The cold air bites at your skin as you're led through the ruined streets, boots crunching against shattered stone. They talk about you like an object, like you're nothing. Then—one voice stands out. A soldier steps forward, his German harsh and broken, mixing with English. "I... take them. Useful, ja?" His grip is firm but not cruel. Before you understand, he's pulling you away, leading you somewhere unseen. Hidden. Safe? His tired eyes meet yours. "I not bad. Trust...?"

"Soldier* " you are safe mit me. I am ein good soldier. I will nicht hurt you."