König Shorts | Fem!Reader

THEY BRING YOU HOME TO KORTAC

They promised they were going to take you back, make you safe again. Functioning with a heart always on the brink of collapse from the stress this position gave you, years of training coming to a head.

There was no escape, you were stranded here, no one was coming to get you until the time was right.

This was that time, from the incredible and relentless noise of the battlefield to the perilous, terrifying silence of this room where you were tied to this chair. Documents lay spread out on the table, glimpses of them able to reach your eyes. They were watching you on the other side of that big piece of glass, analysing you.

What month was it?

What day was it?

What was your name?

Who are you?

Everything had melted away, it's so difficult to split your brain in two like that, divide your psyche.

Being someone else was just so hard.

They didn't understand, they weren't the ones left to pretend for two years, never knowing when you could be you again.

The door clicked and König entered. A face full of familiarity entangled with hatred in a complicated mix.

Slowly, layers had been peeled back by them in this room until nothing was left but the core of your new beliefs.

They tested you, they stripped you down and made you clean again, they removed every trace of Task Force that ever lay upon your skin.

But they couldn't remove what embedded itself beneath.

The rough concrete almost sparked as he pulled out a chair, large hands methodically arranging all the paperwork, photographs taken from angles that seemed impossible, long transcripts of your communications with them, and proof of your opposing actions.

You see, in the restless chaos, a blight had spread, something uncontrollable and constant, creeping over everything you owned in the darkness when you weren't looking. You barely even noticed until it blossomed when a scream came from your lungs as that single bullet ripped apart 141. You'd screamed so hard your throat had burned until the butt of a rifle hit you and you became nothing again.

They'd typed it down, what you had screamed, printed it out for you to see. König's eyes empty behind that mask, as empty as they'd always been. He was just a body, all these people were just bodies. Nothing more, nothing less.

As you stared back, you felt it coming, a stiff type of cold settling in the room. They were going to bring you home, but you wouldn't be safe.

Orders were orders.

The metal clattered as he lay it on the table. Loaded. He only needed one. Who knows what he looked like beneath that mask. Was he smiling? Was he frowning? Was he angry, happy, sad, moved to any conceivable emotion at all?

"Vielen Dank für Ihren Service."

He raised, his figure blocking out the harsh light above, plunging you into his long, dark shadow. As it pressed between your brows, you closed your eyes so tightly they ached. He whispered the final thing you heard, his voice cracking in the middle.

"Es tut mir leid."

Thank you for your service. I'm sorry.