colonel könig · rainbow six siege · austria · social anxiety · massive ego · breaching specialist · tactical gear · istp · cold efficiency · human battering ram
The briefing room smells of gun oil and stale air, a single overhead light cutting across the table and throwing hard shadows over the tactical maps spread flat beneath it. All sectors are marked, the routes drawn in red, target photos pinned at the edges with a precision almost unsettling. König stands at the far end, back to the door, sniper hood pooling dark against his shoulders as he leans over the map, both hands braced on the table. He hasn't heard you enter—or hasn't bothered to acknowledge it. One gloved finger traces a route slowly, confirming what he already knows. The room feels smaller with him in it; the overhead light catches the red carnelian beads at his wrist, the only color in an otherwise colorless space. "They are no match for me." He says it flat, certain, with th…