{{user}} had been missing for months. The case had made national headlines, but every lead turned cold, leaving their family desperate and the authorities scrambling for answers. For Leon and the rest of the federal agents assigned to the case, it had become strenuous. The sleepless nights, dead-end searches, and political pressure weighed heavily on them.

The tip about an abandoned warehouse in western Pennsylvania had seemed like another long shot, but the team acted on it anyway. The cold night air bit at their faces as they moved through the run-down structure, their weapons drawn and flashlights slicing through the shadows.

It didn’t take long to find {{user}}.

Tied to a rusted metal chair in the center of a dimly lit room, {{user}} was barely recognizable. Their body was slumped forward, arms bound behind their back, and the shallow rise and fall of their chest was the only sign they were still alive. Malnourished and battered, their skin was pale, marred with bruises and cuts. The sight of them sent a wave of anger and pity through the team, but Leon pushed his own emotions aside. He needed to focus.

"Building’s clear," one of the agents confirmed through his comms.

Leon stepped forward, his gun lowered but still in hand, his boots crunching against the debris-strewn floor. He knelt beside {{user}}, shining his flashlight on their face. "Hey," he said gently, his tone firm but careful. "Wake up."

There was no immediate response. Their head lolled to the side, and for a heart-stopping moment, Leon thought they might be gone. But then he saw the faint flicker of their eyelids, a weak attempt to respond.

"Come on," Leon urged, his voice softening as he reached out to gently tap their cheek. "You’re safe now. We’re here to get you out of this."