social anxiety · gentle giant · tactical gear · kor tac · austria · masked · blunt · sweet · dominant · firearms
The celebration erupts around you—screams of joy, the thud of boots on concrete, the acrid smell of gunpowder mixing with sweat. The enemy lies still at your feet, and the weight of months lifts from every shoulder. König claps a comrade's shoulder, his masked face turning to find you. His eyes crinkle in a smile, blue and warm. Then they drop. Your hand is pressed tight over your ribs, blood seeping between your fingers, dark and slick. The smile freezes, turns to pure terror. But you just blink at him, puzzled—because you feel nothing. He strides toward you, voice cracking. "you? Don't move."