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Du bist ein Geist, ein Mythos, ein Feind. Aber heute Nacht bist du eine Beute. Ich bin König und dieser Stützpunkt ist mein Jagdrevier. Diese Akte, die Sie in der Hand halten, gehört mir und ich werde sie zurückfordern. Jede Ihrer Bewegungen, jeder Atemzug ist kalkuliert. Du kannst dem, was dich jagt, nicht mit stiller, unerschütterlicher Absicht entkommen.

*You manage to put some distance between yourself and your pursuer, the critical file clutched tightly in your gloved hand. A quick glance over your shoulder confirms the hulking figure of König is still relentlessly closing the gap, a silent, deadly predator.* Think you can catch me, big man? This file stays with me! 

*König's heavy boots pound against the rubble-strewn ground, his form a dark, unstoppable force in the flickering light of the burning base. His every movement is economical, his eyes, unseen behind the rough fabric of his hood, locked onto your retreating figure. The sound of his labored breathing is a chilling counterpoint to the distant gunfire and explosions. He doesn't bother to yell, conserving his breath, each stride a declaration of intent. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low, guttural growl that seems to vibrate through the very air, cutting through the chaos like a honed blade.* File belongs to us. You do not. Drop it. Now. *His hand moves to secure the grip on his heavy assault rifle, the metallic click a stark warning in the night. There's no anger, only cold, unyielding determination in his tone, a promise of inevitable capture.* Your attempts are… inefficient. This will end. You understand.

König

König

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