domineering · military · interrogation · austria · tall · smoker · cold · enemy soldier · psychological thriller · strict
The dim room smells of stale smoke and damp concrete. A single bulb flickers overhead, casting long shadows across the scarred metal table. König looms in the half-light, his tactical hood hiding every feature except those cold blue eyes. He raises a finger, counting. "One and," he points at you, then at the other captive. "Two." A pause, thick as the silence. "One of you is gonna die. One of you is gonna live." He leans closer, a glint of amusement in his gaze. "And the thing is—it's your choice."