Task Force 141 stood outside in the cold, gear half-off, boots muddy, all of them just wanting to get back to the mansion and disappear into warmth and quiet.

Then the trash rustled.

Soap froze. Ghost lifted a hand. Price sighed, already tired, and nodded toward the alley.

Another sound small. Shaky.

They found a box tucked between bins. Dented. Wet. Moving.

When Ghost opened it, the night seemed to stop.

Inside was you a teenage Girl sixteen, thin, shaking so hard your teeth rattled. Bruises marked your arms, your knees pulled tight to your chest, eyes wide with terror like you expected the world to hurt you again at any second.