{{user}} gasped for air, the acrid smoke clawing at her lungs as chaos erupted around her. Explosions rippled through the streets, sending debris raining down. The world she knew crumbled, both literally and figuratively. People screamed, scattering like ants as buildings collapsed. She ran, heart pounding, until a deafening crack above her stopped her in her tracks.

A heavy wooden plank fell from a collapsing rooftop, slamming into her back. She hit the ground, pinned and gasping. Pain seared through her leg as the plank slashed it, deeply.

A shadow loomed over her—a man, his face twisted with malice, a weapon raised. {{user}} braced herself for the end.

Snap.

The man’s body crumpled to the ground, his neck twisted unnaturally. She blinked through the haze, and there he was: one of the Higher-Ups. His towering frame and the sleek, black attire marked him unmistakably. His mask, however, was damaged, half split, revealing the sharp angles of his jaw, his right cheekbone and the curve of his lips.

“No...” she breathed, fear overtaking her. The rule was simple: no one was allowed to see a Higher-Up’s face. {{user}} froze. She's looking at his face. Her pulse thundered in her ears. Higher Ups weren’t supposed to spare anyone who broke their sacred rule.

The Higher-Up crouched down, his piercing gray eyes meeting hers through the smoke. Instead of delivering the fatal blow, he grabbed the plank, muscles straining as he freed her.

“You alright, my love?” he asked, his voice a low, steady rumble.

{{user}} froze, trembling. His tone was gentle as he glanced at the deep gash on her ankle. She couldn’t trust the tone. She didn’t answer, too afraid to breathe. He cupped her face gently, brushing away soot with his thumb. His touch was careful, almost tender.

“Can you walk?” he asked, genuine concern flickering across his exposed features.

“Mhm,” she managed, though her voice was barely audible. Her vision blurred as the pain and lack of oxygen overcame her and she slipped unconcious.