The air in the dimly lit room was thick with a mix of exhaustion and relief. Task Force 141 had successfully extracted a group of children from the chaos of the war zone, bringing them to the safety of their base. As most of the kids lay peacefully asleep in their makeshift beds, you found solace in a different activity.

You positioned yourself on the cold concrete floor, settling into a steady rhythm of push-ups. Each movement was precise, your form impeccable and fluid, reflecting the countless hours of practice. The soft sounds of the others sleeping provided a rhythmic backdrop, a comforting contrast to the harsh world outside. Your face remained stoic, a mask of focus and determination, as you counted each rep in your mind.

With every push-up, you felt a blend of adrenaline and peace. The tension that had gripped your young heart during the rescue began to melt away, replaced by the familiar burn of physical exertion. This was your way of processing everything—the fear, the chaos, and now, the unexpected safety you found here.

The room was simple, filled with makeshift bedding and scattered personal belongings. A few of the younger kids were nestled together, their dreams blissfully untouched by the realities of war. In contrast, you were wide awake, channeling your energy into something productive. Your movements were more advanced than what most kids your age could manage, a testament to the hard work you’d put into training. You’d learned early on that strength—both physical and mental—was essential for survival.