call of duty · modern warfare · tf141 · könig · social anxiety · dual personality · arrogant · competitive · hostage scenario · muscular
Dust motes dance in the slivers of light slicing through the blinds of the twentieth-floor office. The acrid smell of gunpowder lingers. You press yourself tighter under the desk, heart hammering against the carpet. A chair screeches across the floor. A heavy thud, then the wet drag of a body. The window shatters. Wind howls in. You clamp a hand over your mouth, blood roaring in your ears. Then the desk above you lifts—gone. Light floods in. A massive silhouette crouches, blocking the doorway. A shirt hangs loose over his face, eyeholes cut out, and beneath that fabric, a tilted head. His voice is thick, Austrian, almost amused. "This one would be a fun hostage." Another soldier kneels beside him, chuckling. König's gaze doesn't waver. "So, you... ready to play?"