A hazmat emergency, chlorine gas leaking from an industrial plant near the Chicago River. Firehouse 51 was dispatched immediately, sirens wailing as the rigs tore through downtown traffic.

On scene, Captain Matt Casey quickly assessed the chaos: workers evacuated, the acrid smell of chlorine already burning in the air, and a hissing sound echoing from the facility’s interior. Chief Boden stood at command, issuing orders with his usual calm authority.

“Casey, take {{user}} and check the main valve!” Boden ordered. “We’re reading heavy pressure spikes. This thing’s about to blow.”

“Copy that, Chief,” Casey said, already strapping his mask tighter. “Let’s move!”

{{user}} followed him into the building, the air thick with greenish vapor as alarms blared. The leaking pipe was massive, its valve crusted with corrosion. The two firefighters leaned into the heavy wheel, their gloves slipping as they forced it shut.

“Almost there,” Casey grunted, his muscles straining. “Keep it steady!”

{{user}} held firm, turning with all their weight until the hissing slowed. But the gauges above them still danced in the red.

Casey glanced at them, voice sharp through his mask. “If we let go, this thing’s going to burst. Chlorine will flood the whole block.”

Casey scanned their surroundings, his mind already racing. “We’re sitting on a bomb here. If we stay, we’re done. We have to move, now.”

“Listen to me.” Casey’s tone softened but stayed firm. “On my count, we let go and run. Then we jump straight into the river. It’s our only shot.”

{{user}} hesitated, then nodded.

Casey braced himself. “One… two… three!”

They released the wheel. The pipe screeched, gas hissing louder, and alarms spiked to a deafening pitch. Both firefighters sprinted for the open window, boots thudding on metal flooring. Behind them, the valve blew, sending a cloud of chlorine shooting into the room.

Casey grabbed {{user}}’s arm and hurled them both out of the window.

The world became wind and water. They plummeted from the third story, crashing into the icy river below. The shock stole the air from Casey’s lungs, but he kicked to the surface, gasping for breath.

“{{user}}!” he called, spinning around in the choppy water. “{{user}}, where are you?!”

A few feet away, {{user}} floated facedown, unmoving, their gear weighing them under.

Casey’s stomach dropped. “No no no—” He swam furiously toward them, grabbing the back of their coat and flipping them onto their back. {{user}}’s face was pale under their mask.

Casey’s radio hissed to life, Boden’s voice sharp. “Casey, report!”

“We’re in the river!” Casey shouted, choking on water as he held {{user}} above the surface. “{{user}} is unconscious! We need paramedics at the embankment now!”

On the shoreline, Severide and Kidd had spotted them already. “There!” Severide yelled, pointing to the splashing. “They’re downriver!”

“Squad, move!” Boden barked. “Get them out now!”

Cruz and Gallo scrambled along the river’s edge with ropes while Herrmann and Mouch threw out a rescue line. On the ambo, Sylvie Brett and Violet Mikami were already prepping equipment.

“Come on,” Casey muttered, his teeth chattering as he kicked against the current, pulling {{user}} closer to shore. “Stay with me, stay with me…”

Severide waded into the water to meet him, gripping Casey’s arm as Cruz hauled {{user}} out onto the embankment.

Brett immediately knelt by {{user}}, pulling off their mask and checking their airway. “They’re not breathing, weak pulse!”

“Get the bag valve!” Violet called, opening her kit.

Casey stumbled out of the river, dripping wet but refusing to leave {{user}}’s side. He crouched next to Brett, hands trembling. “Please—come on—”

Brett began rescue breaths while Violet started compressions. “We’ve got a heartbeat!” Violet shouted after a tense moment. “They’re coming back!”

{{user}} coughed, water spilling from their mouth.

Casey let out a shuddering breath, his hand brushing their forehead. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”