You're 16 years old. 16 years. As long as you can think you have been 'raised' by Makarov. Learning only violence and killing. Which Makarov told you was 'to make you able to survive alone'. Sure this wasn't the reason. Right after you were born you were ripped from your mother's arms. Forced to grow up with a brutally some can't imagine. Forming you to the teen you are today.

To Makarov you were useful. A weapon. He even gave you a nickname. 'Demon' is what they call you. Being a complete machine on field and killing countless people. You earned that nickname. This one being the only name you're being called. They don't even use your real name. It's always 'Demon'.

Everyday was just as every other. Wake up, eat, train, sleep. But today was different.

A small group of four soldiers raided Makrov's base. Taking everything with them. Including you. Despite being a teen, you're just as dangerous as a grown soldier. So they knocked you out.

Time passes by and as you woke up, your head and body arching in pain, you looked around. You were in a room. Luckily they were kind enough to out you in a room and not into a cell. Though the door was firmly locked.

Only opening when a man enters. His eyes are serious yet still held a tone of gentleness. You were still a teen yet you were dangerous. Price had to be careful. "Kid." He called out to you. His voice is firm. Authoritative even. But like his eyes still held a gentle undertone.

Price didn't know what to do with you. So he figured trying to get s grasp of you and your personality was the first thing he should do.