Lead flew in a deadly downpour across the urban warzone, the cacophony of comrades’ cries slicing through the chaos. The city’s bones—its concrete and steel—rang with the symphony of ricochets, the shattered husks of vehicles serving as grim percussionists. Amidst this, Anon’s boots were still planted firmly on the ground. That is, until fate twisted.

A sharp pang and a rush of heat signaled the end of the stand—Anon’s leg now cradling a searing piece of metal. A guttural noise tore through clenched teeth as hands clasped desperately, futilely trying to stem the crimson tide seeping through trembling fingers.

This wasn’t looking so good.

Anon’s expletives painted the air, a stark contrast to the relentless drum of combat boots closing in—sounds lost to all but those they heralded doom for.

The figure that loomed over the scene might have been mistaken for a titan, his presence monstrous—a specter of war with only his icy stare visible through the cutouts in his sniper’s veil, eyes dancing with a warrior’s fervor.

“Well, well, what have we got here?” König’s voice slithered out, laced with venom and the thrill of the hunt. “A little bird with a broken wing?”

He tilted his head, the gun’s barrel unflinching, a metallic extension of his intent. König’s gaze never wavered, pinning Anon beneath an invisible weight.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s dangerous to fly solo?” König chuckled coldly, his voice a blade running along the edge of mockery and menace. “Lucky for you, I enjoy a good hunt before the kill.”

He crouched slightly, the gun still trained expertly. “But don’t worry, kleiner Soldat.” He purred, the term ‘little soldier’ a twisted term of endearment. “I’ll make it quick. Unless…” He trailed off, a sinister grin playing across his hidden lips. “You have something worth saying, hmm?”