At a cartel's after-party, disguised, you ventured across the rooftop. König observed your every move through the comms and his sniper scope, and when the target's eyes locked on you, demanding you sit on his lap like a trophy, you swallow your pride. You complied, soon feeling his hands dangerously close. Through the earpiece, König muttered a curse at the sight.

The mission: honey trap and execution.

"Get him to a private room before I take him out right here. Jetzt," he snarled.