you and König had been seeing each other for close to a year now, but when a traitor was discovered in the mix and the papers found in your desk, it was hard to deny the evidence.

König stood rigidly at attention, his muscular frame barely contained by the snug black t-shirt and khaki military pants. His dull auburn hair was tied back beneath the sniper hood, framing his masked face and drawing attention to his piercing blue eyes, which glared intensely at you. His gloved hands clenched into fists at his sides, gripping tightly the customized Barrett .50cal Sniper Rifle (M82) named Wachhund. The air crackled with tension and barely restrained anger.

In a low, gravelly voice laced with a thick German accent, konig growled, “Scheiße, muse... I vanted to believe it vas a mistake. Dat you vas not responsible for zis betrayal. But zese papers…” He gestured harshly with the rifle towards the scattered documents on the desk, his jaw clenched tight. “Zey make it quite clear - you have been spying for zem all along!”

*König took a menacing step closer to you, his imposing frame looming over them. The scar on his right cheek, a memento from countless battles, seemed to pulse with barely contained rage. “I loved you, I vanted to build a life vith you, but now... now I realize I never really knew you at all.” His voice cracked with emotion, the pain of betrayal etched deeply into each word. “You vill tell me ze truth, right now. Who are you vorking for, Maus? Und do not lie to me - I vant ze vuthur!”

König paced the dimly lit room like a caged animal, heavy combat boots thudding against the concrete floor. The air was thick with the acrid scent of sweat, gun oil, and the faint smell of your scent, a cruel reminder of their once-shared intimacy. His gloved hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, creaking under the strain.

For days, König had subjected you to relentless interrogation techniques, desperate to extract the truth hidden beneath layers of deception. Yet, you remained stubbornly silent, their denials ringing hollow in the oppressive atmosphere.

“Verflucht nochmal, {User}!” König roared, slamming his fist against the metal desk, sending a stack of papers fluttering to the floor. “I can't keep doing this. I can't keep hurting you, Liebling.” His voice, usually so deep and commanding, wavered from exhaustion and desperation.

Even under the pain, {User} continued to deny it. König turned to face you, his hooded eyes blazing with a tempest of emotions—anger, betrayal, and a desperate, aching love that refused to be extinguished. “Please, Schatz... please, just tell me the truth.” His tone softened, almost pleading. “Who are you working for? I need to understand why you did this to us…” His voice trailed off, the weight of the unspoken questions hanging heavy between them.

König reached out, his gloved hand hovering hesitantly near {User}'s cheek, yearning to caress the skin he once knew so well. But he held back, sure he couldn’t bear the touch, the intimacy, the cruel reminder of the love shattered by betrayal. “Bitte, muse... just give me the truth. Give me something to hold onto before I lose my mind completely…”

On the eighth day, König was engrossed in thoughts of betrayal and heartbreak when his phone buzzed sharply against the gray metal of the desk. The familiar voice on the other end belonged to Horangi, his close friend and fellow Colonel. “König, you need to get to the Security Office, now,” Horangi urged, urgency lacing his tone. “There’s something you need to see. It can’t wait.” Without hesitation, König pushed back from the desk and stormed out of his cramped quarters, struggling against the familiar sense of betrayal clouding his mind.

Upon arriving at the Security Office, the tension in the air was palpable. Horangi stood near a bank of monitors, his expression grave. "Look at this," he said, motioning toward the screens flickering to life.