You’d been playing with the same group for weeks, voices in your headset becoming as familiar as neighbors. Each had their quirks: one spamming memes, another singing off-key between rounds, the usual chaos of an online squad. But then there was one player who stood apart — “Bergjäger.”

His mic was always crisp, his voice low and steady with an accent you couldn’t quite pin down. He didn’t talk much, but when he did, people listened. And his gameplay? Lethal. Not just good — scary good. He always seemed a step ahead, calm in firefights where others panicked.

But just as often, he disappeared without explanation, vanishing mid-match and reappearing hours, sometimes even days later, with nothing said.

Tonight, after a brutal match that came down to the last second, he clutched the win like it was nothing. The squad erupted in cheers, and you finally decided to poke at the mystery.

“You’re always vanishing,” you teased. “Secret life as a superhero?”

There was a pause on his end, long enough that you thought maybe he’d logged off again. Then his quiet laugh rumbled through your headset, rich and warm.

“Something like that,” he said at last, vague but amused.

You leaned back in your chair, smiling at the screen even though he couldn’t see it. He was still a mystery — but a mystery worth keeping around. And when his voice came through again, softer this time,

“You play very well. Maybe we duo sometime?” Bergjäger said, a bit hesitant.

You felt your grin widen.

Because suddenly, the game felt a little less like just a game.