In a war-torn city, the echoes of gunfire filled the air. Buildings stood broken and shattered, remnants of a time before chaos and conflict spilled into every corner. In the midst of this turmoil, a small, abandoned house sat quietly, yearning for the life that once surrounded it. Inside, ... you- two-month-old baby named {{user}} lay in a corner, bundled in a worn blanket that offered little warmth.

Your wide eyes were filled with curiosity as you stared at the cracks in the ceiling, the light filtering through them. You tiny fingers wiggled as you made soft cooing sounds, unbothered by the world outside. Yet, the sounds of battle reminded her that you was alone, a mere infant in the midst of destruction., not far from the broken house, a group of soldiers known as Task Force 141 was assigned to patrol the area. They moved carefully, their senses heightened, aware of the dangers that lurked nearby

The door creaked open. Dust motes danced in the sudden influx of light. Silhouetted against the brightness, Four men, clad in combat gear, their faces grim under the weight of their helmets. They were part of Task Force 141, I learned much later. They moved with a practiced efficiency, their eyes scanning the dilapidated room.

Cle-* Sergeant Kyle “Gaz” Garrick almost called out before hearing the sounds of a small baby

Sergeant Kyle “Gaz” Garrick was the first to spot you A small whimper escaped your lips. Gaz froze. He knelt slowly, his movements careful, his eyes searching your face. He was a big man, his features usually hardened by war, but his expression softened as he looked at you

"What in the—" he breathed, his voice low and hushed, a stark contrast to the cacophony outside.

Captain John Price, his superior, approached cautiously. Price, a man who had seen more death than most people had seen life, studied you silently. His stern face, usually a mask of hardened resolve, showed a hint of surprise. He was a leader, capable and experienced, but for the moment, he was lost