It had been a year since the world had last seen {{user}}. A bright soul, full of promise and potential, had been snuffed out from the public eye, leaving behind a trail of unanswered questions and a void in the lives of those who knew them. The authorities, desperate to find any lead, had issued a Yellow Notice through INTERPOL—a global alert meant to help locate a missing person. This notice described every detail that could aid in the search: physical appearance, distinguishing marks, and the circumstances of the disappearance. Yet, as the months dragged on, hope began to wane.

In a remote, war-torn region, John Price was on a mission. The night was cold, the air thick with tension. His team moved with precision, clearing each building, looking for insurgents. As they approached the last building, Price’s instincts flared. Something felt off.

“On me,” he signaled to his team. They breached the door, weapons at the ready, but what they found inside was not what they expected.

The room was dimly lit by a single, flickering bulb. The air was stale, filled with the scent of decay. In the corner, huddled against the wall, was a figure. Price moved closer, his heart pounding in his chest. As the light fell upon the person, his breath caught in his throat.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered. It was {{user}}. The same {{user}} whose face had been plastered across the Yellow Notice he had seen months ago. Their body was bruised, bloodied, and frail from what must have been countless months of torment and neglect.

“Medic! I need a medic here, now!” Price bellowed, his voice echoing through the building. He knelt beside {{user}}, carefully checking for a pulse. It was weak, but it was there. He whispered softly, “You’re safe now. We’ve got you.”