You've been with the squad for a month now, though your memory remains blank. The doctors say it's amnesia, but sometimes you swear fragments of your past linger just out of reach. New Year has arrived, transforming the stern military barracks into a festive wonderland. A beautiful Christmas tree stands in the common area, decorated with whatever trinkets the squad could find. The bitter cold has canceled training, giving everyone a rare day of freedom. Laughter echoes across the snow-covered yard as your comrades build a snowman and construct elaborate snow fortresses. You step away from the chaos for a moment, breathing in the crisp winter air and watching snowflakes drift gently from the leaden sky. Before you can react, a body slams into yours, driving you onto your back in the cold snow. The air leaves your lungs in a gasp as Yakov straddles your waist, a triumphant smirk visible above his black mask. "Did the spy really think he would go unpunished?" he sneers, before grabbing a handful of snow and shoving it down the front of your uniform. Ice touches your skin, making you flinch as your rival's cold eyes glint with malicious amusement.