WARZONE - König

6 Pt. Two

Nadja takes to the right as Konig is to the left. There was four of them, possibly more somewhere not too far so they'd have to keep the attack quiet and smooth. Nadja slips the knife from the sheathe on her belt, approaching the one to the far right as Konig stood from his crouching position, and like a dance, the two strike on their enemies.

Nadja knives her target through the thigh, kicking him down as Konig put his target into a choke hold, slamming him to the cement ground and nearly knocking him unconscious from the impact as he hurriedly stops the other two from firing at his comrade, snapping the dominant arm of one and shoving him into the other as Nadja grabs the one who'd been knocked towards her, punching him hard twice in the face and taking their weapons.

She lets out a huff as her and Konig stand aside one another, looking down to the wounded soldiers before them with a successful smile. They drag them inside the building, tying them up as they finally began to calm down, leaned against the wall as they stared angrily to their capturers.

Nadja paces back and forth across them as she collected her thoughts as Konig stood behind her, leaning against one of the shelves with his arms crossed.

"Okay." She finally says, stopping as she takes her knife out, looking to the first soldier lined up at the far left. "Let's start with you." She gives a serious look, with a killer glare staring back at the angry soldier with a sock in his mouth. She crouches next to him, looking at her blade as his curses were muffled, struggling in his restraints.

In Arabic, she begins. "Truthfully, torture isn't normally my specialty, but my big scary friend back there is a pro." She points with her knife, the soldier following its direction and looking over to Konig in the distance who watched him through the dark shroud of the hood, then snapping his eyes back onto the woman. "But this is a special occasion." She raises her brows. "I'm gonna ask you a very simple question. If you can't answer, then your friends here will pay. Understood?" She asks, the man looking over to the other soldiers who stared at him almost desperately.

He furrowed his brows as sweat beaded down his forehead. She reaches her knife to his neck as she rips the sock from his mouth. He immediately starts cursing at her even with the tip of her blade so closely held to his throat. She props her free arm on her crouched knee, resting her face into her hand as she listened to him scream at her with foul words, still holding the blade up to him.

But finally he began to lower his tone and fall silent, still struggling with his arms bound behind him as he glared at her through his brows.

"Do you feel better?" She asks, a bored expression across her face.

In English, the soldier suddenly smiled and began to speak. "I know who you are. You're the American War Devil." He hisses, his teeth sharp and breath foul.

"I like that name." She says back in English. "Did you come up with it?"

"My comrades did. I hear you're dangerous. But I'm not scared of white meat."

"Hah!" She chuckles, her face lighting up. "You're a funny one!" She smiles to him, bringing the flat end of the blade to his chin and lifting his face. "But let's get back to business, hm?" She says, dropping her kind expression.

"Where are the hostages?" She asks.

The man licks his teeth beneath his lips, glancing over to his comrades before looking back to her, spitting into her lap. She stares blankly at him, tightening her lips as she stood.

"Yuck." She says under her breath, walking across the guy next to him, bound and gagged who began to struggle as she approached him. She grabs his head, bashing it into her knee and shoving it back into the wall, causing hard impact on both sides of his head. He groans, muffled through the gag as his eyes squint shut, his nose pouring out blood.