My Strongest Weakness

Prologue

His heart thundered against his ribcage, feeling like it was about to burst from his chest.

Head pounding with adrenaline coursing through his veins, König could hardly breathe.

Maybe it was the person sitting on his chest trying to shove a knife into his throat.

"You fucker," the soldier seethes, slamming the palm of his hand into the hilt of the knife and inching the glinting silver blade closer, closer, closer. König gives a loud cry as his battered muscles gain enough energy to finally throw the person off, switching their positions with his deft hands swiping the knife and sinking it into the soldier's throat. Warm red spatters his veil, soaking into the old tattered green shirt and pooling around the ripped camo pants that hardly fit. He grabs the soldier' head in a blind flurry of panic, crashing their skull against the hard concrete once, twice, three times. . . He couldn't stop. Not until his own aching hands were slick from the blood, knuckles cracking against the concrete and cracking painfully to the point that even he knew his knuckles were split open. The veil clad mountain of flesh stills, slowly letting his hands rest on his tight pants and gazed at the hollow brown orbs which harbored such hatred only moments prior. He looks at his hands for a moment, dull silver eyes fixed on the shimmering red, shredded gloves coated in the sinful shade as his heart pounded in his chest.

He rose to his feet after a moment, and König gazed at the carnage laid out before him.

Bodies scattered the long hallway, some slumped against the blood soaked walls, others in their own pools of shimmering red, some laying over another deceased body. A few were almost unrecognizable. He looks to the last soldier he had killed, bits of skull and brain matter mixed with the blood and painting the once light grey cement in its morbid sheen.

Slowly, König walked down the hall, huffing and puffing as blood dripped from his body. He slips on the slick floor a few times, nearly tumbling to the ground as his aching body shrieked for him to sit down. He turns the corner, seeing the same amount of carnage laid out before him. His distant gaze fixed on the end of the hall, trudging back with a pained wince. His hands glided over the walls as his vision became ever so blurry, smearing his wet hand along the wall before rounding the corner and stopping when the familiar commanding voice of Colonel Williams ordered him to stand still. König froze, eyes clamped shut as he tried to calm his erratic heart rate. "Fuckin' animal," the Colonel miffs, snagging the hem of König's veil and yanking him down. "You ruined the entire floor," the Colonel grits out, teeth clamped around a half smoked cigarette as his gleaming emerald eyes narrow on König's dull silver ones.

"Well boys, let's get moving."

His veil was lifted, and the man flinches away as the Colonel rattles a chain in his free hand, a dull metal collar glinting in the low light of the hall. A clasp fastens around the loop on the collar, welded on carelessly with the jagged edges catching the man's pale skin. The Colonel tugs on the collar, and König clatters to the ground with a cry of pain, blood soaked knees making contact with the dust covered floor. His eyes watch the ground, watching blood continue to spread.

That was weird.

He was sure that the enemy soldiers were further back. How was it getting to where he and the Colonel were?

A harsh finger jabs into a hole of his pants, and König writhes as a white hot throb lanced across the appendage, running up his spine and flooding his brain. The Colonel clicks his tongue, and a cloud of smoke was blown in König's face as he squirmed under the harsh touch resting over the newly discovered wound. "Careless fucker," the Colonel crows, a grin spreading over the once harsh glare. "Private," he shouts, and a second pair of boots appears in König's faded vision. "Take it to the truck. We'll finish up in here." His collar was yanked on, and König rose to unsteady feet before getting yanked through a closed set of doors and towards a Jeep. He gets tossed in a cage, the chain fastened to his collar getting latched to a handle bolted to the ground before the door to the cage was slammed shut and the Private takes the seat furthest from him. König attempts to craw his legs to his chest, pressing a hand to his leg. His mind was slipping into a dark abyss, and it was growing increasingly difficult to stay awake.

What did he have to live for?

No one would miss him if he died.

His head rested against the cold metal, eyes drifting closed as König's chest rose and fell in rapid beats, brows knitted together as the pain dulled, eventually being a warm feeling that wrapped around marred skin and sucked him in to the deep dark abyss awaiting with open arms.