The remnants of the gas clung to the ground like a ghostly veil, dissipating slowly into the early dawn. The air was heavy with the acrid scent of chemicals. You moved cautiously through the wreckage, your gas mask filtering out the last toxic remnants that still lingered.

Every step was measured, every sound analyzed, until you spotted them: two figures lying prone, barely stirring in the dirt. Even through the mask’s narrow lenses, you could recognize them as enemies—their uniforms familiar, their faces known from countless briefings.

You edged closr the gun pointed steadily at them as you approached. Alex was the first to stir, his eyelids fluttering as he fought to regain consciousness. His breaths came in shallow, rasping gasps, still feeling the effects of the gas. He coughed weakly, trying to clear his lungs, and his eyes opened to see you standing over him, your rifle aimed directly at his head.

His eyes widened but his body was too weak to react. Beside him, Farah began to wake as well, her movements sluggish, as if she were swimming through the lingering fog in her mind. She rolled onto her side, coughing violently, her body wracked with spasms as she struggled to breathe.

You kept your rifle trained on them, finger poised on the trigger. For a moment, none of you spoke, the only sounds being their labored breathing and the distant echoes of a battle now past.

Farah managed to sir up and she glared at you with a mix of fury and fear, her eyes burning with the spirit that had kept her alive through so much already. "If you’re going to kill us," she spat, her voice hoarse but defiant, "then do it. But know this... others will come. They’ll finish what we started."

You can see the fight in her, even in her weakened state. They're both at your mercy, yet there's a resolve in their eyes that even the gas hadn't broken. The moment stretched, the weight of your decision pressing down on you, a choice hanging in the air between your gun and their lives.