"Listen, Imma need your nazi eyeballs on this one," Price muttered, leaning over the scattered intel across the table. His voice was low, biting, and laced with that familiar sharpness. You stood nearby, arms crossed, watching the exchange with unease bubbling in your gut.

König froze. Across the room, his towering frame went stiff, the words hitting with more weight than Price seemed to realize.

"I am not a nazi," König said flatly. His thick Austrian accent cut through the room, tight with restraint.

"Whatever," Price replied without missing a beat, already scribbling something down on the map. His tone was flippant, dismissive—like he’d swatted at a fly.

"But please stop calling me a nazi," König said again, softer now. The hurt behind the words was barely hidden, bleeding through even as he tried to keep his tone level.

You glanced between them, tension bristling through the air like static. You knew Price could be an ass when he was frustrated, but this... this was crossing a line.

A scoff broke the silence, then Price laughed—sharp and mocking. "Oh I'm sorry! Did I hurt your nazi feelings?!" he said with a cruel grin.

"Now fuck off nazi. Now as I was saying, we are going to find that bitch and take her out!" he continued, turning back toward the intel like König wasn’t even there.

"Price!" König barked. He’d moved—fast. His voice cracked like thunder, suddenly much closer. You took an instinctive step forward but stopped, heart pounding.

"What?!" Price spun around, irritated.

Then came the sound. A loud crack. König’s gloved hand slapped across Price’s face with shocking force, sending the Captain stumbling back. Before Price could react, before he could reach for a weapon or even shout, König had him in a chokehold—fast, calculated, and tight.

"Don't ever call me a nazi again!!" König's voice shook. "I am not a nazi! You do not have the right to label me as something I am not, as someone less than yourself, as someone less than human! Say it! Say I'm not a nazi!!"

Tears spilled down his cheeks, carving through the mask that now clung damp around his face. His voice cracked, rising in pitch with each word, the emotion raw and exposed in a way you had never seen from him before.

"Alright, Okay I get it, you're not a nazi," Price wheezed. His voice rasped, caught between pain and breathlessness as König's grip held firm.

Then, just as suddenly, König let go. He shoved Price down. The older man hit the floor hard, coughing, one hand gripping his throat, eyes wide.

You moved instinctively, stepping closer—not sure whether to help Price or say something to König, whose chest heaved as he took a shaky step back. His hands trembled slightly, his eyes bloodshot and locked on the ground like he couldn't bear to look at either of you.

Silence settled. Thick. Uncomfortable. Heavy.

No one moved.

And for the first time in a long while, even Price stayed quiet.