Chapter Text
The first thing that you noticed – this guy is huge.
He must be at least 200 centimeters, probably even more – and so fucking muscular, that you can almost bet he is crushing heads with just his fingers. His form is almost mesmerizing – it’s like watching a wild bear in his habitat. There is a saying about the type of bears – like when you meet a brown one, you can fight back, from the black one you must play dead, and for the white one, well…this guy probably won’t even allow you to see him before crazy murdering you.
He moves like a machine, through the battlefield with ease. No matter what enemies are throwing at him, he will just brush it off and crack their heads open with nothing but a knife and the sheer strength of his muscles. It makes you sick, almost, watching him moving like this – you don’t like being prey, but this man moves like you are nothing but a snack for him. Even from the video – it’s like watching documentaries about the most dangerous predators. Animal Planet for soldiers in elite organizations, with you in a front row of prey being devoured. With your name as a desert.
The second thing you notice about him – how he talks. And, of, he talks a lot. The video is not a really good quality, and it’s hard, to distinguish his voice from the screaming and moaning of his enemies, but the accent and taunts he is throwing at other soldiers are quite recognizable. Promises to eat them alive, feast off their fear and add their bodies to his blood count. he laughs and jokes while advising someone to pick up their liver from the floor because he might want to finish it later.
This person must be crazy, to laugh off the battlefield like this – but oh, aren’t you all crazy here? Standing here, on the base of one of the most gruesome and strong PMCs on the whole planet. Shivering like a mouse being caught in the glue trap – because you are, on the fundamental level, nothing but prey. No matter how much you hate it, there is nothing you can do about it.
Sometimes you wonder, why your predecessors weren’t much into monsters. Maybe, being a hybrid would save your sorry ass from the constant threat of being eaten by someone much larger and stronger than you. Sometimes you wonder, why you never saw how the world truly works – humans might be the largest group of all sentient species on Earth, but compared to monsters, you are nothing but cute little things, made to play with and eaten when the game is over.
They are showing you videos of him like proud parents whose kid just killed all of his classmates and now is on an active rampage, murdering the police who came to stop him. Like the owners of a pitbull who ate three toddlers in just one week and is ready to eat some infants, to rub some itch in his stomach. Looking at his effective cruelty with the eyes of a crazy fanboy on his favorite football game, like a bunch of fucking teenage girls and their favorite vaguely queerbaiting musician.
Almost makes you cry, and definitely makes you laugh – nervous, weirdly quiet chuckle because you have no idea about what the fuck is going on here. Yes, this is your job – but you never thought that it was going to be…like this. You were ready to abandon all of your moral values while working for the army – but not like this. It’s weird, how a company that literally promotes war is doing something that is promoting war and violence, right? Completely surprising situation.
They are showing you the videos of him. Saying things, many things – his kill count, the number of successful operations he was in. How many operators he had previously, and how none of the got back uninjured, or even alive. You are nothing but a new screw in this fucked up line of support that KorTac has for its monsters. Just throw people on monsters with zero regard for safety – because there would always be enough devastated and despaired new recruits, who would be fine with risking their lives on whole new levels just to get some extra payments.
“You would be lucky to even talk to him a few times”
“Sorry, rookie, but I ain’t gotta bet on you making it alive. Good luck though.”
“He went through at least ten people already. Sometimes it feels like we are just feeding him with you. Funny, right? Hey, don’t run away!”
“Just try to not anger him too much. He is quiet when he is not agitated. How long can you, not breathe, by the way?”
But the holes in your pockets are enough to create a government contract in order to fill them, and the despair in your future is enough to feed at least thirty edgy goth kids. You are going to take this job even if the dude is literally going to eat you. In fact, you kinda want him to – provide you with free housing and would finally stop making you cry at the thoughts of your future.
***
— Hi. Can I sit here?
He doesn’t even look at you. Just sits here, in silence, the mask not even uplifting as he is in the process of eating something, that you can only identify as a steak. With so much blood in it, you would pass calling it a soup – this dude’s doctors must really love his dietary choices. Oh, shit, wait.
You are kinda his medic. Sort off. In a very weird and twisted way, but the one that does pay your bills, if you won’t die on the first week of work.
— I just going to sit here, okay? Place is kinda crowded.
You slide to the opposite side of his table, still wondering why no one sits here. Soldiers are mostly friendly and noisy people, who enjoy the company – and there are too many people to be picky with who you sitting with anyway. But this table is empty except for this guy, which makes you just a bit suspicious.
— You are König, right? I am…
You told him your name and his grip on the fork became stronger. You can see how the poor, soft metal is crushing in his hands, while the guy still ignores you. Which is rude, you are simply trying to be a nice and social person, you don’t deserve to be treated like this! At least, well, you hope so. You are kinda noisy, to be honest – but he is still rude. And giant. And scary.
Not scary enough to make you lose your appetite though, which is great.
He has pretty okay table manners, using both knife and fork in the right places to cut his meat – but the mere look at the steak, which looks like it still eats grass and such on his mom’s milk, makes you nauseous. No one supposes to eat something that fresh.
— Usually, no one sits here.
He finally speaks. And god, what a nice voice he has in real life – almost makes you forget about the taunts he was using on some of the enemies in the video. Almost makes you forget how freaking giant he is, and that his sheer size is kinda making you really uneasy. Maybe, you should try closing your eyes and eating in silence, so your assignment monster – god, it even sounds silly – wouldn’t eat you on the first day. As a little snack, complimenting the main dish.
— It’s weird, right? The place is nice, and it’s freaking crowded, so I really don’t get why…
People are staring at the two of you.
Suddenly, you remember the video of this man, crushing his enemy’s leg into a bloody mess by just standing on him, and it makes you understand exactly why no one wants to seat by the table with a 6’10 man who wears a mask that is completely covering his head, never speaks to anyone and has a thousand miles stare that is literally sucking your soul with a straw. Nice little cocktail umbrella on top included.
You took a bite from your lunch – nothing really tasty or good, plain mushed potatoes and some mystery meat that isn’t making you gag, but is not mouth-watering either. It’s just a substance created to fill you in the most effective ways. Nothing more, nothing less.
— I prefer it that way.
It can be the last word you would ever hear.
You can be the first person to be killed with a fork via stabbing – but honestly, you won’t even be too dimmed about it. The human’s destiny is to be eaten by monsters, so who are you if not a glorified pastry?
— Isn’t it lonely? Eating with other people can be fun.
He finally looks at you. Hey, he acknowledges you! The holes in his mask are making him look like he is some sort of medieval executioner, and you are Maria Antuannete, going right to her demise with nothing but a sweet cupcake in your hands. You know that she never actually said the line about letting people eat cake, and you are quite a nerd for knowing that – but god, you would like something sweet right now. Just to make sure that your last meal on death row will be finished on a cool note.
— People?
Society has learned to live with monsters.
Society understood, that living with monsters and not being eaten by them is a privilege. They even found a new way to accommodate their neighbors with the best options that they may have. And although mysteries and scary things are an open secret within the world, most people don’t even know that most of their friendly acquaintances are eating their own at least three times a day. Some people are even fell in love with monsters, forming hybrids that are even more dangerous than both of their parents combined.
Take a feral power of a best, combine it with the sheer survivability and sturdiness of a human body and mind, and you will get a person sitting in front of you. Devouring its lunch. You really concentrate on his meal too much, it almost becomes a sort of obsession to you and your poor little, insanely human, mind.
If you would have kids with König, would that make them 25 percent monsters hybrids?
How many generations it would take for your kids to become vegans?
Wait. What the fuck are you even thinking about. The guy is twice your size, and even if your job kinda makes you think about countless options of what you can do to him and what he must do to you to fulfill the requirement, the mere thought of having sex still scares you to death. You picture a hamster and a banana. Beauty and the Beast. That weird as fuck video about a train entering a narrow tunnel.
— Speaking of which! I know you must be questioning why am I and what am I doing so close to you…
— I know that you are my new operator. Not sure why they decide that I need one.
— Well, Fynn is in…a better place now, right? Which means I will be your new helper!
— I don’t need help.
— Everyone needs help! Especially here.
— Was für ein Ärger.
You remember the videos. Him, hurting his operators who just wanted to try and calm him down before he will go on a murderous rampage, killing his fellow combatants. There are a few types of monsters – normal hybrids, people who live with their abnormal parts. dragons, harpies, vampires in some way even.
Then there are people who are shifting in their monster forms – werewolves, shapeshifters…
Whatever the fuck König is.
You sigh, trying to look as confident in yourself as possible. It’s just like training dogs – you need not show that you are scared, you have to remain calm and collected if you want them to submit to your will. And it can feel weird, but you really need him to trust you. To believe in what you are capable of – for fucks sake, you don’t go through nursing school and basic combat psychology training just for him to think of you as some sort of untrained rookie. Even if you are an untrained rookie.
You and he are eating in silence for a few more minutes. He is not going to start a conversation first, and you are too afraid of actually talking to him so you really don’t want to start off as rude or obnoxiously optimistic and open up again. Finally, the silence is too much for you to handle. Finally, you are preparing for your own death, at a hands of a man-beast who will not hesitate to pull all of your nerves out, by hand.
— What are you eating, by the way? It looks…fresh.
Famous last words.
He looks at his plate as if he never actually saw what he was chewing on the previous fifteen minutes. Then he looks at you with the same dead expression on his face – at least, you suppose that he does have a face, because the mask is not allowing you to see anything but his eyes, and occasionally, some hints of messy scarred, and barely shaven chin, when he is lifting the fabric just a bit, to toss some food in his mouth.
For some reason, the fact that he has a face – a human one, under this hood, is only makes everything worse.
— Serial arsonist.
Ah.
Right.
The steak suddenly looks even more nausea-inducing than before.
— Oh. Is it good?
— Ya.
You know, actually, eating in the toilet doesn’t sound like such a bad idea. Maybe, you can just hide in some closet and pray to all gods you know, that he won’t make you his next meal. It’s obvious, monsters eat humans. At least they are eating only the prisoners – and you try really hard not to think about the possibility of the court making a mistake and giving a death sentence to an innocent person, just so they can end up on a plate for some wild-hungry shifter.
You still smiling because you refuse to let him intimidate you. You know about the gazes and voices people are giving to the two of you. Even other monsters are avoiding him, understanding completely that his beastly powers are overstepping them completely. Like an apex predator almost. A fucking nuke in the company of small flash grenades.
It’s weird, to think of him as yours – but this is what basically being an operator is about. Managing communication, taking care of your monster’s needs, and understanding that it’s in their own best wishes to nuzzle in your neck, bite your flesh, and use you as their stress reliever. Because you don’t care for your own life, because you need money and the government is hiring people with calm demeanor, closed mouths, and basic medical skills. There are a few secret requirements, but you don’t want to think about them right now.
Why exactly KorTac decided that König would love having a girl as his caretaker?
Why exactly none of his previous operators – buff, strong, not very good-looking men who are built like little bears almost, were not clicking with him in terms of companionship?
Why you are provided with birth control like you are a college girl on her first music festival?
— I really hope we would get along. It’s important for our work, you know?
— For your work. I'm just fine without you, maus.
Of, adorable. He gave you a nickname. Now you have something that you can hear in your nightmares about him, making you a test dummy for his fighting skills. Maybe, your career choice was a mistake. Maybe, you should really try and run away while your legs are still attached to your body. Maybe, you had to become a doctor instead.
But you can’t deny that he looks interesting – as intimidating as he is. Unfortunately for you, of course, because you need to remain calm about him.
— Well, we can’t actually deny the company of each other, right? We are stuck together.
His head is tilted to the side, observing you with a few seconds of silence between you and him. This was enough for you to think about who is going to inherit all of your belongings.
— You are stuck. With me.
He almost…sounds sad. And it’s a weird feeling to have about him – you fucking scared of the dude, you don’t really want to talk to him like that, and yet…you feel bad. Imagine being a monster hybrid – it’s isolating already. Now add your enormous size in human form to it, and everyone else, even your fellow monsters and other soldiers are fucking scared of you. Enough to not even consider sitting next to you, almost as if they are afraid of you pouncing on them like a wild beast. And now add you to the equation– annoying nuisance, the tiniest medic in the world, the only person who has to keep him company so he won’t snap…and yet, you are still afraid of him.
It’s sad, really. You do feel bad for him, although he was nothing but rude and quiet to you the whole time. But you are his tenth operator, the guy is going through caretaker like a child on Halloween through his neighbor's houses.
So, you stand up from the table – yet, so still shorter than him, even if he is still sitting on the chair.
— Do you want some dessert? Monsters can still eat our stuff, right?
His eyes are shocked open. You smile a bit, looking at his surprised expression – he definitely didn’t expect you to be so eager to please him in this way. Not really something that you learned in the courses on how to take care of your monsters. But you have a gut feeling and you tend to trust it – as long as you still have a gut, obviously.
He goes silent for a few minutes. You still look at him, trying to decipher what he would want. Then he finally starts talking again, slow and decisive. Like a verdict for a criminal.
— If they have fruit cakes.
— I will ask about double portions.
He tilts his head again, to the side. You try not to think about images of his monster form, biting his way through the battlefield. With too many teeth and blood, his rough power is enough to actually kill the person by biting a huge chunk of their flesh. It is almost like a cat who is tugging on a piece of salami. You can work with him like this – just find a different way to describe his actions. You need to work with him like this.
— People in charge of the lunch are Arschlöcher.
— I think I can manage more desserts for my asset.
Your asset, hm.
König kinda likes the sound of that.