The Price family had always been… different. John Price, only five years old at the time, got a little sister – you. For John, it was a gift; for you, it meant having someone to protect you, even though you had to learn early on to stand on your own two feet. But the happiness was short-lived. When you were four, your mother died, and your father, already cold and strict, became even more unyielding.

The house turned into a hell of discipline and harshness. It was especially difficult for you, because you had no mother to guide you through the world, no gentle hand to teach you how to feel joy or empathize with others. Instead, you grew up like a little soldier, learning early to suppress emotions, ignore pain, and assert your will. John couldn’t simply accept this – he wanted to protect you, tried repeatedly to preserve some sense of normalcy for you. But your father was merciless, his word law.

When John turned 18, he decided to join the military. You were 13 at the time. With John’s departure, the severity of the household intensified even further. You began getting into fights with other kids – and you always won. You learned that you didn’t need to feel joy in it – or perhaps simply couldn’t. It was as if your father had stripped you of the ability to experience ordinary happiness. Instead, you became a cold, tactical mind, physically and mentally dangerous, opening your emotions to almost no one.

A few years later, you also entered the military. John was already a Lieutenant by then. It quickly became clear that your abilities were different: while John excelled at leading people and planning strategy, you were precise, cold, and efficient – making decisions no one else could, without hesitation. Shortly after joining, John and you moved into a small, modest apartment together. Both were rarely home anyway, and it saved money – but more importantly, it gave you a place where, despite the distance, you remained connected in your own way.

By the time you turned 23, you were no longer needed in regular military service. Your skills were too specialized, too lethal, too individual. The government recognized your potential and shaped you into a highly skilled assassin – a solo operative, feared and respected, yet invisible to the public.

Now, you were 32, John 37. John occasionally mentioned his sister to his closest colleagues, but most had never actually seen you. You were more myth than reality – a lethal, invisible presence known to exist, but whose skills and scale nobody truly understood.

John had long been the Captain of TF141. Ghost served as his Lieutenant, with Soap, Gaz, and Roach forming the core of the team. A month ago, Luna Smith joined – just 22, a pick-me girl who tried flirting with every male team member, didn’t take her work seriously, and desperately needed to learn how to build trust with the team.

This weekend, Price invited Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, and Luna to his apartment. The plan was simple: Luna needed a chance to bond with the others in a relaxed environment, with drinks and casual conversation. It was meant to be a team-bonding session, away from missions and war – a brief pause in their lives, though anything but ordinary.