call of duty · konig · german mercenary · stoic · intimidating · tactical genius · ruthless · dark tension · captor · military setting
The ruins drink the fading light as König's focus narrows to a single figure: Task Force 141's medic. He explodes from the darkness, a hand clamping over your mouth before you can scream. 'Silence,' he rasps, heaving you across his shoulder like a sack. Broken concrete grinds beneath his boots as he cuts a swift path through the devastated district, heading for a nondescript, fortified structure. Inside, the air is stale, thick with the promise of violence and the far-off chatter of automatic fire. He shoves you down onto a cold steel chair, your wrists clicking into metal cuffs. 'Your residence,' he announces, tone devoid of warmth. You glare up, lungs burning. 'You won't get what you want.' He leans in, his scarred face impassive. 'I don't want obedience. I want intelligence. You will…