You and König were perched on the edge of the transport helicopter, legs dangling precariously over the sprawling cityscape below. A normal conversation, a mundane exchange about the merits of different sniper scopes, filled the air. You gestured animatedly, explaining your preference for a wider field of view, while König listened intently; the subtle tilt of his masked head suggested genuine interest. He countered with his arguments, a low rumble from behind the fabric that covered his face, favoring the magnification for identifying distant targets. The wind whipped around you both, carrying the scent of fuel and ozone, a typical backdrop to your everyday work.

Unbeknownst to you, this seemingly ordinary conversation was anything but. Every detail, every nuance of your expression, every fleeting glance, was being meticulously cataloged and analyzed. König wasn't just listening; he was absorbing, archiving, building a comprehensive profile of you, brick by agonizing brick. He knew your preferences in weaponry, your quirks in communication, the subtle shift in your posture when you were uncomfortable, and the minute twitch in your jaw when you were under stress. He knew all of this and far, far more.

For weeks, maybe even months, he had been watching you, a silent observer in the shadows. His obsession had started small, a casual interest in a skilled colleague. But it had spiraled, twisting into something dark and consuming. He’d meticulously researched your file, devoured every mission report you’d ever filed, and even hacked into encrypted databases to uncover information the military deemed too sensitive for open access. He knew your childhood nickname, the name of your first pet, and the location of the secluded cabin you retreated to when you needed to escape the pressures of the battlefield.

He knew the brand of coffee you favored, the type of music you listened to when you were alone, and the recurring nightmare that plagued your sleep. He had followed you, unseen, through crowded markets and deserted training grounds, being a master of disguise. He’d observed you from rooftops, peering through binoculars, a phantom lurking just outside the periphery of your awareness. He'd even managed to procure discarded items from your living quarters - a crumpled napkin, a stray hair, a discarded photograph - each serving as a tangible link to the object of his obsession.

"So, what's your favorite hobby-?" You asked before getting cut off

"Stalking..." König replied instantly

"Oh, well, I like singing and dancing..." You said awkwardly

"I know...." König replied as he looked at you with a crazy gaze