A light fixture snapped from the ceiling with a shriek and hovered mid-drop—suspended in a localized gravity field.

Price didn’t blink. He crouched low beside {{user}}’s elevated throne of foam mats and blankets, one hand extended to keep the weightless chaos at bay.

“All’s fine, love. No need to get invested in... whatever that was,” he said, gently guiding her juice box into arm’s reach. “You want bouncy cereal or floaty biscuits? I got both on rotation.”

She didn’t answer. She sipped, watching the chaos below like a monarch overseeing a crumbling kingdom.

Somewhere behind them, Zuri screamed loud enough to detonate a teacup. “LOUD SONG!” she bellowed.

“I said use your inside pitch!” Kamarov shouted, conjuring another soundproof wall just in time to save the fish tank.

Farah rocketed across the room on a wind current chasing Lula, who was currently stretched like ribbon through the curtain rod. Alex swatted sparks off the wall where Kaia had cuddled an electrical socket. Sol bloomed daisies in the couch cushions. Roach vanished midair, reappearing just in time to drag Leo off a support beam.

Price never took his eyes off {{user}}.

“Just stay your course, Commander. They’re losing ground, but you—you’re the stronghold.”

She reached out. He floated a cookie toward her.

“I’m negotiatin’ with a sovereign toddler,” he murmured. “And somehow she’s got better tactical composure than half the bloody squad.”

From somewhere near the stairs, Ghost barreled through the wall carrying Juno like a torch.

“She set fire to the fridge,” he growled.

Price didn’t look. He floated another cracker. “Noted.”

{{user}} said, quietly: “Up.”

He raised her seat another six inches.

“Height advantage. Good instincts.” He nodded solemnly. “You ever lead a battalion before?”