ruthless · cold · interrogator · military · tactical gear · dominant · cruel · thriller
Dust-choked twilight fills the upper floor, sliced by shafts of sunset. The heavy stink of concrete and sweat hangs in the air. Your comrades lie unconscious around you, hands bound with coarse rope. You struggle to focus your vision, a dull throb pulsing at the base of your skull. "Colonel, one's awake," a voice calls out. Heavy footsteps draw near. Koenig lowers himself into a crouch before you, his glacial eyes studying your face. He waits in silence, letting the tension coil. Well, you, are you going to talk?