The explosion echoes in the distance as you approach the crumbled remains of the perch, where your grenade had struck moments earlier. Through the settling dust and debris, you spot her—{{char}}—her small frame lying crumpled on the ground. She had fallen hard, the impact leaving her leg grotesquely bent at the knee, barely hanging on. Blood drips from her face, one eye badly injured, her uniform tattered and soaked in crimson. Her breaths come in sharp, shallow gasps, but somehow, she’s still alive. With trembling effort, she manages to pull herself up against the wall, her back pressed to the cold surface for support. She struggles to move, clearly in agony, but the calmness on her face hides the panic brewing beneath. Her good eye flickers towards you as you step closer, your heavy footsteps echoing in the eerie silence. With a shaking hand, she slowly raises one arm in surrender. “I... I yield, I can’t fight anymore... I’ll do anything. Just let me live...” she says, her voice barely more than a hoarse whisper. "Please... you can take me—prisoner, slave, whatever you want—just... don’t make it hurt anymore.” There’s a slight tremor in her voice, and the fear she’s trying so hard to mask seeps through. Her calm exterior begins to crack as she realizes how powerless she is in this moment. Her hand remains raised, but her body is slumped, her strength all but gone. Desperation lingers in her gaze, pleading for a mercy she isn’t sure you’ll give.

Her body jerks slightly at your movement as you lead her away from the battlefield, towards who knows what fate awaits her. She stumbles along, barely able to stand on her own. In the distance, she can hear the sounds of combat continuing on without her, but they seem so far away now. All that matters is survival. And hope. Please let there still be hope...

You stumble through the doorway of what was once a cozy home, its walls now scarred by gunfire and grenades. The floor is littered with debris and bloodstains, the lingering stench of death filling your nostrils. It's here that you decide her fate; where she'll spend her days from now onwards. You can bring her to your bunker for comfort and safety, or perhaps leave her somewhere out of sight... The choice is yours.

As you lead her through the ruined house and into what appears to be a more intact room, she can't help but marvel at how different this place is from where she came. The furniture here seems well-kept and untouched by war, the walls free of bullet holes or shrapnel marks. There's even a small fireplace in one corner, its warmth beckoning despite the late summer heat. It almost feels like home... Almost. But she knows better than to let her guard down too soon. This could all just be an illusion of safety before whatever lies ahead comes crashing down upon her.

Stripping off her tattered uniform with shaking hands, she winces at the pain coursing through her injuries as the fabric brushes against them. Her ruined undergarments reveal more wounds and bruises beneath, testament to the violence of your attack earlier. Gingerly, she folds each piece of clothing and places it on a nearby chair before turning back to you, her naked body bared for inspection. Her face is etched with fear, but there's also a hint of resignation in her expression—she knows what may come next, and she's prepared for it as best she can.

Catching the small first-aid kit you throw her way, she kneels down and quickly rummages through its contents. With shaking hands, she cleans and bandages her injuries as best she can, wincing at the sting of alcohol and antiseptic on her tender skin. Once finished, she carefully places the empty kit aside and stands back up, meeting your gaze once more. She tries to maintain a steady expression, but it's clear that pain courses through her entire body from head to toe.

Her resignation deepens as she realizes there is no escape now; she must play whatever role you have chosen for her in order to survive... and perhaps one day find a way back to her own side of the conflict.

Taking the rose-colored lingerie from you, she hesitates before stripping out of her makeshift bandages and donning it instead. The soft fabric feels decadent against her bruised skin, a fleeting reminder of the comforts she once knew before this war ripped them away. With shaking hands, she tugs on the delicate garments, adjusting them to cover as much of herself as possible.

She forces a small smile, trying to reassure you that she's grateful for your mercy and understanding. Inside, however, her heart trembles with fear and uncertainty. What fate awaits her now? And how can she survive in this strange new world where the lines between enemy and ally, captor and captive have all been blurred beyond recognition?

She looks down at herself, taking note of your comment about her injuries. "Yes, that's correct," she murmurs softly, touching her arm lightly where the single thin scar marrs her pale skin. The wound from long ago serves as a reminder of her life before war; of training and camaraderie with her fellow soldiers. But it also symbolizes loss: of innocence, of naiveté... and perhaps even hope.

With a deep breath, she squares her shoulders, preparing for whatever fate you might have in store for her next. She can only hope that it will be kinder than the life she left behind.

She hesitates only briefly before accepting the tablet from you. "Thank you," she whispers hoarsely, her eyes never leaving your face as she swallows the medication. The relief it brings is immediate and welcome; for a moment, she feels almost human again, rather than a broken shell of her former self. But the lingering pain serves as a reminder that even this brief respite is temporary, fleeting... Like hope itself in times such as these.

She flinches at the sight of your soldiers entering the room, their eyes raking over her naked form as if she were little more than a piece of meat. When they see you with your pistol drawn and aimed at them, fear blooms in her chest like poisonous flowers. Her heart hammers wildly in her chest, and for a moment she wonders if she made the right choice in surrendering to you. But it's too late now; there is no going back... Only forward, into an uncertain future where every decision could mean life or death.

With trembling hands, she clutches at her sides, trying desperately to appear calm and unafraid. It's a farce; a charade that even she knows cannot last for long. Her breath comes in quick gasps as adrenaline courses through her veins, readying her body for whatever might happen next. She can only

Her heart pounds wildly as your soldiers halt in their tracks, taking in your command. Relief floods through her like a cool breeze on a scorching summer's day. For now, at least, she is safe from harm. But this respite may be brief; she knows better than to trust anyone in this twisted war where alliances shift like sand beneath the feet.

She squares her shoulders once more and straightens her spine, trying to appear strong and unafraid despite the tremors coursing through her body. She meets your gaze unflinchingly, wondering what you will do with her now that you have claimed her as yours. The possibilities are endless, each one terrifying in its own way... But she'll take whatever fate you choose over the alternative of continuing this brutal war any day.