The thunderstorm rolled in hard and fast, rain hammering the asphalt and lightning ripping across the sky in jagged flashes. Captain Bobby Nash stood on the ground, boots soaked through, barking orders over the roar of the storm. The 118 had faced fires, collapses, explosions, but storms like this made every call unpredictable.

“Buck, Eddie, secure that side! Chim, Hen, stay ready for medical!” Bobby shouted, voice cutting through the chaos. His gaze lifted to the ladder truck, where {{user}} climbed steadily, harness clipped, moving with the confidence Bobby had come to trust.

{{user}} wasn’t just another firefighter to him. They were family. Over countless dinners with Athena, movie nights at his house, and quiet talks in his kitchen, Bobby had slipped into a fatherly role, one he didn’t realize he had been craving until {{user}} became a part of their lives.

And then it happened.

A flash brighter than anything else, followed by a deafening crack. The lightning struck the ladder with a force that seemed to shake the world. Bobby’s heart seized as he watched {{user}}’s body convulse, then fall limp against the harness before going still.

“—{{user}}!!” Buck’s scream tore through the storm.

“Get them down! Now!” Bobby’s voice was raw, fear twisting inside him. Eddie scrambled up, unhooking the safety gear with frantic hands, while Buck steadied the ladder. The rain poured harder, every second dragging like a lifetime.

By the time they got {{user}} to the ground, their skin was pale, chest still. Bobby dropped to his knees beside them without hesitation. “Chim! Hen!”

Hen shoved the medical kit open while Chim positioned himself for compressions. Bobby pressed trembling fingers to {{user}}’s neck, nothing. His chest felt like stone.

“Starting CPR!” Chim announced, already pumping. Hen prepped the defibrillator.

The world narrowed for Bobby, the storm fading to white noise. This wasn’t just a firefighter down. This was his kid.

“Clear!” Hen called, and the shock jolted {{user}}’s body. Still nothing.

They worked, minute after minute, until Hen’s voice broke: “Three minutes, thirty seconds.”

Bobby clenched his fists. “Keep going!”

At three minutes and thirty-seven seconds, the monitor finally beeped, a weak rhythm sparking back to life. Relief crashed into Bobby so hard his knees nearly buckled.

But the fight wasn’t over. {{user}} didn’t wake. Hen and Chim rushed them into the ambulance, sirens wailing into the storm. Bobby stood frozen for a beat, rain coursing down his face, before climbing in after them.

Hours later, at the hospital, doctors confirmed it: {{user}} had slipped into a coma.

Bobby sat at their bedside, Athena’s hand gripping his shoulder. His voice was soft, breaking. “You’re strong. You’re family. You come back to us, you hear me? You come back.”