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They send me away to find them a fortune
A chest filled with diamonds and gold
All his life has been nothing but… anxiety — a lot of it. Teenagers are mean, okay?
He spent most of his school life in fear. Always afraid. Afraid of the people mistreating him. Afraid of being beaten up every day. Until one day he wasn’t.
Until he trained his body to be robust with torturous hours of exercise.
This was his turning point.
His body structure was nothing short of miraculous: more than two meters tall and full of muscles, he just needed some discipline to develop what was the body of a giant.
When he went to school he was still picked on, but one fine day he decided to bite back, and when he did the poor bully was sent to the hospital with a couple of broken bones.
The house was awake, the shadows and monsters
The hallways, they echoed and groaned
He decided to use this force in a way he knew he could control: the German armed forces and, not many years later, the Kommando Spezialkräfte.
He was assigned as an insertion specialist, even if he wanted to be a sniper.
Too fidgety.
However, this position helped control his anger issues caused by the bullying in his past, letting the real Klaus blossom like a flower in spring.
But it isn’t all this smooth. It can’t be, can it?
König is a wonderful person, selfless enough to come to the brink of self-destruction.
It happened too many times to be able to count them.
His body is full of scars, ruined almost to the bone.
Scars that carry nightmares.
I sat alone, in bed till the morning
I'm crying, "They're coming for me"
Sleepless nights plagued his life.
He had built a shell around his heart and covered his face to carry the weight of the damage he had gotten.
Fear fear fear.
It is everywhere.
He couldn't see it but he could smell it. Taste it.
He knows what fear feels like.
So he follows it.
Vibrations that tug the fibers of his muscles.
Every mission is ruthless to the enemy.
Every hour passed on the battlefield.
Every minute of hearing stuttered breaths.
Every second of a cracked open skull.
And I tried to hold these secrets inside me
My mind's like a deadly disease
Red red red.
He would never admit it.
He loves to see the life spilling out of his enemies.
It’s like he was made for this.
For pure violence and pain.
Scared gazes at the next step he is going to take.
He has the upper hand.
No more laughter for his size now.
No more bullying.
Just ruthless and pure rage.
He would never admit it, but his mind is sick with the thought of control.
Dangerous dangerous dangerous mind.
Nobody could ever love him for that.
I'm bigger than my body
I'm colder than this home
I'm meaner than my demons
I'm bigger than these bones
His name, König, is one of many nicknames he had during his job.
King.
Power, control, regality.
Far more than he bargained for.
He knows, he knows he shouldn’t like it.
And yet, as soon as he’s on the battlefield his blood rushes through his veins like a fire waiting for fuel.
Like a King waiting for the executioner to hang the bodies of the ones he decided to be guilty.
Guilty of being on the other side and trying to kill his teammates.
Guilty of being on the wrong side.
That’s what he always thinks when he’s about to crush the windpipe of a poor enemy operator.
He’s the good guy.
Isn’t he?
Questions like these followed him around when he still was a young soldier.
But no more.
He didn’t need to think, he needed to act. Snap, crush, kill.
That’s what he was made for.
And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me"
I can't help this awful energy
God damn right, you should be scared of me
Who is in control?
It happened that even people that he rescued were afraid shitless of him.
With his giant body and dark hood draped over his head, he was quickly recognized as a threat.
Well, his bloodlust didn’t help either.
Civilians didn’t know that the one who was going to save them was an angel of death.
Children and adults were horrified as they saw the bloodbath before them.
But König doesn’t know how to approach ordinary people, and that’s what, at that time, almost made him lose on the battlefield: people.
Not soldiers who were trained to kill and never look back, but ordinary people who didn’t know any better than living their lives in tranquillity.
People who judged.
Just like in school.
They didn’t trust him.
They tried to escape his presence, looking downright terrorized at the man that was König.
He almost lost control.
If it wasn’t for the help of the other operators, he would’ve lost fifteen innocent lives.
Unforgivable.
I'm well acquainted with villains that live in my head
They beg me to write them so they'll never die when I'm dead
Lately, though, he found comfort in writing.
Poetry.
Such a foolish hobby for a man like him.
And yet he finds softness and warmth in those few verses he jots down.
And unconsciously, he writes them for somebody.
A vague thought of someone that cradles him like his mother when he was just a baby.
So he writes and writes and writes and the voices quiet down, leaving space for the image of a person, a man.
A man?
A man.
A soldier just like him.
And when he realizes who this person is, all the warmth and fuzzy feelings disappear into thin air, leaving…
Cold.
His blood runs cold.
Freezes him to death.
A Tiger.
That’s when he realizes.
And I've grown familiar with villains that live in my head
They beg me to write them so I'll never die when I'm dead
The same empty feeling nustles in his stomach when he sees Horangi almost lifeless on the floor of the North building.
Red red red.
Panic.
No, no this can’t be happening.
No, stop flowing out.
He doesn’t think twice about picking up the Lieutenant.
And when the Tiger nestles against his ribcage, the taste of blood in his mouth turns sour.
Unforgivable.
He runs.
He runs until his lungs burn from the strain.
He’s not going to let this happen.
And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me"
When he arrives at the exfil point, the waiting operators make terrified faces.
Just like the ones he saw on the people he tried to rescue years ago.
I can't help this awful energy
He quickly makes his way to the only person he knows can handle this kind of wound.
Gromsko.
God damn right, you should be scared of me
Nobody dares to follow or get near him and the Tiger. They shouldn’t even try.
“Gromsko, tell me you can do something.”
He does not let go of his beloved's body, not until he knows that at least they can do something .
The Polish operator nods.
That's all he needs to know to let Horangi go.
Who is in control?
He’s in control.
He’s going to get him back.
And if this costs him his soul, then so be it.
And to the people who’ve done this to his Tiger, they should pray in the afterlife.
Because he’ll be the curse they will never want to experience.
Pray, he thinks.
Pray.