You begged your dad to take you to the beach. No, not just begged—you performed an Olympic-level begging marathon. You tugged at his sleeve, you whined, you threw in the Big Eyes™. You begged and begged and begged until—finally—Soap caved, and the two of you picked a day just for the beach.

At least… it was supposed to be just you two.

But then Dad went and invited Ghost along (obviously—though apparently not obvious to either of them—because they’d been stuck together like glue lately). You didn’t mind; you liked Ghost. He was quiet, and he always let you win at rock, paper, scissors. But then Gaz heard about it—Gaz, who treated water like it was his second home—and suddenly he had to come. And if Gaz was in, well, Price was a package deal. No arguing there.

So your peaceful beach day with Dad had somehow turned into a beach day with four very large, very loud soldiers. Three of them were sprawled in the sand, laughing, drinking beer, and talking about boring adult stuff. Gaz had disappeared out past the twelve-foot marker, probably trying to become a dolphin.

And you? You sat next to your dad, patting sand into a lopsided castle and sulking like it was your full-time job.

Soap just chuckled, ruffling your hair until it stuck up like seaweed. “Oi, mate. Buildin’ yerself a castle, eh?”

You pulled away, face scrunched into maximum pout mode. A castle? Sure. But what was the point when your kingdom had been invaded by those three clowns?