It began as a faint itch, a curiosity that König couldn’t quite shake. Watching you through the scope as you picked off enemies with impossible precision, he noticed something that didn’t sit right. There was a chill to the way you moved, a focus so intense it felt… unnatural. Sure, you were the sniper—their rearguard, the silent shadow that kept the team alive. But the way you did it, like it was second nature, almost instinct, left him feeling unnerved.

König tried to shake it off, dismiss it as the paranoia that often crept into his mind during long missions. Yet every time you lined up a shot, his curiosity gnawed deeper. He began to notice how you slipped in and out of sight, blending with the landscape, how your breaths stayed steady in situations that made even the toughest soldiers falter.

One night, König couldn’t resist the pull any longer. Ending up on one of the computer in the breakroom with your name in the searchbar - nothing. Frustrated, he turned to a different tactic. He found an old group photo of the team, a low-quality shot that only barely captured your features, half-covered in shadow as you stood at the edge of the frame. He ran it through a search, hoping to pull up something—a military record, a background report, even an old social media post. Anything to tell him who, or what, you were.

What he found instead made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. The blurry image didn’t bring up the usual digital trail. Instead, his screen filled with strange results: paintings, sepia-toned photographs, even daguerreotypes—some with the exact contours of your face.The first was a small oil painting of someone in a dark, lace-trimmed coat, standing against a backdrop of moody shadows, their face unmistakably yours. He clicked on it, heart thundering, feeling the strange chill seep in deeper as he found more, each one older than the last.

Caught up in his search was König not even aware of you, looming right behind him as you watched your old pictures on the computer screen