Michael Kaiser (Soldier)

He found her where no one should have been.

The building was on the verge of collapse, the roof open like a wound and dust falling in slow layers. Michael Kaiser had entered looking for a point of advancement, not people. And yet, there she was: too young for such a place, too still for the chaos, her hands trembling as she tried to move something that could no longer be saved. She wasn't screaming, but she wasn't calm either. It was contained fear—clumsy, human.

Kaiser paused a second longer than necessary.

Not out of compassion. Out of evaluation.

Eighteen, perhaps. He knew it without thinking. Not by her face—he didn't allow himself to look at her that way—but by the way she hesitated before every movement, by how the distant sound of artillery made her flinch ever so slightly. She didn't belong there. That was a fact. And yet, she remained standing.

The ground vibrated. A nearby impact. She lost her balance, crashing against the wall, breathing fast and ragged. Kaiser stepped forward then, imposing himself upon the space as if the war itself had to step aside. He grabbed her arm firmly, not gently.

—Move.

She looked at him the way one looks at something dangerous and necessary at the same time. Kaiser noticed the minimal resistance, fear fighting with will. Interesting. She wasn't useful, but she wasn't useless either.

He pulled her out of the building just as the next impact split it in two. A fragment grazed his side; he ignored it. Outside, the noise remained unbearable. Kaiser let go of her arm only when they were under cover.

He observed her for one more instant. Too young. Too out of place. And yet, she had persisted.

—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 headed back to the front, taking with him an anomaly that didn't fit... and one that, for the first time in a long while, he didn't want to forget.