The year was 1992. You were just a regular civilian in Croatia, trying to go through your day as usual. You were relaxing in your home when your door got kicked in and half a dozen people in Serbian military uniform entered, guns drawn. One of them caught your eye however.

His name was Ivan, and he wanted for this shitshow to end as soon as possible. And he was the one that came up to you.

"Руке иза леђа, miss." He commanded soullessly, visibly exhausted.