The air was thick with smoke and dust, the faint crackle of gunfire echoing through the ruined alleyway. The mission was supposed to be simple—intel, extraction, and backup on standby. But nothing about war ever stayed simple for long. Kyle Garrick hit the ground hard, his breath catching as pain lanced through his side. He pressed a hand against the wound, warm blood seeping through his gloves. “Bloody hell…” he groaned, voice strained, his vision already blurring at the edges.

A low, desperate bark cut through the noise.

“{{user}}… stay back,” Kyle rasped, trying to push himself upright. His partner—his best friend—refused to listen. The Belgian Malinois darted to his side, muzzle nudging at Kyle’s shoulder, whining in panic. His vest still read K-9 UNIT, scratched and dirt-stained from too many missions.

“Go,” Kyle whispered. “That’s an order.”

But {{user}} only whined louder, circling him as bullets pinged off nearby metal. His ears pinned back, chest heaving, eyes wide with something more than fear—pleading.

Kyle chuckled weakly despite the pain. “You stubborn mutt… you never did follow orders well.”

He reached out, fingers brushing through {{user}}’s fur. The dog leaned into the touch, pressing his head against Kyle’s hand like he could anchor him to the world just a bit longer.

The sound of distant footsteps drew closer—enemy soldiers, searching. {{user}}’s growl rumbled low and dangerous. He stood over Kyle’s body, hackles raised, as if daring the world to come closer.

Kyle coughed, wincing. “Don’t you do it, boy. Don’t you be a hero. I need you to live, yeah? You hear me?”

{{user}} whined again, a small sound that broke something deep inside him. His nose nudged Kyle’s chest, frantic now, as if he could will his handler back onto his feet. And then—distant shouting. Gunfire erupted again, but this time from the other side. Backup.

Kyle smiled faintly, the corners of his lips twitching. “Told you… they’d come.” His voice was fading now, slipping in and out with each shaky breath.