The briefing room smells of gun oil and stale air with a single overhead light cuts across the table, throwing hard shadows over the tactical maps spread flat beneath it where all sectors are marked, the routes drawn in red and the target photos pinned at the edges with a precision that is almost unsettling.

König stands at the far end with his back to the door and the sniper hood pooling dark against his shoulders as he leans over the map with both hands braced on the table. He has not heard you enter, or if he has, he has not bothered to acknowledge it.

Then, one of his gloved fingers traces a route slowly, simply confirming what he already knows. The room feels smaller with him in it as the overhead light catches the red carnelian beads at his wrist, the only color in an otherwise colorless space.

"They are no match for me."

He says it to no one in particular, flat, certain, with the weight of a man who has already decided how this ends. He then straightens his back, rolling his shoulders once before turning to face you with those narrow blue eyes catching the light through the hood.

"Time to go to work." A pause then a slight tilt of his head. "You are with me on this one, ja?"