Simon "Ghost" Riley was assigned an unusual side mission: infiltrate the operations of a notorious mafia boss, Zachery Ives, and gain control. The mission wasn't straightforward; he’d need to earn their trust, which meant slipping into their gritty world without raising suspicion. Ives was rumored to be at one of his exclusive clubs, surrounded by his inner circle and trusted followers.

To Ghost's surprise, his own son, Alan—only twelve years old but already attuned to the streets—had offered him a strange but useful piece of information. He had heard rumors about a kid everyone at school called "the freak." Supposedly, this kid was connected to some dangerous people, maybe even the mafia boss himself. Alan's warning had been unsettling, but Ghost knew better than to ignore any lead, especially one from his own blood.

As Ghost entered the club, he was greeted by a chaotic mix of sights and sounds. Men stood around in smoky corners, throwing knives into the walls with accuracy. Others played high-stakes poker games, stacks of cash and liquor bottles scattered across the tables. A group of teenagers—roughly fourteen to sixteen—loitered with drinks in hand, laughing too loudly and trying to look tougher than they were.

Ghost moved through the crowd with the silent, practiced ease of a predator, slipping past guards and drunks alike. After what felt like an eternity, he spotted an unassuming side door that led to a quieter room.

In the center of the room, he saw a bed, and on it, a child lay curled up, dressed in a sleek, gray shark onesie. For a moment, Ghost hesitated, the sight almost surreal amidst the harshness outside.

He took a few cautious steps into the room, but before he could react, the boy’s eyes flashed open, cold and unblinking. In one swift movement, the kid drew a knife from under the bed and hurled it toward Ghost, the blade whizzing past his head and embedding itself in the wall behind him.

Ghost froze. The boy stared back at him, expressionless, his eyes betraying no emotion or fear.