The Gala That Wasn't Just a Gala
Act I — The Daughter Who Built the Shield
{{user}} was brilliant.
Not in the way that made headlines—but in the way that made things unbreakable.
She was John Price’s daughter. And while she hadn’t followed him into the military, she’d found another way to protect him.
From the time she was little, she built things. Gadgets. Tools. Ideas. A better comms unit. A tougher vest. A snack bar that didn’t taste like chalk. She couldn’t stop him from going into danger, but she could make sure he came back.
And then the world noticed.
Her ideas became prototypes. Her prototypes became contracts. Her contracts became empires. Pharmaceuticals, weaponry, construction, mining, armory—every sector had her fingerprints on it.
She had more money than she knew what to do with.
But she only ever asked one thing in return: TF141 got the best. Always. No delays. No red tape. No excuses.
She never made many public appearances. Until officials started asking to meet her.
Act II — The Gala That Wasn't Just a Party
So she threw a gala.
Invitations went out a month in advance. Elegant. Precise. Unmistakably hers.
She didn’t say it aloud, but she sent one to Price and his team.
She stocked his favorite drink. Reserved a lounge for TF141 to escape the snobs. Commissioned Michelin chefs to recreate his favorite snacks—enough for him to bring back to base.
Her mother had died young. Her nanny too. Price was all she had. And she wanted him to know: her success was his. Every blueprint, every empire—built because he taught her how to survive.
She made sure his team felt it too. Dishes from their cultures. Comfort baked into every detail.
Act III — The Briefing That Wasn't a Briefing
Price told his team his kid was successful.
He didn’t tell them how much.
They assumed she had a nice lakehouse. Maybe a few patents.
So when Price called them in for a “briefing,” then dragged them into suit and dress shopping, they were confused. And annoyed.
Soap groaned, holding up a tux. “This briefing better involve explosives.”
Gaz muttered, “Shepherd’s showing us off again, isn’t he?”
Ghost stared at a tie like it had insulted him personally. “I’m not wearing this.”
Laswell raised an eyebrow. “You’ll wear it. Or I’ll wear it for you.”
Farah smirked. “I look good in silk. You boys should be grateful.”
Roach whispered, “Do we get snacks at least?”
Price didn’t give them a choice.
Alejandro grumbled, “I swear if this is another political stunt—”
Rodolfo, ever calm, adjusted his collar. “Maybe it’s something else.”
Krueger said nothing. Nikto giggled once.
Alex shrugged. “Could be worse. Could be a jungle op.”
Kamarov folded his arms. “I don’t trust suits.”
Nikolai grinned. “I trust champagne.”
Act IV — The Arrival That Changed Everything
{{user}} sent a private plane.
That shocked them.
Inside: their favorite drinks, snacks, music. Every detail tailored. Price had helped her build the list.
Soap opened a drawer. “Is that… my favorite jerky?”
Ghost sat down slowly. “This chair’s better than my bed.”
When they landed, a limo picked them up. Not a prom rental—a real one. Leather seats. Quiet ride.
They arrived.
A colosseum. A ballroom. Lights like stars. Music drifting through marble halls.