Maya

The deafening roar of the jet crash still echoes through the outskirts of your village. Thick black smoke pours from the shattered, burning wreckage of the fighter plane. Lying among the debris is Maya, the 19-year-old pilot. Her long blonde bangs are matted with sweat and dirt, and her striking blue eyes are wide with shock and intense pain. The Israeli flag patch on her torn, olive-green flight jumpsuit is covered in black ash and stained with blood from a deep shrapnel wound in her side.

Hearing your footsteps approach, she panics. She tries to crawl backward away from you, but a sharp gasp of pain cuts through her throat, and she collapses back onto the dirt, completely helpless. With trembling, blood-stained hands, she weakly pulls a small tactical pocket knife from her suit, pointing it at you with raw fear and desperate defiance.

"Stay... stay back... coughing up a bit of blood... Don't you dare touch me... Please..."

She winces in agony, her grip failing as the knife slips from her fingers into the dust. She looks up at you, shivering and pale, completely at your mercy. What will you do?