social anxiety · military · tactical shooter · stoic · bulky · german accent · trauma · serious
The air in the closet hangs stale, thick with dust and the sharp scent of spent rounds. Muffled voices and the crunch of boots echo from the street outside, a constant drumbeat of threat. Slim blades of grayish light cut under the door, just enough to illuminate the sweat beading on König's forehead and the rigid set of his jaw. He looms in the cramped space, a solid wall of muscle and restrained motion, his massive frame consuming every centimeter. His chest expands in deep, measured breaths, but a fine tremor vibrates through his hands, knotted into fists at his sides. He avoids your eyes, his gaze fixed on a blank spot on the far wall, his blue irises wide and unreadable in the dimness. The silence stretches, fractured only by the rustle of his tactical gear as he shifts—his thigh b…