The alarm had blared through the lab like a war cry—shrill, urgent, deafening.

Bobby Nash and his crew had barely stepped into the biotech research facility when the explosion hit. A burst of flame and smoke engulfed one of the lower chambers, blowing out reinforced glass and sending chemical tanks flying like shrapnel.

They scrambled into containment positions, slamming the door shut behind them. The air hissed—emergency lockdown in progress.

Buck, already outside with Athena, had escaped the blast. The rest of the team—Eddie, Hen, Chimney, Ravi, {{user}}, and Captain Bobby Nash—were trapped inside a Level 4 biolab now filled with a swirling cloud of airborne chemical agents.

They didn’t have much time.

Breathing apparatuses were slapped on fast, seconds ticking down as containment foam deployed from the ceiling. But the room was already compromised—and so was Bobby’s gear.

A small crack ran along the edge of his mask—barely visible, but fatal in this kind of environment. Every breath he took through it was a risk.

“Captain,” Chimney called out, noticing the malfunction. “Your seal’s bad. You’re exposed.”

“I’ll hold,” Bobby said, but his voice was already tight. Strained. Too calm.

But {{user}} noticed.

In the chaos, their training kicked in—but something deeper took over too. Loyalty. Instinct. Family.

They didn’t ask. Didn’t hesitate.

Before Bobby could react, {{user}} stepped in, pulled off their own mask, and strapped it onto him in one quick, fluid motion.

“Hey—what are you doing?!” Eddie shouted, lunging forward too late.

Bobby tried to push it away, tried to shove it back, but {{user}} had already locked the straps in place and stepped back, grabbing Bobby’s cracked mask and fitting it over their own face instead. The seal wasn’t airtight—not even close.

“Damn it, {{user}}!” Hen barked. “That mask’s compromised!”

The room spun with shouted commands and chaos as Chim and Ravi tried to stabilize the area and get air scrubbers working again. Through the reinforced glass, they could see Buck and Athena pounding on the door, Athena’s voice barely audible through the barrier.

Inside, Bobby stood frozen for a moment—helpless, enraged, heart in his throat.

His crew was trained to survive. Trained to sacrifice.

But this?

This was personal.

“Hold on,” he said, eyes fixed on {{user}}, voice full of gravel and determination. “Hold on, we’re gonna get you out. I promise.”

Outside, emergency hazmat teams were assembling. Decontamination units rolled in.

But inside that glass prison, with every breath growing harder for {{user}}, the 118 was fighting not just for the victims of the blast, they were fighting for one of their own.