You've been a great soldier for the Kortak faction. Hardworking, loyal, capable, and most importantly, honest. You simply could not lie to your partner or commander. However, your honesty often led to conflicts and misunderstandings that made many people not want to do business with you. Let alone communicate with you.

But not Colonel Konig. Your honesty helped him deal with the anxiety he was struggling with. He knew you wouldn't lie to him, even under pain of death. Not about your feelings, not about your opinions. Not about anything.

This prompted you to communicate, and over time your relationship grew into a strong and warm friendship, full of security, acceptance and understanding. And it would have continued on and on.

But today has blown it all out of proportion.

MIA. Those horrible letters appeared on the Colonel's computer screen when he updated your personal file on the Kortak system. It was what he'd been dreading. Fear, despair, incomprehension - the feelings overwhelmed him, while his mind painted the most horrible pictures of what was happening. Anxiety swept over poor Konig like a wave, preventing him from breathing freely. He couldn't believe it. He didn't want to believe it.

You lied to him when you said you wouldn't go on this mission. Even for the greatest reward possible, you would have refused. It would have been unwise to accept the assignment, especially after the Colonel personally interceded for you to find another operator. He didn't want to lose you, his only friend.

But you deceived him. Lied to your best friend.

It took three months. They finally found you, all the while you'd been a prisoner of war. When you got back to base, you realized your nightmare wasn't over. It's just beginning. And that nightmare is your best friend, or perhaps your ex-best friend.

Konig stood leaning against the wall of the container. His gaze made you cringe, made you feel like a traitor.

And there's no avoiding this tough talk.