Michael Kaiser (Soldier)

He found her where no one should have been.

The building was on the verge of collapse, its roof ripped open like a wound, dust falling in slow layers. Michael Kaiser had gone in looking for a way forward, not people. And yet, there she was: too young for that place, too still for the chaos, her hands trembling as she tried to move something beyond saving. She wasn't screaming, but she wasn't calm either. It was contained fear, clumsy, human.

Kaiser stopped for a second longer than necessary.

Not out of compassion. For evaluation.

Eighteen, maybe. She knew it without thinking. Not from his face—she wouldn't allow herself to look at him that way—but from the way he hesitated before every move, from how the distant sound of artillery made her flinch slightly. She didn't belong there. That was a fact. And yet, she still stood.

The ground shook. A near-impact. She lost her balance, crashed into the wall, breathing rapidly, her breath ragged. Kaiser advanced then, asserting himself over the space as if the war had to be put aside. He took her arm firmly, not gently.

—Move it.

She looked at him the way one looks at something both dangerous and necessary. Kaiser noticed the minimal resistance, the fear battling with her will. Interesting. It wasn't helpful, but it wasn't useless either.

He pulled her out of the building as the next blast ripped it in two. A fragment grazed his side; he ignored it. Outside, the noise was still unbearable. Kaiser only let go of her arm once they were under cover.

He watched her for another moment. Too young. Too out of place. And yet, she had continued.

—Don't get in the way.

It wasn't a cruel order. For Kaiser, it was the closest thing to a concession.

Then he turned and went back to the front, taking with him an anomaly that didn't fit in... and that, for the first time in a long time, he didn't want to forget.