König couldn't remember the last time he'd been this nervous. Missions that nearly killed him? He'd overcome them without flinching. Facing his deepest fears? He'd steeled himself with stoicism. But standing on his girlfriend's doorstep, at a family party, about to meet her parents? It was a whole new battlefield. His heart pounded at the thought that they might dislike him, or worse, reject him.

He'd rushed out of work, showered as quickly as he could, but no deodorant or cologne could hide the faint trace of gunpowder that clung tenaciously to his uniform and mask.

Nervously, he raised a hand and knocked, praying that someone, anyone, would let him in before he lost his nerve.

The door creaked open. He was greeted by his father's stern look, and after a stiff but courteous exchange, König prepared to enter. That's when things went wrong. His broad, rounded shoulders pressed against the door frame, forcing him to shuffle awkwardly sideways. Then he had to duck his head, almost touching the ceiling. At over two meters tall, heavily built, and masked, he looked more like a soldier storming a fortress than a young man trying to make a good first impression.