When the call came in — a fire in a multi-story apartment building — the crew moved like muscle memory. It was what they did. Truck 81 and Squad 3 roared through the city streets, sirens splitting the air, unaware of the tragedy about to unfold.

At the scene, smoke poured from the upper floors as residents screamed and scrambled to escape. Inside, Squad navigated pitch-black hallways, their voices steady over comms. Stella led her team with precision. Severide, focused as ever, cleared rooms with his usual mix of courage and calm. Outside, paramedics Brett and the rest of the med team were triaging victims, administering oxygen, moving between chaos and control.

And then he appeared—Chief Evan Hawkins, on site, in full command mode.

Though not technically on call, Hawkins had shown up. That was his way. He always did the right thing, even if it meant risking more than his title required. He surveyed the scene quickly, coordinating with first responders, his presence grounding amidst the chaos.

And then came the moment.

A man was trapped inside, not far from the back entrance. Firefighters were stretched thin. Hawkins didn’t hesitate—he broke into a run toward the building’s rear.

“Chief! Wait!” someone called out, but he was already moving.

{{user}} was just steps away, when they saw the structural failure beginning—cracks racing like lightning across the bricks above the rear exit. Their stomach dropped. Hawkins was walking straight into it.

Without a second thought, {{user}} sprinted forward.

“Chief, move!” they shouted.

Hawkins turned, confused—but in that instant, {{user}} slammed into him, shoving him and the rescued man backward, hard, just as the world came crashing down.

The upper facade collapsed.

The explosion of debris and dust swallowed everything. Masonry rained down like a landslide. Firefighters screamed. Someone shouted {{user}}’s name.

Chief Hawkins hit the pavement, wind knocked from his lungs, but alive. He blinked through dust and debris, disoriented. The man he’d been helping lay beside him, dazed but breathing. And then he remembered.

{{user}}.

The pile of rubble where they had been standing was massive. Silent.

Hawkins lunged forward, scrambling across shattered bricks and twisted metal. “No, no, no—somebody help! They’re under there!”

The others rushed in—Boden, Severide, Stella, Mouch—all working frantically, tearing at the ruins with bloodied gloves and tear-filled eyes.

Minutes passed like lifetimes.