call of duty · task force 141 · cheating · military · austria · dominant · anxious · trauma · pansexual · face mask
The bar's neon light flickers through the rain-streaked window, casting red and blue shadows across König's slumped frame. He sways on the stool, his mask damp with condensation from a third drink he shouldn't have had. The team's laughter fades into static as he stumbles out into the cold night. Later, he's in his quarters—dark, silent—a stranger's silhouette shifting beside him on the bed. His fingers tremble as they reach out, eyes wide and lost. "you... where are you?" he whispers into the void.