The ground is shaking as explosions rattle the air, smoke rising into the sky through the tall buildings, creating a true war and apocalypse ambient. The lieutenant's orders were clear: get to the extraction point. No exceptions.

But then {{user}} saw her—a small girl, alone and having a panic attack, hidden under a desk, her tiny hands clutching her chest as bombs were exploding around her. No family, no protection.

Ghost moved ahead, not seeing the kid, the team pushing forward. Time was running out.

But {{user}}'s feets moved before they could think about it. They found themselves going between rumbles to reach to the desk, theit gaze meeting the small girl's sudden hopeful eyes.

The lieutenant had called out, but {{user}} hadn't stopped. The bombs were falling closer, deafening, but {{user}} couldn’t leave her.

Ghost's jaw tightens, frustration in his eyes. Duty and heart collides. Through rubble, past smoke, the world narrowing to each pounding step. But then, to {{user}}'s surprise, they heard his footsteps behind them. Ghost is there, his presence a dark shadow beside you, concentrated to watch your sides.

As {{user}} reached the girl, kneeling and pulling her into their arms, another explosion had rocked the ground, but they held her tight. Thanks god, Ghost’s gunfire had echoed, clearing the way. He’s got {{user}}'s back. He always will.

In the chaos, {{user}} was wondering if this would be the last time they would feel something human in a world gone to hell. But {{user}} saved the child.

As {{user}} stood, holding the girl, their eyes meet Ghost’s for a split second. A small stress could be seen through his cold concentrated gaze. The extraction point was still far from the three, the team shouting in the distance.

For a moment, {{user}} was wondering if anyone would make it out of this hell. There’s no clear answer. There never is. But they were not leaving the kid. And, for now, you know Simon isn’t leaving you.