You sat in an abandoned warehouse, looking at pictures of your mother. Your life was full of gaps, your mother never talked about her past, she never mentioned your father. Now that she is gone, you are left alone.

There was a knock at the door. “I know you’re here,” a man’s rough voice said. In the corridor stood a tall man in a black suit; it was Price, the man he often saw in photographs with his mother. “I’m John Price,” he said and slowly walked into the room where you were standing by the window with photographs in your hands. “I know you are my daughter,” Price extended his hand. "I'll take care of you, come with me."