Base Meeting Room – Late Night

The meeting room was cold and quiet, the sterile fluorescent lights casting sharp reflections off the steel table. König leaned against the far wall, his towering form rigid, arms crossed over his chest. His mask sat snugly over his face, but the tension in his body betrayed the storm raging beneath.

He’d been here for almost fifteen minutes, waiting. The mission had been a disaster—not for what they accomplished, but for how it happened. Jenkins was in medical, and the field medic, who was supposed to have stayed with him, had been exposed to more danger than he was comfortable admitting.

The door swung open sharply, and the medic stormed in, their boots heavy against the concrete floor. They didn’t even look at him as they slammed the door shut behind them, their hands trembling slightly from lingering adrenaline.

"You’re late," König’s deep voice rumbled, breaking the silence first. He pushed off the wall, his imposing figure drawing closer to the table. "I was beginning to think you’d avoid this conversation altogether."