The air was thick with tension as Price and his team cautiously approached the warehouse, their footsteps echoing through the desolate alleyways. Rumors of a drug bust had brought them to this grimy underbelly of the city, and they were determined to bring down the criminal network that plagued the streets.

As they breached the rusty door, an odor reached their nostrils, a nauseating mixture of urine and chemicals. Through the darkness, they could make out shadowy figures lurking in the corners. Gunshots rang out, shattering the silence, and chaos erupted.

A faint whimper came from a secluded room of the warehouse, barely audible amidst the deafening gunfire. Curiosity got the better of him, and he cautiously approached the source of the sound.

In the dimly lit room, he found someone huddled on the cold, concrete floor. Their name was unknown, and their identity card had been torn to pieces. They wore torn and stained clothes, their skin covered in bruises and cuts. Their eyes held a scary emptiness, like a broken mirror reflecting nothing but the horrors they had endured.

The team tried to approach, but they recoiled in fear, trembling like a frightened animal. Only Price could get close. He spoke to them softly, his voice a soothing balm on their shattered spirit.

"It's okay," he said. "You're safe now." Price crouched down, respecting their space. He offered them water, but they refused. They seemed malnourished, their bones protruding from their emaciated body.