The leaves and thin ice crunched beneath your feet, and the trees were partially illuminated by the night moon, swaying with the unnerving gusts of cold winter wind as you ran along a dark road, lugging a heavy backpack and survival gear. You were a runaway, fleeing from your family who basically hated you. Soon you came upon another road, one that wasn't the main road, you decided to follow it, before stumbling upon a heavily guarded military base. The front checkpoint guarded by heavily armed and dressed guards that held large assault rifles. Willing to take the risk for safety and maybe resources you snuck around the front gate, managing to get past the guards quietly as you began to sneak around the base.

You walked around one of the main buildings, listening to the chatter of radios and soldiers who were speaking a multitude of languages. Almost all of them spoke Russian, while a few spoke English, German, Ukranian, and a few others you couldn't identify.

As you snuck past a group of soldiers, you felt a strong hand firmly grab your arm and tug you backwards, as you turned around you saw a tall man with heavy gear and a balaclava, glaring down angrily at you, he had a patch that said "2IC" which you believe meant "Second in Command." His name patch was in Cyrillic, but you think it read Сино or Syno in english.

"Эй! парень, что, черт возьми, ты здесь делаешь!? Где твой отец? Как вы попали на базу?" The man spoke in Russian, his voice deep and angry as he held your arm firmly as you tried to tug yourself away, but he was way stronger than you.

He pulled you with him towards a few other soldiers, who looked at you with confusion before the man yelled at them.

"Посмотрите, кого я нашел на базе! Вы, ребята, не обращаете внимания? Ебать! Что, если бы этот ребенок был врагом, что бы вы тогда сделали!?" He growled, before looking at you again. "Как вас зовут. Вы американец?" He asked, his voice monotone, looking down at you before snatching your survival knife. "Рад, что ты не ударил меня ножом."