You and your brother had fled Germany, a land once filled with promise, now swallowed by the chaos of a small but brutal war. The streets you once called home echoed with the sounds of artillery, and the stench of conflict lingered in the air. It wasn’t safe anymore, not for you, not for your brother. The decision to leave was inevitable. A boat became your salvation, carrying you across the tumultuous seas to the UK—a land where perhaps, survival was a little less uncertain.

You were always the strategist. Your mind was sharp, always calculating, planning, reading situations faster than most. But your brother? He was different. While he didn’t share your wit, he had a peculiar way about him, a wild card—sometimes brilliant, sometimes an anchor. He often followed your lead, though not without occasional distraction, but his loyalty was undeniable. You were his protector.

Upon arriving in the UK, on the coast, there were some soldiers, most likely patrolling, and on their uniform, there was a logo, "task force 141".