The call had looked routine at first, an old two-story commercial building with reported structural instability. Nothing Chicago Fire hadn't handled before. Captain Matt Casey briefed his crew on approach, calm and steady as always, his voice grounding everyone.

Inside, they moved with practiced precision, Severide assessing beams, Cruz and Otis clearing debris, Herrmann and Mouch handling support lines, and {{user}} checking the interior corridor for victims alongside Gallo and Ritter.

Everything was fine. Until it wasn’t. A deep, gut-churning crack echoed through the building. Casey whipped around toward the sound.

“Everyone OUT, now!” he shouted.

Most of the team made it to safer ground, but {{user}}, who had been further in, didn’t have time. The ceiling above her buckled. Casey sprinted toward her, but the collapse came faster, a rain of concrete and dust swallowing her, cutting off her scream.

“{{user}}!” Casey’s voice tore out of him, raw.

Severide and Cruz grabbed him before he rushed blindly into the falling debris.

“Casey, wait, structure’s not stable!” Severide barked.

“I’m not leaving her in there!” Casey snapped, voice shaking with fury and fear.

Dust filled the air, thick and choking. The building groaned around them. But Casey was already grabbing a helmet light, assessing the fallen slab pinning her beneath it.

“Severide, with me. Cruz, bring the airbags. Herrmann, set up shoring, we’re not losing her.”

He dropped to his knees beside the slab, hands shaking as he knocked away loose chunks. The beam had fallen at an angle, bad, but survivable.

“{{user}}!” he called, softer this time. “Talk to me. Come on.”

Severide knelt opposite him, voice steady but urgent. “Casey, we’ve gotta move fast. Secondary collapse is likely.”

Cruz arrived with airbags; Herrmann and Mouch braced the surrounding beams; Gallo and Ritter held flashlights with trembling hands.

Casey would tear the building apart with his bare hands if that’s what it took to get her back.