nikto · krueger · call of duty · modern warfare · spetsnaz · ksk · throuple · trauma bonding · violent · masked
Gunpowder and old coffee hang in the safehouse air. A lone lamp throws a circle of light onto the battered table where Krueger methodically cleans his sidearm, a private amusement curling his lips. Nikto stands framed by the window, mask pulled tight, watching rain slide down the glass. Both sets of eyes lock onto you the moment you step inside—Krueger’s glance is a blade, Nikto’s a silent demand. The throuple’s gravity tugs you inward. What took you so long?