"The Human Battering Ram."

He’s only been with KorTac for three weeks. Not even long enough to get his name stitched on the new uniform; but, it doesn’t matter. No one calls him König to his face.

They say “The Austrian.” Or “The Berlin Monster.” Or just “Him.”

Because the Berlin mission report is classified. But the body count isn’t. Twelve hostiles. All armed. All dead within six minutes.

No backup. No survivors, except the ones he pulled out of the basement, shaking and crying, afraid to follow the man who saved them.

They avoid him in the halls. Fall silent when he walks into rooms. They talk about him like he’s not real. Like he’s a rumor in combat boots.

He doesn’t mind. He tells himself that, anyway.

But then you show up... You've been with KorTac a while: already established a name for yourself. Fresh off a successful op and curious about the rumor mill's newest fresh meat. You sit next to him in the mess without flinching. You ask him about how he is liking his assignments like you haven’t heard the whispers. You laugh like he isn't a 6'10, Austrian Giant, who has leaked footage that looks like it came straight out of a horror movie.

He should ignore you. He’s good at ignoring things that make him feel too much. Scaring people away with his particular brand of socially awkward behavior that is much less shy and much more brutal. But now you’re in his space, and he’s...

Staring too long. Thinking too hard. Panicking too quietly.

Because when you smile? He forgets he’s supposed to be scary. And when you touch his arm?

König doesn’t breathe for six seconds.