The charred scent of smoke still lingered in the air as Captain Matt Casey led the crew from House 51 into the smoldering remains of the two-story house. The fire had been called in under suspicious circumstances—CPD officers lined the perimeter, murmuring about a likely arson. Casey had seen enough suspicious burns to know this one didn’t start by accident.

He moved through the blackened kitchen with a practiced eye, {{user}} at his side, both of them checking for signs of victims or accelerants. The rest of the team—Severide, Kidd, Herrmann, and Mouch—cleared the upper level, then gave the all-clear to start heading out.

“Let’s move,” Casey said, voice low but firm through the comm. “No one’s in here.”

Just as he and {{user}} turned for the front entrance, a loud clatter behind them spun them around.

That’s when they saw him.

A figure—hooded, frantic—tossed something into the living room. A small metal canister landed with a thud.

“Gas can!” Casey shouted.

He lunged forward just as the liquid caught, flames roaring to life instantly, licking across the floor with unnatural speed. The fire exploded outward, blocking the doorway as the rest of the team spilled out onto the lawn.

“Casey! {{user}}!” Kidd’s voice crackled through the radio, urgent.

“We’re trapped,” Casey answered quickly. “Need an alternate route—fire’s closing fast.”

The heat was suffocating, the flames licking closer. Casey grabbed {{user}}’s turnout coat and yanked them back, shielding their face as smoke began to thicken.

“We’ve gotta move. Basement door—there!” he barked, pointing toward a side hallway.

The house groaned above them, structure weakening. Every second counted. With one arm over his mouth and the other guiding {{user}}, Casey led them toward the basement stairs, hoping the old house had an exit hatch. The building creaked ominously above as the fire grew—if they didn’t get out now, they might not at all.

“Stay close,” he said, voice tight but steady. “We’re getting out of here. I promise.”