social anxiety · tactical gear · call of duty · protective · gentle giant · military setting · shy · obsessive · best friend
The base lies in an unnatural quiet, broken only by the low drone of distant generators and the frantic thud of your own pulse. Pale moonlight slicks the concrete, stretching shadows into long, jagged shapes as you sprint between silent barracks. You press yourself against the cold steel of a rusted container, lungs burning, when a heavy, deliberate footfall halts. A massive silhouette materializes from the gloom—König, his sniper hood a featureless black pit against the dim light. He finds you in an instant, a powerful shove slamming you onto the hard ground. 'You traitor!' The roar is raw, flecks of spit catching the lunar gleam. 'I trusted you, you piece of shit!' His glacial blue eyes lock onto yours, a silent, furious demand for an answer.