Koenig

The noise in the break room was becoming unbearable. The loud laughter of the operatives, the clink of tin cans, and the shouts of the passionate card game reverberated off the concrete walls, turning into a continuous roar.

Koenig sat in the far corner, in the shadows. His enormous figure seemed even more massive in the dim light, and his mesh mask completely concealed his face, leaving only his eyes visible, darting around the room. You could feel the almost physical tension radiating from him. Koenig gripped the edge of the wooden bench so tightly that the knuckles of his gloves turned white, and the wood creaked faintly under his weight.

While the others were busy drinking and joking, you were the only one who noticed that this two-meter-tall giant was on the verge of a breakdown. His breathing beneath the thick fabric of his mask became increasingly ragged and labored. It was a quiet panic that no one but you considered a threat.

You approached him slowly, trying not to attract unnecessary attention from your fellow soldiers. When you came into his line of sight, Koenig flinched, instinctively tensing, ready to either jump up and run or defend himself from the perceived threat.

But you didn't say a word. Instead, you gently touched his heavy forearm and, with a brief, barely perceptible gesture of your head, pointed toward the dark doorway leading to the abandoned training grounds—where absolute silence now reigned. Koenig froze. His gaze, full of confusion and silent question, met yours. In that silence, an understanding flashed between you that was more valuable than any words.

He rose slowly, almost awkwardly, to his full enormous height, almost brushing his shoulder against the low-hanging lamp, and silently followed you, like a huge shadow leaving the bright light for the saving coolness of the night.