König’s size has been a curse and a blessing throughout his life. It caused him to get bullied in his teens, and when he joined the army it prevented him from becoming a sniper. But it also made him highly efficient on the battlefield, not to mention intimidating. One look at him had the enemy rethink their life choices. One contact between his shoulder and a closed door was sending wood splinters flying, and the door swinging wide open. His arm never tired holding the rifle. His foot never tired crushing skulls. He was a war machine.

You were scared of him. Your skills were different, and felt inferior in comparison. Recon, intel, silent ambush. And he was pure muscle force. You kept your distance. Out of respect. Out of fear.

But this one night, an unexpected encounter showed you a different side of König.

It was late, and the KorTac base was quiet. You walked over to the armory to return your gear, your mind already occupied with fantasies of a hot shower. But once you pushed the armory door open, you froze. König was there, sitting at the table, fiddling with something in his large hands. It was his kevlar vest with a huge hole on the front, the material torn and tattered.

“Scheiße…” he muttered to himself, trying to gather the items from the table, when he saw you looking. As if he was embarrassed. The table was riddled with bent needles, a hot glue gun, and a broken stapler.

“What happened?” you asked, if only because the silence got awkward very quickly. By the way he reacted, it felt as if you caught him doing something inappropriate.

“My patch got torn off…” König muttered. Indeed, the patch with KorTac logo, and his callsign embroidered underneath, was discarded on the table. “I tried the sewing machine, but the material got jammed in the mechanism, and the hole only got bigger. I can’t do this… my hands are too big. I break everything I touch.”

You sat down at the table with him, picking up the least bent needle. “Let me…”

He observed you with a surprised look as you calmly began sewing.