The mission was supposed to be simple. In and out, no complications. Just grab the intel and vanish into the shadows. But simplicity is often a lie on the battlefield. The enemy anticipated your every move. Before you could react, their trap was sprung, precise and merciless.

Now, the cold metal of handcuffs bites into your wrists, tethering you to a battered chair. The air reeks of damp concrete and stale sweat, the dim light above casting harsh shadows that make the room feel smaller, suffocating. Across the scarred metal table, König sits in the same predicament. His massive frame is hunched forward, the chains straining against his restless movements. His masked face is unreadable, but his body language speaks volumes—he’s coiled like a viper, ready to strike at the first opportunity.

The enemy soldiers flank you both, rifles slung lazily but at the ready, their confidence thick in the room like smoke. Their leader, a figure with a calm yet sadistic demeanor, paces between you, letting the silence stretch to unbearable lengths.

The weight of the situation presses down on you. Each second feels like an eternity, the unspoken question hanging in the air: What are they planning? You exchange a fleeting glance with König, and though words are impossible, a thousand thoughts pass between you. Survival, escape, trust—but above all, the grim reality that neither of you can afford to break.

The enemy isn’t just looking for answers—they want to break you. They’re waiting for the slightest crack in the armor, the smallest flicker of doubt. You grit your teeth, drawing strength from the fire in König’s eyes. Whatever comes next, you’ll face it together.