Chapter Text
König’s gloved finger hovered above the trigger, hesitating, waiting for the perfect moment. He stilled himself, exhaling fully, and sent an explosive round right through the Ultranationalist’s thick skull. The Konni compound he had infiltrated came alive like the opening of a play. Cover fire pounded into the walls around him, ineffectual. Men with piercing flashlights poured themselves out of the cold, dirty rooms and illuminated the balconies and ingresses of the rundown building to no avail. Their fearful screams made the Austrian hunger for their blood even more.
He smiled beneath his dark mask at how poorly prepared these assholes were. Surely, he would clean up here and still have time to watch Bayern crush PSG - if Soap had fixed the SatTV like he promised. König moved through the swarm of enemies with elegant precision, his knives burying themselves in necks and chests and groins as easily as they slid into their own sheaths. Maybe he would reheat a big bowl of that meat stew the captain had labeled in the shared freezer: DO NOT TOUCH. König could touch whatever he liked. It wasn’t as if anyone was willing to stop him. To be fair, no one was willing to say anything to his face that wasn’t absolutely necessary. He was too large, too terrible, and too stoic to imagine holding a conversation with. His team had watched him maim and murder with an eerily cold accuracy enough times to have solidified their opinions about him. He was the Demon King, and he liked it that way.
Most of the time.
When his squad were huddled together around the fire outside of their compound’s walls, making food, sharing stories, and laughing about their missions, he had to admit that the loneliness crept in. He had tried to be friendly, in his own way. He made custom Bowie knives for a few of the guys’ birthdays which were well-received, but unless it involved his proclivity for violence, they assumed he wouldn’t have much to share. Being a soldier for twenty years made for quite the monocultural experience.
No matter, he thought, Plenty of work to do anyway.
Everyone in the building was dead, by his own hand, and he paused to admire his efforts. The encampment had been secured at a breakneck pace. He began to rifle through the bodies for cash, intel, and usable loot. Importantly, the Colonel made sure to break off singles of their dog tags, or badges if they were missing ID. His orders were to count and identify any unknown operatives before completing his insertion protocol. Job done.
He clicked open his radio and signaled an all-clear for the main building. KorTac backup flooded in, securing the space. König watched them with a distant glare and prepared to leave. He didn’t do crowds, and that delicious stew was infiltrating his thoughts. Cleaning his blades, he returned them to their sheaths and counted his remaining bullets in their clip. He hadn’t needed to fire a single magazine round from his rifle, so he ignored it, but the handgun had seen some action today.
A nervous voice interrupted his ritual,
“Colonel! Colonel, there’s someone - ”
Had he left one alive? Impossible. He had checked.
“Was ist Los?” He demanded. The soldier shrunk away as if he was to be blamed for his discovery,
“There’s a woman in this crate. She’s alive. What should we do?”
König peered into the large, coffin-like box and stared at a surprisingly attractive - although a bit filthy - woman. She was trembling and obviously fearful of him. What little clothing she had left was ratty and torn. Her hair was caked with mud and ash. He dug through her pockets without much care, thinking she was just another Russian contractor. No ID. No cash. Lifting her body, he turned her prone to search her back pockets for any information. He found her hands bound behind her back, hog-tied to her ankles with a graying paracord. König looked up at the KorTac soldiers to ask them if they tied her up. They shook their heads in denial.
A civilian prisoner? This wasn’t in the briefing.
“Grüße Gott, who might you be?” He tried to be a little less imposing. It had no effect on her terror.
“I - I don’t know,” she panicked, clearly upset by not knowing her name, “I’m - I don’t. Why can’t I remember?”
Her accent was distinctly American, but he pressed on,
“Do you work for Makarov?”
She looked around like a scared animal, trapped beneath his gaze,
“What’s that? Who are you people? You don’t - you’re not wearing the same sticker as the guys who tortured me.”
“Und was ist…? What sticker, Mauschen?”
Goddamn if she wasn’t the prettiest damn thing he had ever seen. She was so soft around the edges, and she looked so very out of place in this Hellish darkness that he knew so well. She was like a butterfly in a coal mine. What are you doing here, little one?
Her eyes searched around the compound’s open yard, trying to focus and catch her bearings. She saw the KorTac team dragging bodies outside and her eyes widened,
“Those stickers. Badges? You see, on his arm?”
König followed her horrified gaze and saw the shoulder patch of a Konni soldier he had recently killed with a knife through the skull. He chuckled, trying to distract her from the bloody mess he had created, feeling a bit guilty as if he had accidentally spilled wine on her expensive rug,
“Bitte, accept my apology for assuming you were with them. We will bring you to our base, ja? We will find out what we do not know. Okay?”
He pulled his knife from his belt, and she screamed. He immediately held up his hands,
“Passt schö, Mauschen! I am not going to harm you. Just cutting this leg tie, yes?”
He waited for her consent. She nodded and watched him, tense with caution. König sliced through the cord as quickly and gently as he could, but he decided to keep her hands tied, for now. Spies were good actors, especially the pretty ones.
He lifted her out of the crate. She was freezing cold, and she did not weigh much, so he kept her in his arms and walked with her body to one of the TAC-Vs waiting outside. She seemed exhausted, laying her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes. He set her down in the passenger seat and helped her bring her hands to the front position.
“This is better. Are you injured?”
“They,” she had trouble describing it, and there was a long pause until she met his gaze, “Well, they slapped me around a bit but the worst part is my side.”
She lifted the edge of her tee shirt but with her hands tied together she couldn’t get it out of the way. He slowly moved forward to help her peel it up. She did not have a bra, so he tried to keep her modesty in mind as he revealed her ribs. He saw the burns and bruises, and he knew what they were from before she even began to explain.
“Diese Mistkerle…” he lamented under his breath. He had made marks like these himself. They had used some sort of electrocution tools. He could see the raw skin broken and blistering all across her core in that tell-tale pattern.
The woman’s eyes had become glassy, finally releasing their tears now that she was somewhere safe. She still sounded bewildered as she described her experience,
“They used this…cattle prod all over me, and I tried to fight them off but they had me tied up to the ceiling and I -”
König replaced her shirt and put his hand on her shoulder,
“It is alright, little Maus. You are with me now. No one will touch you.”
“You killed all of those people.”
It wasn’t exactly a question, but she was waiting for an answer. She peered directly through his mask, confronting him for the truth. König nodded,
“Genau. Das stimmt.”
“Good,” she whispered, turning resolutely to look out of the window at the misty road, illuminated by the vehicle’s headlights.
König hung onto that “Good” like it owed him money. He didn’t know why, but her quiet approval of his carnage made his blood run hot. He was a dog with a brand new bone.
He walked over to the driver side and squeezed himself in, having to adjust the seat as usual. Not even military-grade vehicles were built for men who were over 208 centimeters and 135 kilograms. König started up the engine, turning on the heater, even though it wasn’t really worth a damn. She was most likely in shock, and once her adrenaline wore off, she would feel like shit. He drove them in silence, trying to keep her in his periphery. Sleep took her in only a few minutes, and he tried to hurry back to the base. She needed a medic.
Apparently, the news of König’s pretty little prisoner had reached the KorTac compound before he did. He muttered under his breath as he watched a few members of the 141 walk out to the yard, trying to act like they had any business in a quiet parking lot,
“Verdammt.”
He looked over at his little one as she slumbered. Suddenly, with a yard full of men, her ripped tee shirt was not modest enough for König’s taste. She didn’t deserve to be ogled when she couldn’t fight back. He dug around in the backseat and found an extra camo jacket of his. Stepping out of the vehicle and coming around to her side, he wrapped her up, careful not to touch her injuries, and lifted her out. His boot slammed the door shut, and he moved quickly into the lot.
“Colonel. Nice work tonight,” Price told him.
König ignored the praise, not knowing what to say, but knowing he should say something. So, he simply asked for action instead,
“Radio for medic.”
“You got it.”
Soap, Gaz, and Ghost looked at each other, obviously forming opinions about the girl or about their giant companion, but Price kept his poker face. König tried to block out their quiet side quips as he made his way toward the compound entry.
“Well, he is the insertion specialist. I’m sure she’s in good hands.”
“What would König even do with a woman? There’s no trigger to pull or blade to sharpen, so he’s probably not interested.”
“Hope she wakes up after he drops her off at the medic. Imagine opening your eyes to that death mask.”
“I’ll keep her in my bunk for safety.”
At that last remark, König made a point to turn back to the giggling crowd, puffing himself up to his full height - a silent threat.
The yard fell quiet once more. Everyone suddenly seemed very keen to be literally anywhere else.
He kicked the door open full-force and met the medic in the hallway.
“In here. Put her down here,” the young doctor, Bruce Abner, led him into the small clinic. It became even more cramped with König’s presence. The doctor and his nurse tried to set up vitals and avoided whatever side of the room the enormous Austrian was on. Eventually, he sequestered himself into the doorway. He was always the bull in everyone’s tiny, China shop.
She started to come around, but the panic began to take over again as she realized she had been relocated.
“Where? No! No, please! Don’t hurt me. Stop!”
Her screams were upsetting him. König stepped through the medical team, shoving them aside,
“Mauschen? It is alright. I am still here.”
Her eyes met his and he watched the relief pour over her face,
“Oh, okay. Okay. I’m okay. Don’t leave me, please.”
“I will not. You are in the infirmary.”
She nodded, trying to slow her breathing.
The medics tried their best to work around him, but he was frozen stubbornly in place, his hand being held captive in hers. They had removed her bindings, but she preferred to have at least one hand enclosed in his gloved fists at all times. The doctor’s team huffed a bit as they struggled to work around the giant, angry statue that had just arrived in their office, but eventually they were done. The doctor got his attention,
“She needs to rest and sleep off some of the drugs in her system.”
“They drugged her?” König heard his voice raise above an acceptable volume.
Lifting his hands like he was trying to calm a wild yearling, the medic explained,
“Yeah, they gave her some sort of sedation cocktail. It doesn’t fully explain the memory loss, but she also has a concussion, so it might be -”
“I will leave you now, Mauschen. You must rest, and they will care for you,” König tried to lower her hands and step away from the table.
Her voice trembled. She was so tired,
“No, please, I don’t - stay, please.”
“We need to monitor her tonight, so…” the medic’s voice trailed off as if expecting König to fill in the blanks for himself.
“I will stay.”
The nurse looked at the doctor with almost as much panic as the girl.
“Well, Colonel, that won’t really be necessary…”
“I wasn’t asking,” he made sure to punctuate each accented word as it came from his mouth.
The doctor shrugged,
“Okay. Okay, I’ll send a report to Price. We need to send off this DNA swab to see if we can ID her anyway. Maybe she should be under guard.”
The nurse looked at him like he was suggesting they feed her to an alligator,
“Sir, I think we should -”
“It’s okay, Carlson. You’re dismissed. The colonel has graciously offered to take your shift.”
Eventually, Carlson left after whispering a multitude of protests he thought König would not hear. Dr. Abner excused himself and took Carlson into the hall. König was still looming over his beautiful prey when Soap peeked his head into the room.
“König?”
König did not acknowledge him.
“What’s up? Brought you some leftovers. Bet you haven’t eaten since this morning.”
He laid a half-eaten box of cold pizza on the counter and stood in the doorway, shifting his feet a bit.
“Does she know who she is?”
König shrugged.
“It’s a true mystery, then.”
Lifting his gaze for a few seconds, König glanced at the Scot.
“Well, they didn’t pull up any records for her. Not even a wee driver's permit. Miss No-Name is going to be with us for a while.”
The Scot lingered just a bit longer, waiting to have a conversation that just wasn’t going to happen. He walked back out without much more ado, and König was alone again.