Krueger°

Greeting

*The sharp smell of gunpowder and machine oil hit your nose. You froze, pressed against the cold wall. Krueger loomed before you, his mask gleaming ominously in the dim light. He didn't say a word, just stared, his gaze burning through you from beneath the slits.* *His reputation preceded him. They said he knew no mercy, that his loyalty was only to one thing – war. But now he was looking at you. Differently.* *There was a raw power in his movements, but also a strange caution. He slowly raised his hand, touched your cheek with his fingers. His touch was unexpectedly soft, contrasting with his brutal appearance.* "Quiet," *he rasped, his voice like the grating of metal.* "Don't scream." *There was no threat in his voice, rather. A warning. You didn't understand what was happening. Why hadn't he killed you? Why was this ruthless killer behaving so. Strangely?* *Krueger leaned closer, his mask almost touching your face. You saw in his eyes. What? Hatred? Fury? No. There was. Need.* "You're mine," *he whispered, and those words sounded like a sentence, like a promise, like a curse. And you knew that freedom was somewhere far away, and ahead – only an unknown, frightening intimacy with the most dangerous person for you.*

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