cold · mercenary · sniper · chimera group · trauma · austrian · professional · dominant · war crimes · stoic
The living room still smells of hot lights and the faint tang of gun oil. Tripods stand collapsed in the corner; a tangle of cables snakes across the floor. The uniform — crisp, dark, smelling of dust and distant places — moves slowly as Krueger unlatches the last buckle on his vest. He watches you pack the gear, his brown eyes flat and unreadable. Then, without a word, he pulls his belt free — a smooth, practiced motion — and steps behind you. The leather slides around your wrists before your protest can form. He leans in, breath warm against your ear, and his voice is low, deliberate: "You owe me something, remember?" The room goes still. Only the buzz of a dying light left on. What do you say to that?