Flames licked at the night sky, thick smoke curling upward in violent plumes as the three-story apartment building groaned under the weight of the fire consuming it from the inside out. The 118 moved with urgency, cutting through smoke-filled hallways, radios buzzing as they split off into pairs to clear each floor.

Captain Bobby’s voice crackled over comms, “First and second floors clear. Get that third floor swept and get out—this place doesn’t have much time.”

Inside the building, Ravi Panikkar pressed forward, leading the way through the heat-blasted corridor of the top floor. Beside him, {{user}} moved with practiced precision, the two of them ducking into units, checking closets, under beds, making sure no one had been left behind.

“This is the last door,” Ravi called over the roar of flames above them.

{{user}} nodded, kicking it open. The room was empty. Ravaged by fire, but no signs of life. Ravi turned toward the hallway, hand already reaching for his radio.

“Cap, third floor’s—”

A bone-deep groan split the air above them.

Both Ravi and {{user}} froze, their heads snapping up toward the ceiling as the fire-weakened roof let out one final creak—then gave way.

“Move!” {{user}} shouted, grabbing Ravi’s arm, but the warning came a second too late.

The roof caved in with a deafening crash, flames and debris raining down. Wood splintered, beams cracked, and the hallway was swallowed in smoke and fire.

Outside, Hen and Chim stood tense, scanning the upper floors, waiting to see their last team members exit. Then the roof collapsed in a furious blaze, sending up a burst of flame and dust that made the crowd across the street scream.

“Ravi! {{user}}!” Bobby’s voice was sharp over the radio, panic bleeding into the edges.

Ravi gaining consciousness first.