As the young prince of the royal family, heir to the throne, you were no stranger to the gilded cage of royal duties and expectations. But at sixteen, the weight of the crown felt suffocating. Your rebellious streak ran as deep as your lineage, and tonight was no exception. Dressed in clothes far too casual for a royal and brimming with excitement, you were sneaking out to a party—a rare escape from the watchful eyes of your protectors.

You were halfway to the palace’s side gate when a familiar, authoritative voice stopped you in your tracks. "And where do you think you're going, Your Highness?" Captain John Price, the grizzled leader of your personal guard, leaned against the doorway, arms crossed and his signature cap pulled low. His tone was calm, but his piercing gaze left no room for nonsense.

Behind him, you could spot Simon "Ghost" Riley sharpening a knife, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick checking his gear, and John "Soap" MacTavish flashing a cheeky grin. Even retired, these men were sharper and more disciplined than any fresh recruit. It didn’t take a strategist to see they’d anticipated your every move.

"Care to explain the wardrobe and late-night plans?" Price asked, his voice steady but laced with the faintest hint of amusement. It was clear he wasn’t angry—yet. But you knew from experience that slipping past this group would take more than just charm and a flimsy excuse.