t unravel itself immediately, there’s always only a matter of time before it does.
He looks both ways as he leaves the store and leaves his hood down despite the drizzle having turned into rainfall. He keeps his steps slow, so when someone bumps his shoulder hard enough for him to stumble a step back, he knows this isn’t just some moron who walks with their eyes crossed.
“The least you could do is try to be subtle.” He grits out, lowering his head as he tries to see the face beneath the hood.
“Subtle? It doesn’t matter. People mind their business, usually.” The man produces a drive, shoving it into John’s pocket before he can get a good look. He pushes the hand away as it pats his pocket and takes the stick back out, turning it over in his hand.
“What’s this?” His only answer is the Russian forcing his hand back into his pocket.
“Keep it to yourself, John. It’s in your best interest.”
As he sits on the edge of his bed later that night, he curses under his breath as his phone rings for much longer than he has patience for.
“Come on, Kate…”
The ringing tone grates on his nerves, but the line finally picks up.
“What is it, John?”
“About time,” He sighs. “I bumped into someone earlier. Gave me some sort of flash drive,” He rubs his hand over his face as his eyes move towards USB sitting on his dresser. “It was a Russian, that’s all I could tell, so fuck knows what’s on that thing.”
“Have you touched it?”
“How do you mean, “touch”?”
“Physically touched it, plugged it into anything?”
“I’ve had it in my hand. Using it is obviously out of the question.”
“I need you to keep it somewhere contained, John.”
He stops just short of his dresser. “Contained?”
“Contained. That drive could be dangerous – it’s best kept as dirty as you got it. I can get it tested to see where it’s come from, and make sure it’s not some sort of malware.”
“Thorough as always… I’ll keep it ready.”
“We’ve got our files, John.”
Price nods his head to the sergeant and lieutenant, ushering them around the laptop.
“A folder with two videos.”
Laswell loads up the first video and presses play.
At first, it’s hard to tell whether there’s anything to be seen in the video. An occasional cough echoes in the space, and a faint electrical buzzing persists. Only when the footage zooms in, do they see a nearly limp figure in the corner of what looks to be a cell.
Whoever’s recording scoffs, and begins walking.
They stop in front of another cell with two occupants. One lays still on the wet ground, while the other sits with their back against the wall, also still.
“Приведите его!” (“Bring him!”)
Footsteps move in the background, and grunts of effort and a low growling eventually join. The camera man unlocks the door to the cell, and the two occupants are immediately jolted awake as a canine is locked in with them. Their screams fill the air, while the camera moves forward.
The next few minutes show similar scenes – prisoners in their cells left to do nothing but rot, and a select few being dragged out to who knows where.
“Some camera work this is,” Gaz comments. “Can’t even tell what we’re supposed to be seeing.”
“Move it forward, Laswell,” Price follows up with a sigh. “We’ll be here all night at this rate.”
As she skips past the next few minutes, the sergeant suddenly stops her.
“There’s something, a minute back.”
Laswell drags the video back. The camera is in front of yet another cell, however the occupant is sat on a chair in the middle of the room with his wrists bound and his face covered.
The camera man unlocks and enters the cell, and another pair of footsteps follows behind.
“Принеси воду.” (“Get the water.”)
The camera man stops in front of the slumped figure and brings up the bag covering their face.
Gaz reaches forward to stop the video. No one says a word.
The footage is still as dark as it has been from the beginning. It doesn’t make the face before them any less discernible, however.
“Laswell?” When John meets her eyes, he can already tell she’s read his mind.
“You want Farah.”
He nods stiffly. “As soon as you can. This has gotten far out of hand already.”
“What’s the second video, Laswell?” Simon later asks.
She pulls up the second video and lets it play.
A light flickers over a figure, before giving out. Whoever’s in the room tries the light again but doesn’t have much success.
“Stupid fucking thing…”
One more attempt finally illuminates the space, revealing someone blindfolded and bound to a chair usually found in a doctor’s office. Chords of some kind seem to be attached to their head and arms, leading off to somewhere beyond the camera.
“Мы начинаем.” (“We’re starting.”)
Something in the background powers up.
“29 – failure to comply, 29. Failure to comply, 29. 29 – failure to comply.”
An electrical buzzing begins to get louder, and the person in the chair goes stiff briefly before their body is overtaken by convulsions. Her cries echo through the room, while the shocks continue to go on for longer than what seems necessary.
Once they stop, “29?”
She answers, clearly already fatigued, “… Failure to comply.”
Simon takes a step closer to the laptop.
“Good. Now once more.”
“No,” Sobs escape her almost like an instinct. “No–!“
The shocks begin again. Her cries ring out even louder. Simon hits the space bar with too much force.
Gaz, Laswell and Price simultaneously turn to the lieutenant.
“Simon?” Price has a brow raised. The concern is clear in his voice.
The lieutenant stares daggers into the laptop. The atmosphere in the office becomes heavier as he slowly turns towards the three.
“None of you can tell me you haven’t recognised that voice.” He grits out.
Gaz’s eyes turn to the laptop in new alarm, then back to Simon. Price’s expression pinches.
“She’s someone we know?” Price asks carefully.
The quality isn’t the best on either video, so he can’t blame them for not recognising it immediately. It doesn’t make him any less frustrated.
“That’s our fucking medic in that chair.” He reaches over and shuts the laptop before stepping away. “That video could’ve been recorded ages ago. Fuck knows what they’re putting her through now–“
“Simon–“
“I don’t want to hear it, boss.” The lieutenant turns on his heel in an instant. His fists are clenched by his side and looks about ready to pounce on the next person who dares to speak.
For a man who is the face of composure, known to rarely crack, it’s worrying for Price and Gaz to see him so wound up. But they can’t expect him not to be, not after finally being able to see the woman he’d allowed himself to care for so deeply in the worst way imaginable.
“We’ve left her with those Russians for too long already. I don’t even want to think about what they intend to do with her.”
“That number we heard - 29,” Gaz chimes in. “Sounds like they intended to through a list.”
“It has to be some sort of conditioning.” Laswell comments. “If numbers are what they’re using, they must be signals for specific sets of commands.”
“Means they’re training her for something.” Price sits back down at his desk, pulling off his beanie. “Sick bastards.”
“We can’t wait any longer to go after her, Captain.” Price leans forward as Simon takes the seat opposite him. “The Russians know we’ll be after them again soon enough. And now that they have her in their hands, there’s no doubt they’ll use her against us in some way.”
“Not just us.” Gaz leans against the desk beside Simon. “Those cells. Those were definitely Farah’s people. By the looks of things, they’ve got their hands full and won’t just stop there.”
A heavy sigh leaves Price as he pulls of his beanie and drags his hand over his head. “Fuck me…”
The office momentarily falls into a tense silence.
“Laswell.”
“John.”
“We need to get Farah on the line.” Price leaves his desk and moves towards his filing cabinets, pulling out several files and handing them to the sergeant. “I think it’s time we leave the 141 behind for something bigger.”
ooc: in light of controversy surrounding a certain rp blog and in honour of pride month, i just wanna emphasise that this blog (+ my main blog) is a safe space for anyone in the lgbt+ community and/ or of ethnic minority. as great as it is to see role-playing thrive in this fandom, the experience doesn't need racism, homophobia, ablesim, etc. to feel true to the game/ characters being portrayed.
REMINDER that we are all currently living in times where such discrimination isn't as normalised as it was in the early 2000s, and it isn't normalised for GOOD REASON! fandom spaces should be a place where EVERYONE feels comfortable, regardless of what your background is.
if you can't respect boundaries and you're going to try and push backwards nonsense, either educate yourself or keep your mouth shut.
Singing – but he’ll never do it in front of anyone
Reading – thriller, fantasy, dystopia
Football – favourite team is Manchester United
Urban exploration
Dislikes touch (depending on person)
Dislikes being passenger – has motion sickness, and by default also dislikes going on the carnival rides
Dislikes alcohol – he does drink, but unfortunately gets carried away without realising. Alcohol reminds him of his dad
Dislikes loud noises (that come suddenly) – again, reminds him of back home
MISCELLANEOUS FACTS:
Is British. As mentioned before, his family moved from England to America. Derrick was five years old when they moved.
Takes a lot of pride in his hair. NOBODY is touching that head unless it's his cousin, his cousin's girlfriend or himself.
Though he barely remembers what it's like to live in England, British "culture" still became a part of him – the football, the way he dresses, even the accent is still noticeable. Plus he always feels like there's something missing from the American way of living.
Uses his money from DJing to help pay part of his cousin’s rent (started doing so from 17), and will also pay rent upfront for any venue he plays at.
He feels guilty for leaving his mother behind, so he plans to go back to get her out when he's older, hoping she's still alive by then at least.
Before Carson found Derrick, he was living behind Bullworth's town hall.
Favourite genres of music are house, garage, and anything else that'd be played in a British club. Also big fan of Sade + soul/ R&B.
Doesn't care much to put a label on his sexuality, he likes who he likes.
Close friends with Tori Henry, who sees Derrick as an old brother figure.
Is very keen on going back to England some day. Not to live there, maybe just stay for a bit but he absolutely has no plan to keep living in America.
Wants to go pro in football, which is part of why he wants to go back to England. His favourite team is Manchester United, so that's his ideal team to get signed with. (Mentioning Manchester United around Derrick is the equivalent to activating a sleeper cell)
Why he got into DJing – it was more of a whim than anything. Heard his cousin playing some house stuff and thought, "yooo this sounds tuff." He also learnt about craigslist from his cousin, so at least he knows where to look for just about anything.
His cousin paid for some strobe lights for Derrick and chipped in a few bills to pay for the DJ set. He wasn't about to let the kid blow all his money on his first DJ set.
Though he doesn't pursue DJing as a career, he does still do it when he's an adult too. I'll say he got successfully signed for Man U but still does a few shows every now and then (and has fair prices still! What a man).
Also I'd like to think his mom did survive – Derrick got her away from her dad, who was finally arrested , and she goes wherever he does. He's always loved his mom very much, so he wants to make sure she's in his life as much as possible in his adulthood and absolutely spoils her. They would also go back to Jamaica together at some point.
LIFE AT BULLWORTH:
Simultaneously Bullworth's clumsiest and also one of Bullworth's best soccer players (he will insistently call soccer "football", and yes he has arguments over it). He has the best spatial awareness on the field. Anywhere else though? There's a good chance he'll be seen tripping over something or the other.
Gets along best with the jocks, but Derrick is non-clique. He probably still wouldn’t have been a prep if he had a decent family.
Though he hasn’t had physical or verbal altercations with them, Derrick still avoids any contact with the preps. Of course, a lot of the boys’ fathers likely know who Derrick’s father is so probably expect to talk to Derrick like he’s one of their buddies, but he’ll either just offer a smile and nothing else or just not acknowledge them at all if they attempt to strike conversation.
As mentioned, his best relations are with the jocks, but he doesn’t actually interact with them much outside of the field. The only jock he does interact with a lot and actually considers his close friend is Bo Jackson, who he sometimes hangs out with outside of school.
His second best relations are with the greasers. Living in New Coventry, the greasers are who he sees around most often outside of school, so over time he’s gotten to know them quite well. He’s closest with Norton, and is also on pretty good terms with Johnny. Outside of school, he will most likely be seen walking around New Coventry with Norton if he’s not by himself, and he could be seen going in and out of the clothes store in Bullworth Town/ New Coventry.
Derrick is more or less indifferent to the nerds, but is slightly confused about how they seem to be scared of him, even though he hasn’t actually ever done anything to them. He supposes it’s likely because of his stronger figure and his affiliation with the jocks. He’s actually had an encounter with Thad once when he was trying to go into the library, which went as far as being threatened with one of Thad’s yardsticks. Thankfully it didn’t escalate, but Derrick did spend the rest of the day on the lookout for Thad.
As expected, he excels at gym (not that it matters much to him), but he also surprisingly has a talent for writing, so he excels at English. Mr Galloway happens to be one of his favourite teachers. Otherwise, he performs averagely at academics and tries the best he can considering his situation. His worst subject is Geography, but he can’t bring himself to care much about the subject anyway.
Within school grounds, Derrick would be found primarily around the field either sitting at the bleachers or running on the field, or walking about behind the school.
OUTSIDE OF SCHOOL:
DJs on the side – his first run at DJing in Bullworth would be free entry, but if he gets enough people to come to his first gig, he'd charge entry at $5. he doesn't expect preps to want to come because it wouldn't be in their taste + he exclusively DJs around New Coventry/ Bullworth Town, but if for some reason any of them do turn out, he'd just have them turned away.
Started "officially" DJing at 17 – Derrick worked odd jobs around Bullworth to save up and went on craigslist to find a somewhat affordable set, and ended up having to go five towns over to get it. He had no personal devices at the time except for a CD player, so he went to the local library to do this. He hadn’t owned a library card before this – he went and got one literally just to go on craigslist on the public library's computer. Derrick finally got a set when he was 16, got familiar with mixing and did his first small "show" a month before his 17th bday (only had around 10 people). Fast forward to now, Derrick regularly does bigger "shows" at the indoor skatepark in New Coventry, outside of which he can be regularly found. He’d likely ask Jimmy to be his security/ bouncer guy too.
He actually only does his “shows” either once a month or every other month. Outside of this, he works a regular job from Monday through Wednesday and on the weekends as a warehouse stocker in Blue Skies.
trigger warning: mentions of sexual assault/sexual violence, mention of domestic abuse
IN SCHOOL: YES
GRADE: 12
AGE: 18
CLIQUE: NONE
RELATIONSHIP: NO
FAMILY:
Notable relative(s): Carson Kelly (cousin)
Other relative(s): Alisha Fenton (mother), Isaiah Fenton (father)
CHILDHOOD:
Derrick was sexually abused by his father for most of his life, and his mother was a victim of domestic abuse. Derrick’s mother knew about the abuse perpetrated on Derrick, however was forced to stay silent due to the abuse she herself faced as well as to keep Mr Fenton’s reputation as a businessman clean.
Derrick generally wasn’t too much trouble at school as a child, but as a result of his abuse he initially did not understand boundaries of touch with other kids. This was his primary issue, at least in elementary, but by 6th grade his teachers had managed to help him understand between the sort of touch that was and wasn’t okay. Though Derrick had always felt uncomfortable with what his father did to him, it was at this point where it was solidified for him that what his father was doing was definitely wrong.
He began thinking about running away when he was eleven. With his home situation, he feared he’d never be able to reach out to anyone about what was being done to him and therefore saw no way of the abuse stopping. He prepared two bags in case he ever did, and he later went ahead to do so at 13 years old after his dad had attempted to r*pe him.
He’d continuously debated whether he should report his father to the police, however, the thought that he’d be forced to return home if the police figured out he’d ran away, as well as generally not knowing how he’d report his father, deterred him. With much difficulty, Derrick decided to hold off on telling the police until he could figure it out.
Despite these events, Derrick was still able to attend school up to present day, where he is now a senior. He supposes his father had an inkling that he still attended school and therefore paid for Derrick so that he could continue attending. The only reasoning for this that Derrick can think of is for his father to keep his reputation clean.
A couple months after Derrick ran away, his older cousin, Carson, found him wandering around Bullworth Town. After a catch up, he then decided to take Derrick under his care even though he wasn’t too well off himself. Derrick has lived in New Coventry ever since.
FAMILY BACKGROUND:
Isaiah owns an electric power company, initially starting in England but had his company relocate to America, and moved with his family as a result. His company manages the generation of electricity for the entirety of Bullworth.
Isaiah is quite well known around Old Bullworth Vale and is also good friends with Mr Harrington. Derrick was also somewhat familiar with Derby Harrington because they went to the same elementary, but growing up has come to hate the Harrington name because of Mr Harrington’s continual friendship with his father.
Alisha works as a nurse, specialising in children’s nursing. She was also a nurse while she lived in England.
Derrick’s parents are from Jamaica. Both speak Jamaican Patois, but Alisha had some Spanish speaking extended family she grew up around, so she can also somewhat speak Spanish. Derrick can understand Patois but can only speak it at a moderate level. Living with Carson, who has a better fluency, Derrick gradually learns to speak it better.
another bully oc? oh hell nah (jk i loved writing about this guy)
clearer images of him
there is just too much i've got written about derrick so i'll separate his background into more posts
some of his outfits and what i think derrick's room would look like
generically speaking of his fashion sense, he'd dress pretty similar to sam winchester from supernatural (and by extension how his actor jared padalecki dressed when he was younger)
(room maker website is rooms.xyz, also available as an app on apple)
the knocking on the front door echoes through the house.
elaine's footsteps patter down the stairs as she heads to the front door.
there's only silence for a moment. tori can catch on to the faint sound of fabric rustling, before the sound of her mother beginning to sob reaches her in the kitchen.
her head turns to where the sunlight bleeds in through the open door.
"mom?"
she dries her hands on a kitchen towel and heads to where her mom is stood, only to find her standing with her hands covering her face, her back to the soldiers in front of them.
none of them were her dad.
she tentatively steps towards them, brushing past her mom.
"we're... incredibly sorry for your loss." the man in the middle of the three men holds his arms out.
in his arms he holds her dad's uniform, with his name tag staring up at her. his dog tags lay on top.
with shaking hands, she takes the uniform. her fingers trace over the stitching that reads 'henry'. she lifts the dog tags, rubbing the cool metal between her fingers.
"we'll be holding a memorial later this month. and of course, you'll be able to oversee funeral processions. you can come to our office and you can assist our relevant team with the process."
tori nods silently, her eyes still on the uniform.
"um... do you want us to stick around for a while, ma'am? if you uh, need any... support?" asks the soldier to her right.
"they're asking if they need to stay any longer, mom." she looks to the side, but avoids looking over her shoulder.
the only response she gets is staggered breaths and choked sobs. she looks back at the three men.
"we'll come by the office when we've got the time."
tori closes the door and gently sets down her dad's uniform on the stairs. seeing her mother crouched against the wall, she sits by her side, slowly pulling her mom's head onto her shoulder.
tori doesn't go to school for the next week. when she does return, she's noticeably quieter and is rarely seen on school grounds outside of lessons.
she's also temporarily left her dorm to be with her mom. and at home, a new routine quickly becomes commonplace: get herself out of bed and ready for the day, help her mom do the same, and when she's back from school, check on mom, and make dinner. whenever she needed to shower, tori would join her, gently scrubbing along her skin and massaging the shampoo into her scalp.
sometimes, it'd bring elaine to tears. she'd pull tori to her bare chest, stroking her wet hair and whispering, "i'm so sorry, baby. you shouldn't have to do this."
elaine had grown thinner, duller. she rarely left her bed now that she hadn't been going to work, and rarely spoke. when tori would sit by her bedside for a mostly one-sided conversation, her only sign of life would be a soft, faint stroke of tori's hand.
the house had never been so silent.
it wasn't clear how tori really felt about her dad's death, however. she'd brush teachers off when they'd ask her if she was okay, and she hadn't said much to crabblesnitch either when he'd personally offered to talk to her.
very few of the students chose to speak to her, too. not out of contempt, more out of wariness and uncertainty. they just weren't sure what would be the right thing to say, apart from the obvious condolences.
during lunch one day, however, seems to be when the true face of her grieving surfaces.
tori had by now made a habit of wearing her dad's dog tags, though she hid them under her clothes. it was a small comfort, a way for her to imagine that some part of her dad was still with her everywhere she went.
standing in front of the bathroom mirror, she takes a moment to just stare at herself.
she notices how the skin beneath her eyes have slightly darkened, and the faint blotches of breakouts on either side of her cheeks. her lips are chapped and bitten, and her usually short nails about an inch in length.
it'd been so long since she'd properly looked at her reflection. so long since she'd bothered to pay attention to herself.
she pulls out the dog tags from underneath her shirt, running her thumb over the raised metal of her dad's details. they go over his birthday, 03/08/1971.
she didn't even have the chance to tell him happy birthday.
the cubicle door rattles as tori slams it shut behind her, making sure to lock it before she sits on top of the toilet.
she pulls the tags off, turning the metal around between her fingers. then her hands begin to shake, and the letters become unclear.
her breath stutters first, and the dam seems to break almost instantly.
the bell for class rings, and tori still hasn't moved. the tags are still clutched tightly in her palm, and sobs still rack her body.
she freezes when it sounds like someone else has entered the bathroom.
"it's ms phillips, i heard you from the hallway, darling. are you alright in there?"
the sniffle that echoes within her stall is an answer of its own, yet she wipes her tears and quietly answers, "i'm alright."
ms phillips' heels click closer to tori's stall. "tori, that's you in there, isn't it? you don't have to lie to me."
not a word is spoken for a moment, but it doesn't seem like ms phillips minds.
"i just wanna go home." tori shakily whispers.
she sniffles again, and another silence ensues.
"i'll have a word with dr crabblesnitch for you. you can stay in there if you want to, alright?"
though she knows ms phillips can't see, she nods, and rests her head against the cubicle wall.
ms phillips comes back to collect her, and she's soon sent back home on the school bus.
the quiet in the house would never be something that tori would gradually get used to. it'd only be a reminder of the reality tori wishes she didn't need to live through.
note: initially, i did plan to have tori's dad's death as a canon part of tori's lore, but i think i'll just let the girl have a happy family. i don't think i have the heart to ruin a healthy dad-daughter relationship :(
"i'm sorry, baby. he says he can't really tell how long it's going to be this time." tori twirls the phone cord around her fingers, trying to ignore the tremble of her lip and how her vision has started to waver.
"he says he really misses you," her mother comments quietly, noticing tori's prolonged silence, "he can't wait to see you again."
again, tori says nothing.
then,
"mom?"
"what is it, baby?"
"why did dad even decide to join?"
tori sniffles and wipes away the tears that have fallen, waiting for an answer she'd already been given many times before.
"i wish i knew, tori," her mother sighs, "i wish I knew."
tori is sat in english two weeks later, listening to mr galloway drone on about macbeth. she admires his passion for what he teaches, really, but english has never been her soft spot, so she can only go so long before her mind drifts off to la la land.
unsurprisingly, her thoughts go back to her dad. she'd called her mom again just yesterday, yet she hadn't spoken a word about him. and when she'd asked how he was doing, she brushed it off awfully quickly.
tori had thought about giving her mum an earful. she almost did, until she remembered that she's also been alone the entire time her dad's been away.
she comes back from work every day, knowing she'll have to go another night without her husband beside her in bed. she isn't woken up by a good morning kiss, and she's only been making breakfast for one, not two or three.
tori doesn't even want to imagine the nights her mom has spent where her tears have been the only thing able to put her to sleep.
she's broken out of her thoughts as the intercom crackles to life.
"can tori henry please come to the principal's office? dr crabblesnitch wants to speak to you."
her heart drops.
as she finally looks up from her desk, she sees the entire class looking in her direction, including mr galloway.
"well, i suppose you should go." he comments without much reason. "and you should probably take your things with you... it is almost the end of the day."
tori's chair scrapes backwards as she stands, and she leaves the classroom. the door slams behind her a little harder than necessary, but that's the least of her concern as she jogs over to the principal's office.
her knuckles hit the wood of the principal's door in rapid succession, and her hand is about to reach up to knock again before she hears,
"come in."
dr crabblesnitch is standing in front of his window, and he doesn't look towards tori as she steps inside.
she can feel each thrumming beat of her heart more than she wants to.
"sit down, girl. i didn't call you over for you to just stand."
she does as he says, careful not to cause the chair to creak.
"now, you aren't in trouble, but your mother called earlier today requesting you go home for the weekend."
tori swallows dryly.
"okay... but why?"
crabblesnitch clears his throat and finally turns around.
"i'm afraid it's not my place to say. she should be here quite soon to pick you up. i'm sure you'll get your explanation then."
crabblesnitch returns to looking out the window again, clearly adamant on saying no more. tori's eyes fall to his desk, her hands clenched tightly in her lap.
if crabblesnitch is being vague on purpose, it can't be for any good reason, can it?
tori almost jumps out of her skin as she hears a knock on the door.
"come in!"
tori's mom quietly comes through the door, leaving it open behind her.
"hey," she greets, moving towards tori and pulling her in for a side hug, "ready to go home?"
"yeah, obviously. but what's going on?"
"don't worry, baby. it's nothing bad." her mom strokes her hair, before she turns to the open door.
"dean?"
tori shoots out of her seat.
her dad slowly walks through the door, a smile immediately growing on his face.
"tori, baby."
she practically barrels into him, and her dad's arms wrap around her to keep her as close as possible.
tori's sobs are muffled by his clothes, joined by her dad's quiet sniffling as he presses gentle kisses to the top of her head.
her mom walks up behind them, her hand rubbing tori's back soothingly.
after she somewhat quietens down, she mumbles, "when... when did you get back?"
"last week, actually," her dad lightly chuckles, "your mom said i should rest up before i saw you, so i wouldn't be too tired to talk."
she nods against him silently, and he presses one more kiss to her head.
"how about we go get your stuff, hm? got a long weekend ahead of us."
the sound of dr crabblesnitch clearing his throat breaks the family's attention from each other. they almost forgot he was in the room with them.
"well, i hope you enjoy your weekend together. and mr henry," he walks towards the man, landing his hand on his shoulder, "thank you for your service. i couldn't be more thankful to know such an honourable man like yourself."
he only offers a nod and a tight-lipped smile, while tori can't help but roll her eyes as she pulls away from her dad.
"come on you two," tori's mom cuts in, seemingly as unkeen as her daughter to stick around to hear crabblesnitch possibly go on about the pride that is america's military, "we haven't got all day."
hiya! i've read quite a few of your posts by now and i absolutely love the way you write! could i ask for some headcanons on how a conversation with my oc nadja romero would go with omar romero, her brother (platonic oc x canon)? her info is here, but in summary, omar ran away from home when he was 15 (nadja was 12) and she's terribly missed him ever since. she's attempted to persuade him to come back home in the past but to no avail, so i'd love to see your take on a conversation between them where she finally convinces him to come back home!
Oh this dynamic HURTS in the best way
The build-up
Nadja doesn’t go looking for him intending to argue this time.
That’s the difference Omar notices immediately.
No “please come home.”
No desperation.
She just sits near him in Blue Skies while he works on something with his hands.
They sit in silence for a long time.
Omar’s immediate attitude
Defensive from the second he sees her.
“You lost or something?”
Tries to sound cold.
Can’t quite look her in the eyes for long.
He expects another fight. Another plea. Another guilt trip.
Already exhausted before the conversation even starts.
Nadja’s approach
Calm.
Quieter than usual.
Tired in a way Omar’s never seen before.
She doesn’t defend their parents this time.
Doesn’t tell him he “misunderstood.”
And that changes everything.
The moment Omar realizes something’s different
She says something like:
“I stopped trying to convince myself they treated you fairly a long time ago.”
And Omar just…
Goes still.
Completely still.
Because for years, part of him believed Nadja would always side with them in the end.
Even if she loved him.
The conversation turns real
Omar finally starts talking instead of deflecting.
Not angry yelling.
Just tired honesty.
Things he admits:
He hated hearing himself compared to her.
He knew none of it was her fault.
Sometimes he avoided her because she reminded him of everything he wasn’t.
Leaving her behind was the hardest part of running away.
And Nadja?
Crying quietly by this point.
Not dramatic sobbing.
Just silent tears she keeps wiping away angrily.
The line that breaks Nadja
When Omar mutters:
“You were the only good thing about that house.”
She fully loses composure after that.
Because that’s the thing she’s needed to hear for years:
that he never hated her,
even when he pushed her away.
Why Omar finally gives in
It isn’t because Nadja begs.
It’s because she says:
“You don’t have to forgive them.
I just want my brother back.”
That’s the line.
Not:
“Dad misses you.”
“Mom cries.”
“Things are different.”
Just:
I miss you.
And Omar finally realizes:
she isn’t trying to drag him back into pain,
she’s trying to save what’s left of them.
Omar’s reaction
Covers his face with one hand.
Laughs once, bitterly, because he’s losing the argument and he knows it.
“You don’t quit, huh?”
Voice cracking slightly.
Then quieter:
“You really still want me around after all this?”
And Nadja immediately answers:
“Always.”
No hesitation.
None.
The hug
Omar’s the one who initiates it.
Sudden.
Tight.
Like he’s afraid she’ll disappear if he loosens his grip.
Nadja nearly knocks into him from how fast she hugs back.
He buries his face against her shoulder for a second because if he looks at her, he might actually cry.
Coming home
Omar refuses to admit he’s nervous.
He absolutely is.
Nadja walks slightly ahead of him at first like she’s scared he’ll change his mind and leave.
Keeps glancing back to make sure he’s still there.
He notices every single time.
Stefan’s reaction
The second Stefan sees Omar at the door:
he stops breathing.
Completely frozen.
And Omar suddenly looks fifteen again.
Not a Townie.
Not angry.
Just tired.
Stefan tries to speak and can’t.
Nadja’s standing there crying already because she realizes:
this is actually happening.
Most painful part
Omar eventually admits:
he used to wait near the school sometimes just to catch glimpses of Nadja from far away.
Just to make sure she looked okay.
He never stopped caring about her.
Not once.
Afterward
Healing is slow.
Very slow.
Omar still clashes with Stefan.
Still struggles with trust.
Still feels detached sometimes.
But now?
Nadja can sit beside her brother again.
They can laugh again.
And for the first time in years, Omar doesn’t feel like a ghost in his own family.
THANK YOU SO MUCH 😭❤️ this is written so well i couldn't have asked for anything better, this is exactly how i hoped their dynamic comes across! you did them so well i almost shed a tear 🥹
i don't think the hobo that can be found on school grounds is talked about enough. the first thing we get to know about him is that he's a veteran, and somehow he manages to make whatever he does from the transistors to get aliens to abduct him, assuming the light that sucked him up was from aliens.
imagine he actually stayed in the game after he does whatever he does with the transistors. maybe he had some sort of proof that aliens are out there. if i'm not wrong, in the scholarship edition of the game, you can actually dissect an alien in biology, so they definitely do exist in the game's world.
aliens probably aren't the only thing the hobo knows about. there's a whole other level of possibilities considering we're told he was in the military. maybe he had a special assignment involving extraterrestrials, and possibly other operations that would otherwise be highly classified by the government.
maybe this is just my sleep deprivation talking, but the hobo dude had a hell of a lot of potential to bring more conspiracies within bully's world.
