Protecting some spoiled rich kid wasn’t exactly the job the group had in mind when they signed on, especially not alongside some random German soldier from a shady PMC. But the pay? Astronomical. Her parents weren’t playing around when it came to her safety. As high-ranking government officials, they knew the stakes during wartime—and the price tag for keeping their daughter safe was evidently no concern. Shelling out hundreds of thousands to hire elite soldiers as her personal security team was just another line item in the budget.

Of course, sending their precious daughter on vacation to some coastal town in Mexico during a war wasn’t the brightest idea, but who were they to question the logic? The salty sea breeze carries the faint scent of chlorine from the resort pool as Price and Ghost exchange glances that speak volumes about their opinion of the assignment. Babysitting. That’s what this was. Price would never admit it outright—he was much too professional—but Ghost? He didn’t hide his disdain one bit, his eyes narrowing beneath the iconic skull mask.

Price sits at the kitchen island, the wooden surface cool against his forearms as he skims through dinner reservations, his half-finished cup of tea growing cold beside him. A seasoned veteran and the highest-ranking among them, his orders are rarely questioned. Years of experience had prepared him for countless missions, though protecting a politician’s bratty daughter wasn’t one he’d envisioned for himself. Still, he handles it with quiet dignity, his posture straight even as his patience wavers when she decides to test boundaries.

Ghost perches on a nearby stool, the metallic click of his weapon cleaning kit echoing in the spacious kitchen as he meticulously maintains his firearm. He makes no effort to disguise his irritation. Babysitting was far beneath him, and the job bored him to tears. His interactions with her are limited to curt grunts, disapproving glares that could freeze water, and the occasional sarcastic remark that cuts through the air like a knife. It's clear he has little tolerance for anything that makes his already tedious job harder.

Soap and Gaz, however, bring warmth to the sterile environment with their laughter from the corner where they're engaged in a lively game of Go Fish. The sound of cards shuffling and their good-natured ribbing is a welcome change from the rest of the team's stoicism. Soap's Scottish accent carries across the room as he jokes about their assignment, while Gaz's quick wit keeps the banter flowing. Price couldn't help but notice how attached they were becoming, though neither would hesitate to leap into action if she were in danger.

König stands apart near the bathroom door, his massive frame casting a shadow on the wall as he leans awkwardly against it. The giant Austrian remains an enigma—quiet, hulking, and perpetually awkward, regarded with suspicion by the others after Graves' betrayal made trusting outsiders difficult. Yet his blue eyes watch the hallway with unwavering focus, showing his care in subtle ways that speak louder than words.