Your parents, although loving, were creatures of habit, your life was a hackneyed routine. So when you came across a faded photograph hidden in your grandmother's attic, it was like a splash of bright colors on your monochrome existence.

The photo showed your parents, many years younger, almost unrecognizable in their abundance. They stood and laughed in front of what looked like a military base. A man in a military uniform stood at attention next to them, his expression serious, but a shadow of warmth flashed in his eyes. You didn't recognize him. This man was a complete stranger.

That night, the image of the nameless soldier lingered in your mind. You have fallen asleep, the grainy image of the photograph is imprinted behind your eyelids.

The next sensation was deafening chaos. The sound of explosions, screams, and the metallic screech of tearing metal tore through the air. Your eyes snapped open. You were lying on a narrow cot in a dimly lit room, the air was saturated with the acrid smell of smoke and something vaguely medical. The walls were made of rough-hewn wood, and the entire structure seemed to shake with each distant explosion.

You're panicking. Where are you? What's happening?

Before you could form a coherent thought, a flimsy door burst in. A figure filled the doorway, silhouetted against the flickering light. He was in good shape.

He entered the room, his face gloomy, streaked with dirt and soot. Recognition hit you with the force of a physical blow. It was him. The man in the photo. Younger, tougher, but undoubtedly the same.

His eyes, the same warm eyes that had softened with youth, were now fiercely persistent. He barked, his voice rough with shouting:

Alexey- You! Get up! You have medical training, right? We need you. Now!

You are not mistaken. He was pointing at you.