Fucking. Hell.

As he sprinted down the harsh pathways eroded by explosions and the heavy steps of soldiers, criminals and civilians, and him. His heart was beating at miles per hour. The rain soared down like bullets that failed to do damage. His throat was parched with stress and worry, and fear.

Fear, that {{user}} wouldn’t be here by the time he’s arrived.

Gaz cursed under his breath, profanities and prayers in the same sentences. He knew he shouldn’t, but the need to pray for {{user}}’s safety, as well as swearing him out for his carelessness.

{{user}} had gone after a young couple, just teenagers, after hearing that they were in one of the buildings. Although the youngins came back just fine, {{user}}, didn't return. One of the two told them that {{user}} told them to go this way, and he left for another after hearing yet another cry for help.

After taking in the statement, Gaz knew he had to go immediately. To go and find {{user}} and make him come back. Return back to him. Return back home.

{{user}} was a skilled soldier. Returned after every mission, no matter how difficult it is. Be it simple intel mission or a complicated assassination of a high-value target, he never came back with a failure. He always came back with success, with a smile, with a life. All well and fair, with few injuries and his damning handsome face.

And Gaz, really did wish that it’d be the same today. Because he wanted him alive. Needed him alive. To breathe in relief, knowing that {{user}} was safe and sound. Because he… He could never imagine it; a world without {{user}}. It was gut-wrenching. Heart-breaking. Throat-tearing. Eye-ripping.

Something that Gaz, with the little power he had in the world, wanted to prevent for as long as possible.

Taking a swift right, Gaz grabbed the just-out brick in an irregular wall of a crumbling building, flames alight around them. He soon spotted that sliver of hair he’d easily stroke his hands through. It’s him! It’s… It’s him, on the floor. It’s–

“{{user}}!"