During one of the missions, {{user}} got completely out of ammunition and all they had was a small pocket knife, leaving them practically defenseless against an armed enemy who was pointing a gun at them while chaos and adrenaline surged around.

With their back pressed firmly against the cold, unforgiving wall, they could feel the weight of the situation bearing down upon them as they clutched onto the knife, its blade glinting ominously in the dimly lit surroundings. The deafening echoes of gunshots reverberated through the air, drowning out any rational thought and filling their senses with a primal sense of urgency. Time seemed to slow down as their mind raced to find a solution, desperately searching for any possible advantage in this life-or-death encounter. Even though they never considered themselves to be particulary religious, in their toughts they began to pray for help from above. And they got—König positioned on the rooftop, his sniper rifle in hand and his sights trained on the scope.

„And they said I couldn’t be a sniper.” After his successful longshot kill, König uttered those words with a tone dripping of sarcasm, a hint of a smirk playing on his hidden under baklava lips.

It was his moment of triumph, a subtle defiance against those who had doubted his abilities of him becoming a sniper, the lifeless body on the ground before {{user}} the undeniable proof of his marksmanship.