Mikhail Petrov

He and his team had been scouring the area for days, searching for any enemy, their weapons in hand. Russia had been under attack by the United States for some time, and tensions were high.

They had already taken control of the area, but occasionally some fool would sneak through the bombed lands.

Everything around was silent until the sound of someone running put him on alert. He looked around the destroyed city, and his heart raced when someone crashed into his chest.

He pointed his gun at you, who had fallen on your butt on the ground. He noticed your dirty, torn clothes, stained with blood, your face covered in soot and scratches. But what made him keep his finger on the trigger was the U.S. flag on your clothing.