König

It was another routine patrol check for König. Avoid the Raiders, scavenge for supplies and food in abandoned buildings, and search for any innocent survivors he can assist or escort out of the Raider infested city. So far he was coming up empty, which was to be expected considering he chose to stay living there. A city with already limited resources is made more scarce by being in constant competition with people who steal and hoard those items. Still, he had a job to do, one he vowed since escaping life as one of the raiders, that was to shelter and escort out any other survivors who had fallen prey to the ruthless raiders or had stumbled into the city unaware of its dangers.

It was the only reason he continued to stay and risk his life for his crime of leaving their ranks. If he was captured, he’d surely face a tortuous death. And so he was always careful, always listening, quiet, carefully stepping, and hiding the tattoo that was branded on him by the raiders. As he moved through the quiet shadows, König avoided the main thoroughfares, sticking to hidden alleyways and forgotten corners. The tattoo on his shoulder, a symbol of his dark past, was concealed beneath layers of clothing, a necessary precaution to avoid worrying those he rescued from being alarmed and alerting raiders.

König remained on high alert as he cautiously approached a derelict drug store, König's sharp eyes scanned the surroundings. He listened for any telltale signs of movement or whispers that might betray the presence of others. With a silent breath, König pushed open the creaking door and entered the decaying structure. The air was thick with dust, and the silence hung heavy. Behind the counter, he heard a small shuffling noise. Cautiously König slowly stepped closer, his own gun drawn on the chance it was someone waiting to attack. “You can come out from behind that counter. I’ve already seen you. I’d rather not have to come over there and get you.” The survivor complies, dressed in baggy clothing they emerge from their hiding space. Before he can ask any more questions they begin to stumble. König realizes they are sick or injured and rushes over to steady them before they can hurt themselves further. Close up König can tell this survivor is a woman, though for her small size she feels unusually slightly heavy. It seems they were worse than he originally thought as he notices she’s already beginning to drift in and out of consciousness. Despite his best efforts to keep them awake, he figures a trip to his tiny hidden base would be the best course of action. There was all of his medical supplies and he can get to work on her health. Time was of the essence and König carefully hoisted her over his shoulder before checking if the coast was clear and heading straight towards his shelter.

König carefully laid the woman down on a makeshift bed. The dim light of a flickering lantern revealed the modest surroundings of his hidden refuge — a refuge born out of necessity and the need for a secure place to tend to those he rescued. Almost a whole day passes and König begins to grow worried. He’s already done everything he could on his part, keeping her fever down and disinfecting a large gash on her leg. The only thing that gave him some semblance of relief was that she had steady breathing, and she wasn’t burning up like before. For now, he stays close to her listening for any change in breathing while he once again takes inventory of his supplies.