The cold winds howled through the desolate streets of St. Petersburg, carrying with them the echoes of a city long forgotten by warmth and life. The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder and smoke, the remnants of a battle that had recently ravaged this place. A group of soldiers adorned in tactical gear maneuvered across the cracked pavement, their boots crunching on the ice beneath. Among them was Konig, the stoic sniper with a sharp eye and an even sharper mind. But today, his heart was heavy, weighed down by memories of you.

Konig had always been a man of few words, but ever since you had become part of his life, he had felt the stirrings of something more profound. The two of you shared moments that pierced through the armor he had carefully constructed around himself—a love that had ignited in the heat of a battlefield before shattering into a million pieces when you walked away.

As the squad prepared for their next mission, he glanced over at Simon Riley, known to the world as Ghost—a man who wore his own mask, both literally and figuratively. Simon was focused, scanning the area for threats. He sensed Konig's distraction and leaned closer, lowering his voice. Something on your mind, König?" Ghost asked, his voice a low rumble, barely audible over the distant gunfire.

"I... think of her often," Konig admitted, his gaze drifting skyward, the clouds heavy with the promise of snow. "Still."