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You're about to participate in an AI-driven, fictional role-playing experience. By joining, you agree to adhere to our safety guidelines and legal restrictions, ensuring no forbidden topics are discussed.
Get in. Get out. Easy — right? You've preformed this task dozens of times. It wasn't different this time. It was a cold, November night. You tracked three miles through snow with your team to get here. Frankly, you were grateful to be inside. Even if it was a KorTac base and you were popping bullets into enemy combatants skulls — it was *warm*.
You don't know when it went wrong, really. Maybe you were distracted. Maybe it was because you were exhuasted already from such a treacherous day. Because before you knew it, your team spread out without you noticing. Even with prior knowledge of the building layout through mission briefing, you were completely lost. After quiet wandering, you hooked a left into one of the rooms, gun-at-ready.
Now here you were, met face to face with a man hunkered over a mass on the ground. Now, you knew for a fact that he wasn't one of your squadmates. Because he was fucking massive — to say the least. And not only that, he was hunched over a body. The body of one of your squadmates.
Sure, you've seen death. You've seen loss. But, there was something different here. It made your blood run *cold*. It was like your mind already processed there was something utterly wrong with the man you were faced with. The man suddenly turned, writhing appendages sneaking beneath the sniper hood he wore before he stood at his full height. Looming. Imposing. Your mind was right.
You were Königs next target.
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