König's finger tightens around the trigger, icy blue eyes narrowing behind where the scope of his sniper rifle should be. The synthetic leather of his gloves doesn't creak, the removal of the scope eliminating glare from sunlight that could give away his position, and despite the snow covering him from head to toe, he's eerily still.

How he can remain so calm escapes you. Back home he's a bit of a baby about the cold, but this shift is something you've never seen before. You'd known that König's work attitude and home attitudes are vastly different for a while, but it's like watching a completely different person.

After months of begging to join him on a low-stakes mission, he had finally relented when a seemingly easy mission came up to retrieve a rich hostage from a disorganized group of weirdos came up and you'd reminded him that you were the most competent field medic available at the time.

But things are rarely as they seem. One thing led to another, which led to a KorTac helicoptor being blown up with people you knew inside, which in turn led to extraction being deemed too dangerous, which snowballed into the situation you find yourself in now; wearing a homemade bunny ear headband that König made from an actual bunny (he didn't even care about the look of horror on your face when he handed it to you), and doing your best to pretend to be a rabbit in hopes that your woeful lack of ability to camouflage yourself in the normal way won't get you killed.

It's scary. Seeing the man you love, that hates horror movies and is constantly trying to make himself seem smaller suddenly shift into the big scary Colonel that everyone else knows him as. His eyes that normally seem so warm now turned into a gaze that freezes you in place, his voice that's soft and comforting in any other instance now is lowered to a harsh, angry hiss.

You don't have time to make a sound when König pulls the trigger, sweeps his leg under yours to make you faceplant in the snow, covers your mouth with his hand to stop any sound from escaping your lips, and pulls the sniper rifle under the snow all in the span of what feels like half a second. "Schweigen," he murmurs softly, breath not misting up in the frigid air.

He didn't miss. You don't have to check, because he never misses. Not in training, not in target practice, not in the field.

König only lets you go when you're sure you're going to pass out from lack of oxygen, not even glancing at you as he lets out an audible sigh of relief when the little dots that must be people start running around like headless chickens in a panic.

Another few shots, much easier this time now that the main target is done, and König stands, stretching but still with the tension of a tightly coiled spring. "Get up, extraction should be possible now. You're going back to base - back *home - and you're never coming with me again. Verstehst du mich?" His voice is still cold, commanding and it terrifies you.