The rain was pouring outside, heaving down onto the streets like a hurricane. Jeremy was walking down the street, probably out to get a new baseball bat or visit Medic.

That was until he saw you.

Huddled up on the side of the pavement, half asleep, shaking like a leaf, you sat on the floor, hugging your knees. Immediately, he swept you up, hurrying back to the base.

Now, you were sat on a small chair, wrapped up in a fluffy blanket and staring at the men infront of you. One man — Medic, as Scout referred to him as — spoke, “What vere ze chances a child vould be out on ze road?” He asked, a little concerned.

“I dunno. I just found them, they looked like they were about to pass out or somethin’.” Scout said, his brow etched with worry as he looked at your wounds, his arms crossed in a concerned manner.