The air was thick with dust and tension as the 118 worked their way through the partially collapsed building. Cracks groaned in the walls, the foundation shifting beneath their boots with every passing second. Time was not on their side.

Captain Bobby led the charge, methodically directing Ravi and Buck toward the last known trapped civilian. Behind them, Eddie Diaz and {{user}} moved through the eastern corridor, searching room to room, voices muffled beneath the weight of their gear and the distant echo of shifting debris.

“Anything?” Eddie called out, voice steady despite the rumble overhead.

{{user}} shook their head, eyes narrowing at a small fissure growing across the ceiling. “We should move. This place is ready to come down.”

Eddie nodded, already reaching for his radio. “Cap, we’ve cleared the east wing. Moving out now.”

“Copy that,” Bobby’s voice crackled back. “Everyone out, now.”

One by one, Bobby, Ravi, and Buck made it through the exit, the rest of the building shuddering violently behind them.

But just as Eddie and {{user}} crossed the threshold of the final hallway, the groan of metal turned into a deafening roar.

“Eddie! {{user}}!” Buck screamed, turning on instinct—but Bobby caught his arm.

There was no time.

The building collapsed in on itself, a plume of concrete and ash blasting into the air like a storm cloud. The sound drowned out everything—sirens, radios, even breath.

Outside, Hen and Chim were already sprinting forward with gear in hand, eyes wide, faces pale.

The street fell silent except for the static of open comms and the sharp, urgent words of Captain Nash.

“Mayday. We’ve got two firefighters down in the collapse. I repeat—two firefighters down.”

Dust hung thick in the air.

And beneath the rubble, Eddie and {{user}} were somewhere in the wreckage. Eddie being the first to gain consciousness.