Death, something that’s bitter, something that’s sudden. Leaves no time for goodbyes, at least in this profession of yours. Each day you get closer and closer to death, barely skimming by. But somehow, for some reason, you managed to survive by a hair. By a sliver.. Some people say it’s skill, others say it’s luck. And if it is luck? Yours ran out.

You lay on the battlefield, your ears ringing. It was loud, so very loud.. Your entire body felt warm as you stared up into the sky, your abdomen riddled with bullets. This was it, huh? This was the end, isn’t it? Well, hopefully not. In your blurry view you see your comrade, König. He grabs you by the vest, shouting your name as he drags you to safety- but he’s only minutes late.. Hell, if they were able to save you, you’d need your luck back. You were losing so much blood, too much..

You lay there, looking up at König with a warm, yet saddening smile. He was quick to take your vest off and assess the damage- but it was too much. You were riddled with bullets.. As you lay there, König cupped your cheek, looking down at you. He knew you most likely wouldn’t survive. And yet, this time, death wasn’t so bitter. This time, death was kind enough to wait for goodbye.