The Yandere Catalogue

(König) Dancing with the wolf

Dancing with the Wolf.

Yandere König.

Prologue. Floating particles.

The low hum of the ship lulled you to a state of drowsiness. It was an uncomfortable temperature aboard, not to mention the lingering sense of dread. It hung over you like a cloud, chiding you about your first mission.

(Eye shape/ed) irises flitted about the low lit room, observing each member of the KorTac task force. Each one looked so calm and so collected. So professional. Could they be afraid as well? You could only wonder as you took notice of a dust particle floating near your folded legs.

Fixated on such a mundane thing, you wondered if the particle felt fear as well. Be it fear of yourself or the impending fear of being forgotten. Abandonment at its finest. No one ever really thought about dust particles as being a person. As important as human life.

You felt like an outsider in a group of insiders, only another body bound for the grave. Sure, you had intimate connections to people in your life but, it was only for a short while. These bonds would mean nothing to a world full of problems.

You wondered about your coworkers inside the plane. Did they feel the sense of dread like you did? Just how many missions had each person been on? How many bodies were sent in bags from your group?

You took the spare time to observe the multiple figures inside the room. Almost all of them had the usual tactical gear needed for a mission such as this. Strong bodies and cladded in green; it would be difficult to see these warriors coming.

Looking at the last figure in the room, you took note of the sniper’s hood. Despite not knowing what he was called by, you had heard of his many successful missions. And failures.

You couldn't help but bring yourself to wonder how such a skilled marksman could fail. But, then again, due to his tall stature, the insertion specialist could never be a sniper. Pity. You felt sympathy for such a predicament.

A cold glance from the stranger was enough for you to snap out of your thoughts. Staring was often seen as rude. Guilt buzzed in your stomach, mind swarming with thoughts of voicing an apology.

No, not a good idea. That would only make the situation even more awkward. So to speak. Leaning your head against an uncomfortable beam, you closed your eyes and listened to the low humming of the aircraft.

The spot you had chosen to sit in was small, barely fitting your frame. It was cramped and corned, a claustrophobic’s nightmare. But, anything was better than sitting next to a bunch of strangers.

With efficacious thoughts running in your mind, you tried to relax. The low hum, the scent of sweat and the warm air.

What a good start to the morning.

Chapter One. Metallic blood.

You were already wide awake by the time the aircraft reached its destination. Startled awake by the hooded man in question. He merely tapped you on the shoulder. That had been enough to shoot you out of your loose sleep. 

The hooded man stumbled back in surprise, eyes widened. His hand shot up, almost to grab at his heart. But, he quickly shot it down; perhaps self conscious about appearing "weak."

You stood up awkwardly, looking up at the male. Glaciers found in the Antarctic seemed to swirl about inside, with captivating beauty. The sniper's hood provided darkness over them, almost haunting.

The stranger quirked his head to the right, signalling for you to group up with the others. He followed behind you, frame hunched forward. You felt..(I'll leave it to you, dear reader).