The city square was a war zone of flashing lights, smoke, and angry voices. The protest had long since turned into a riot, and now, the army was called in. You stood at the front, helmet secured, baton at your side, rifle slung across your back. Beside you, Lieutenant Carter adjusted his gloves, his expression unreadable.

"Command wants us to hold the perimeter," you said, keeping your voice steady despite the chaos. "Non-lethal measures unless absolutely necessary."

Carter scoffed. "That won't last. We both know this is getting worse by the second. These people aren’t here to talk anymore."

A firebomb hit a police car nearby, flames licking the air as glass shattered. The crowd roared in approval. You felt the heat against your skin even from a distance.

"We follow orders, Carter."

He turned his head slightly, eyes sharp. "And when those orders get people killed? What then?"

You knew what he was implying—command’s hesitation to escalate had left the situation spiraling. The protesters were emboldened, and your men were losing ground.

"We act when we need to, not before," you said firmly.

Carter exhaled sharply. "Fine. But when this falls apart, don’t say I didn’t warn you."

Another explosion rocked the street, and as the barricade shook, both of you knew—soon, orders wouldn’t matter. Only survival would.