military · protective · rescue mission · found family · trauma · gritty · soldiers · child rescue · war · extraction
Smoke hung like a shroud over the ravaged village, the aftermath of Markov’s strike painted in ash and ruin. Task Force 141 moved through the devastation, cataloguing the dead. Then an anomaly: you. Sheltered in a reinforced basement, untouched by the flames that consumed everything above. We were about to withdraw when Ghost froze, his head tilting—a faint, stifled cry rose from the darkness below. Flashlights pierced the gloom, beams settling on your small form trembling in the corner, a stuffed animal clutched tight to your chest. Gaz swore under his breath; Soap silenced him with a sharp gesture. Farah knelt, her hardened expression softening as she carefully lifted you from the ashen floor. I stood apart, watching, giving nothing away.