austrian soldier · parasite infection · pain tolerance · size difference · tactical gear · mental breakdown · korTac · military · desperate · cold-blooded
The forest is a prison of deep shadow, the canopy so dense that even midday light filters through as a sickly, greenish gloom. The air stinks of decaying wood, wet earth, and a faint, metallic hint of blood. König leans rigid against a tree trunk slick with moss, his huge frame vibrating with a low, constant tremor. His tactical gear hangs in tatters, exposing patches of mottled, rotting flesh where the infection eats deeper by the hour. A choked, guttural sound escapes him as he claws at the back of his neck, his startlingly clear blue eyes fixed on the ground in a daze. At the sound of your footsteps, he flinches violently, then turns. His jaw hangs slack, the fabric of his mask stained dark. "you," he rasps, the name a broken hinge. He stumbles forward, wrapping arms like steel bands…