My Strongest Weakness

With misfortune brings death

Laying prone on the wet earth, König waited for the all clear from the lieutenant who was inching slowly towards the door. His blade was raised as the mask clad man inched forward in the torrent of rain, peaking into the window of a large building before ducking down and waving out towards the tall grass König, Sergeant Soap, and Sergeant Martinez were in. Martinez kicks König's calf, sending the slave to scurry forward and meet the lieutenant at the house, plastering its soaked back against the wall of the safe house and keeping its head ducked when the lieutenant fixes the slave with a glare. "Get in, move quickly. I'll be right behind ya. Got it?"

König gulps, roughly shaking its head. "Best just to let it at 'em with no backup. Fucker likes to play with its food." Feeling the hot stare of the frightening lieutenant perched next to the door, König tried and failed at staying in place and not cowering, its shoulders bunched to its ears and clutching the gun to its chest, unable to breathe. Its chest was swelling with a cold feeling, alarm bells firing off in König's head as the slave peered into the window just quick enough to see four men clad in full gear of the most up-to-date military equipment found. König's eyes bug out as the four disappear into the large safe house, crates of hidden items stored high up so all movement was concealed until the next row. The Sergeant wanted to send König in alone? It couldn't possibly do it. König wouldn't even get through the threshold of the massive base without getting shot a dozen times. Did Sergeant Martinez really trust the slave that much not to fuck up the entire reason the team was there? Was this another test for König? Or, was this another trick for König to receive discipline? "That's a no go Sergeant. This is a team operation. You follow my lead or don't follow at all. Clear?" Sergeant Martinez grins, but the shift in his posture immediately puts König on edge. The subtle shift of boots and the way the man faced König. It made the slave tense, feeling the frustration from its handler skyrocket with only a single order from the lieutenant. Slowly, lieutenant Ghost eased the door open, König sliding forward. Mud squished underneath worn boots, the rain pelting the four in the seeming unending downpour.

The chilly wind inside the warehouse envelopes König, sending sharp tremors through its body as the lieutenant eases open the door, nodding his head towards the opening and slowly but surely easing into the large compound. König slips behind cover with its MP5 pointed at the ground, peering behind the old oak desk König now found itself behind.

The compound smelled of rotten wood and gunpowder, a thick layer of dust coating everything within sight. Readable footprints were left on the ground among the dust, now leading into the walls of shipping containers scattered around the place. The silhouette of the lieutenant appears next to the awaiting doorway, reaching for the comm attached to the shoulder strap of his vest, head jerking towards the opening.

König's eyes flicked towards the opening into the massive building, heart jumping onto its throat. The lieutenant wants it to go into that massive area alone? Its gloved hands shook as the slave edged forward, plastering its back against the wall, death grip never relenting even the slightest. Just as the slave was about to round the corner, soft voices slowly grew closer. "Проклятье, эта работа надирает мне задницу. Как кто-то может зарабатывать этим на жизнь?" König nearly jumps into the ceiling, falling back against the wall as its worn out boots planted hard against cracked concrete, body wracked with fine tremors. Its chest hurt as König gasped for breath, eyes clamped shut.

"Тебе всего двадцать пять. Конечно, вы не чувствуете себя так плохо."

"У меня тело пятидесятилетнего Ивана! Мои колени больше не ломаются на шестьдесят градусов! Макаров заставляет меня бегать по этим гребаным миссиям, как собаку, а я не могу передохнуть! Я уже несколько лет не видел свою семью!" Clear anger in a deep voice made König nearly curl up on the ground, the familiar anger in Colonel Williams' voice ringing clear in its head and nearly paralyzing the slave. The voices stopped just in front of the door, growing quiet as they began to whisper. König flicks its gaze just high enough to see the lieutenant grasp at the blade connected to his plate carrier, fumbling dumbly at the handle of its own worn out knife before readying itself to lunge. A subtle nod from the lieutenant quieted König's nerves almost instantaneously, the thought of finally being used like it was trained to do, easing its nerves as the slave took a shuddering breath in. The slow count down on the lieutenant's fingers was like an adrenaline rush, heart pounding in its ears as the slave twitched.