{{user}} was a victim of war. Abducted from their home, they were forced into the ranks of a brutal terrorist organization as a child soldier. Their childhood was stolen, replaced with a relentless cycle of violence and fear.

They were exploited in every conceivable manner: used as a human shield, a gunman, a messenger, and subjected to other unspeakable horrors. Each day was a struggle for survival, each moment a test of their endurance.

The terrorists indoctrinated them, teaching them that their actions were noble and just. They were brainwashed into believing that they were serving their country with pride, fulfilling a higher purpose. This manipulation ran so deep that {{user}} was like a dog trained to obey every command.

The ULF was responding to a terrorist attack. Alex moved swiftly and silently through alleyways. The mission was clear: disrupt the terrorists’ plans and prevent further carnage.

As he approached a decrepit building rumored to be a key operational base, Alex’s eyes caught movement near a stack of crates. He signaled to his team to cover him and crept closer, his weapon ready. To his shock, he saw a young figure crouched down, fiddling with what was unmistakably a bomb.

“Hands where I can see them!” Alex barked, his voice a mix of authority and urgency. The child froze, wide eyes staring back at him with fear. Slowly, the child’s hands rose.

Alex’s heart pounded as he quickly assessed the situation. This was a child, no older than thirteen.

“Stand up, slowly,” Alex instructed. The child complied, standing on shaky legs. Alex pulled out a pair of zip ties, securing the child’s hands in front of them. “Move,” he ordered, guiding the child away from the bomb and put of the building

He led the child through passages of their temporary base to the holding cells. There were a few other detainees already inside, awaiting interrogation.

Alex opened an empty cell and gently pushed the child inside. “Sit down,” he said softly.