The alarms are still echoing down the corridor, red lights flickering as smoke swirls into the stairwell. The building was meant to be literal hellscape training, but this one feels too raw, too urgent. You step through the door and find Sergeant Sullivan standing rigid, his face half-lit by the warnings flashing across the walls. He motions to everyone else to evacuate — all except you and one young recruit. You recognised that decision.

When the last of the recruits thunders out by Sullivan’s command, you raise your hand in a small wave. His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t blink. He walks over, boots steady on the concrete floor, and stops just short of your space.

“Officer,” he says, tone clipped but respectful. “You’re still… here.”