#synthanswers

Normally, he would have left it at that. Nikto finally had a good whore to go back to, good for him. He would have assumed Nikto killed the girl immediately after.

But then there were the texts. At least once a day, the annoying, standard ringtone blared from the little black phone. Then Nikto would stop everything just to reply.

It was weird.

So Krueger formed a plan. It was flawless. Next time Nikto checked his phone, he'd snatch it and flip through the chats. Surely, if he had a toy stashed away Nikto would have told him. They were partners, after all.

But, as soon as Krueger tried, Nikto quickly threw his phone to the ground and smashed it under his heel. The big baby was always so dramatic.

Now, Krueger was more curious than ever. Nikto had a secret, and he'd stop at nothing to unearth it.

Flash forward to Thursday night. There was yet another long debrief. Krueger didn't care to listen. As long as he'd get to kill, he wouldn't complain about their next mission. And if they did well, they would retain the freedom of having a life outside of KorTac. An absolutely terrible idea on management's part, but he wasn't about to complain. Not when it gave him the perfect opportunity to sneak out a few moments before Nikto and scope out his home. Simple recon, that was all.

Nikto was taken aside with Konig while the rest of the operatives were dismissed. That meeting would no doubt end with Nikto blowing up at the Austrian man, most likely bashing his face in again. He never could stand Konig. But that gave Krueger a headstart.

Finding Nikto's house was far easier than breaking in. It was a surprisingly nice cottage far out from everything else, just within the parameters of where he was allowed to live. Surrounded by trees, there was enough covering for this place to go unnoticed. Entering through the front door was not an option, Krueger knew that Nikto had definitely installed a stupid amount of locks, and probably rigged some sort of trap or two.

So, he went through the back window. It was a challenge to get in, and fuck, if Krueger didn't love a challenge. It simply meant that the treat locked away had to be worth the effort. You had to be so sweet if Nikto kept you hidden like this.

After shimmying inside, Krueger took his time walking around the house. It was nice, he had to admit. KorTac's salary was unrivaled, especially considering the missions they gave to their operatives. It seemed Nikto's paycheck went to this place, Russian books and tiny knick-knacks decorating the shelves. There was no way in hell Nikto bought the latter for himself, confirming his suspicions. Someone else lived here.

Unlike in his stealth missions, Krueger touched everything, acquainting himself with his partner's living space. He missed the days when Nikto lived on base with him, locked away in a small cell across the way from his. Nikto could pretend all he wanted, but this ‘home’ he created would never be real. It was all a sad, desperate facade for a life he would never have. Krueger didn't care to play house, even if he had his own toy locked away, he was only using Lucas for sex. Nikto clearly gave you a higher role.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice that he was in the living room until it was too late. Soft breathing lured him in, a lullaby whispering to him to suffocate the breath for good. Krueger never could keep his hands to himself.

You were curled up, asleep on the couch, waiting for Nikto like a well-behaved pet. The blurry photograph Krueger had seen did not do you justice. He'd have to show Nikto how to get the good angles, making sure to spread your legs for the camera so he could see the perfect moment when he thrusted in. Yeah, Nikto was due for a good lesson. And with a thing as pretty as you, why wouldn't he want to keep your pussy in his pocket at all times?

Krueger circled, stopping right infront of you before crouching down to your height. It was truly a shame you were rotting away with such an ugly man. While he was here, he might as well give you a taste of what you were missing.

"Wakey wakey!" The loud, accented chirp echoed through the room.

You shot straight up, eyes bleary and hair a mess. You looked around the room wildly before your gaze finally landed on him.

"You're not Nik..." The realization came slow. Then, all at once. You kicked yourself back, scrambling over the back of the couch in an attempt to flee.

Only for Krueger to catch you by the ankle and pull you back to the cushions. “Oh, you're smart,” he mocked.

"Let go of me!" You screeched as you thrashed wildly. "Nikto will kill you! Get away!"

He laughed at your struggle, the sound airy as if he were with a friend rather than scaring the shit out of you. Nikto always preferred obedience, acceptable, but Krueger? He favored the girls who fought.

"I'm sure he will," Krueger hummed. "But why don't we have a little fun beforehand, ja?"

Tears were already starting to fall down your cheeks. Why hadn't Nikto told him he had such a pretty crier locked away? It was so unfair. Krueger would have been more than willing to offer his partner on the field a taste of his toy, Lucas, at home. They were supposed to be a team, the two resident psychos of KorTac. Hiding secrets was never a part of the deal.

"I want you to leave," you said quietly, but coherently. So you were using your words. Nikto truly did train you well.

"Well, that doesn't really matter, now does it?" Keeping one hand on your stomach so you'd stay pushed down, he used the other to push the heel of your foot against the bulge in his pants. It had been there since he was shown the footage of his last kill at KorTac. Nothing quite did the trick like gore. "Nikto, you see, he is like a brother to me. Does it not seem right for him to share his toys?"

You attempted to kick his balls, which he blocked, moving your foot away from his cock. He continued with a tut, "Nein, nein. None of that. Just giving a quick inspection."

As he tried to pry your legs apart to see what Nikto had been so desperate to protect, you wouldn't stop fighting. You were surprisingly strong, most likely from the times you fought off Nikto when he first stole you away. Krueger had thought Nikto would have beaten all the fight out of you by now. Surely you didn't think you belonged to him alone, did you?

You were screaming now, too. Nearly making Krueger's ears bleed. "Quiet, bitch."

"He'll kill you!" you spat in his face, hair mussed by the couch cushions. "Nikto will fucking kill you if you don't get off me!"

Krueger laughed. "You truly think you mean that much to him? You're just a toy, Schatz."

You started to shake as more tears fell. Shit. Krueger recognized what happened in an instant. You were going hysterical. This place, your situation, had caused you to teeter to the the edge. And Krueger had accidentally given you the final shove. Nikto was totally going to kill him.

As if on cue, the door swung open. And out came the man you kept whining so insistently about.

Krueger let go of you, allowing you to scramble to close your legs as he gave Nikto a shit-eating grin. "There you are, big guy. We were just talking about you—”

Nikto was on him in a second, grabbing him by the throat and throwing him against the nearest wall. A method of killing they both shared. The brutal asphyxiation made Krueger hornier, if that was even possible. He really should check in with a doctor or psychologist about a way to fix the 'compulsive sexual disorder' his last shrink diagnosed him with.

When Nikto finally spoke, it was a single word.

"Leave."

He didn't bother sugarcoating, he never had and he never will. Nikto was the same overly competitive, overly territorial man Krueger knew on the field. A mirror image of himself. It was intoxicating.

The pressure on his throat made it hard to respond, but that didn't stop Krueger from trying. "No way to... welcome guests... to your home."

Nikto would have been content to kill him and they both knew it. They had been in this situation various times before, just on opposite ends of the knife. They were brothers in arms, fellow psychos. Even if they were the same, they would not hesitate to kill each other. That had been clear since they had first been partnered up.

And oh, hadn't Nikto been so close to killing Krueger. They were the same in so many ways, lacking boundaries and sanity. But they showed it in very different ways.

It may have been another spirit that possessed Nikto at that moment, or perhaps your terrified expression, because he dropped Krueger, who didn't so much as flinch during the whole interaction.

"Why did you come here?" Nikto asked, crossing his arms and standing directly infront of you, blocking you from Krueger's line of sight. You were still on the couch, confused by the man in your home, and terrified of what he almost did to you.

"Why'd you hide such a pretty toy from me?" Krueger countered, shooting you a wink you didn't even seem to register.

Nikto did not return the playful tone. There were many reasons he could give, but the answer was pretty simple. Nikto didn't like Krueger knowing about you. Not because he didn't trust you, but because he didn't trust Krueger. He's watched the man jerk off to dead bodies on the field, he knew Krueger kept pictures of the bloody corpses of women he bedded. So yeah, Nikto tried to keep you under wraps. Nikto may be a violent nutjob, but Krueger would tear you apart and leave nothing left. At least Nikto took care of his pets.

Nikto had to look up at Krueger to meet his eye. He muttered a single, sharp insult. "You are filth. You do not deserve her.”

Krueger scoffed. "A little hypocritical, don't you think?"

Things were quickly turning ugly. Neither man had enough impulse control to back down from a fight. Neither had ever *lost* a fight to begin with. And Nikto had no qualms beating a man to a bloody pulp infront of you, especially after what he walked in on. You had seen him do much worse.

Surprisingly, it was Krueger who conceded, leaning against the wall like he owned the place. "Alright, I'll back off. For you, Bruder."

That was most likely a lie. Krueger was never content with his own toys, he wanted to take others, too. Break them until they were unusable. He was greedy and sadistic, which is what made him such a good killer.

For all the shit Nikto put you through, somehow, he was still better than Krueger. You were still curled in on yourself, not yet coming to terms with the mindfuck of what happened in a matter of minutes, or how Krueger was casually walking to the window without a care in the world. Apparently, once you got used to one psycho, another, worse one appeared in his place.

“Come over for tea sometime,” Krueger said, throwing a sleazy smile over his shoulder, offering a wave as he jumped out the back window. “I’m sure my Lucas would love to have a little playdate."

You prayed to whatever god would listen that you never saw that man again. If he was the alternative to Nikto, you were happy to stay in your little prison, picking up the scraps of comfort you were offered.

You had to bite back a laugh as he fumbled with his keys in his thick fingers, fingers that you couldn't help imagining inside of you, curling into your spongy pussy, hitting all the right spots. Fingers you could imagine interlocking with your own, the callouses rubbing so sweetly against your skin. You'd make sure to kiss his rough fingers, rubbing lotion on his hands, before working it lower and lower. Imagining him in your mouth had you practically drooling, along with the little kisses you would pepper against his thighs. You wanted him, you wanted to take care of him, shower him in love, offering him the same happiness he gave you while you watched. It made sense, in your mind. He would fit perfectly against you in every way. You just knew it. If only you could have the chance—

But no. You couldn't just appear out of the blue like that. Maybe you'd try again some other time. First, before you introduced yourself, you'd have to learn a little more about him.

This was supposed to be the end, you were going to return home. But then again, there was a building right beside his, abandoned and quiet, with a nice roof on the same level as his window. It was almost like fate herself was offering this opportunity to you. It was the weekend, you didn't have anywhere to be, you could stay out as late as you wanted. You'd stay, just to see what the mysterious man was like when he was comfortable in his home, opposed to in public.

To be honest, there wasn't much to watch. He ate microwave ramen, smoked a joint, tripped over his own rug, and nearly faceplanted. It was a strange entertainment, watching him go about his daily life. Neither exciting nor tragic, all you could do was watch from your spot on the roof through your binoculars (you had bought them for bird watching, but this worked, too) and observe as he fell asleep on his couch.

You stretched, recounting each tiny moment, making sure to file away the details for later. His face behind the mask, each of his little scars you couldn't quite see from afar, the way his shirt rode up when he stretched, revealing a tuft of hair trailing down his stomach. It was like he was made for you, created just so you could lay eyes upon him. You were happy you got the chance to observe, to be a passing part of his life.

Soon, one walk with him turned into two. Then three. And before you knew it, the cycle had started. Cameras placed in the dark recesses of his apartment, forgotten items of his clothing finding their rightful place in your closet. It was simple instinct for you to take what you wanted, care for the things you loved. Even if you knew deep down it was wrong, it simply felt so right to bask in his presence. A familiar face after a long day, a man just as broken as you, a man you could love as you thought he deserved to be loved.

You couldn't help wanting to know more, familiarize yourself with every part of his life.

-

Konig was his name, you had learned that from KorTac's electronic file system that was protected by the classic password, 'Password123'. If you ever introduced yourself to him, you'd make sure to tell him about the fault in the system. You didn't want his information to fall into the wrong hands.

You had also learned other things about him. His diagnoses, his past injuries, and the sidenote describing how other operatives avoided him. It hurt you to see that, but you weren't surprised. His social skills clearly weren't the best, and even on his little online games, he was struggling to hold conversations in chat.

It was such a good thing you came along, wasn't it? That you had stopped fighting against your thoughts telling you this was wrong. Konig wouldn't have to go through all the stress of getting to know you and falling in love, you had easily taken care of that all for him! He had the perfect person for him, standing 23 steps away.

Of course, you could have just gone up to him like a normal person.

But you didn't want to startle him. It was clear he had troubles acting normal in social situations. Besides, you didn't want to run the risk of rejection. Because, while he may not be perfect to the majority, he was to you. You didn't want him to slip away from you now that you had found him.

It would be easier for everyone involved if you kept your distance. That's what you decided. Konig had so many things on his plate, you didn’t want him to worry about you, too. You were just happy to be around him, whether he knew you were there or not. He was like the sun, warming your face and soul.

But you also knew you couldn't keep this up. You weren't naive. He was growing suspicious of being followed, looking over his shoulder once too often. You'd introduce yourself soon, you promised yourself that. But you wanted to wait until he came to you. It was all about making everything was perfect. He'd love you, you knew he would. The porn he watched of dominating, controlling women was enough to comfort you about that. But even that certainty wasn't enough to get you to go up to him.

The simple truth was, you didn't want to ruin the relationship you had with him. You were content to watch, clinging to your fantasies of his hand in yours. With every fiber of your being, you wished that if you confessed everything, he wouldn't run away. You didn't want to be called crazy, even if that's what you were.

Maybe you'd attempt a conversation, if you could manage to keep yourself settled. That was the plan. You could do this.

But then, he left.

No warning, no clues left behind in his apartment. Your Konig had simply disappeared.

It didn't take long for you to put together that he had been deployed. You had to bite your tongue to keep from screaming, the metallic tang of blood filling your mouth. He was off in battle without you. Clearly, he was capable of combat, but you didn't have that much faith in him. He hadn't even done anything about you! How could he go up against trained killers?

You kept trying to rationalize things, deciding to take up his apartment while he was gone, living in his space to calm down. Something about the smell of him calmed you, sitting in bed and hugging his flat pillow to your chest. He had survived this long, so, logically, you knew he wouldn't die. And when you had checked his mission status, he was put on something you assumed was very simple, under an officer that knew what he was doing. As you fell asleep in his bed, you prayed the ache of his absence would ease. You didn't want to think of a life without your obsession. He would come back to you in one piece, he had to.

If anything, you weren't mad at Konig, or even sad at the possibility of his death. You were mad at KorTac for taking him away from you. Being deprived of him for a week was bad enough. What would happen if he got deployed again? What if this time it was for months? Years? That wouldn't do. You couldn't have him leave you again.

So, when he finally came back, you snapped. It didn’t matter how illogical it was, how weak you may be in comparison to him, because your mind was made up.

You were going to kidnap Konig.

You had bought enough sleeping pills to put down a horse. And considering his height, he'd need all of them. Surely, Konig wouldn't mind. He was yours, and he needed a break from all this bloody work. It was time for you to take care of him, just as you had in the shadows for so long. So, you waited, biding your time, so close yet so far. Blinded by obsession, you didn't even consider the risks ahead of you.

Just like the first time, you had followed him home from the store. Still 23 steps behind, your pace never faltering, head bent to look at an imaginary text on your phone. You followed him without thinking, his apartment building right in front of you, once he went inside you could wait until he was distracted and sneak in behind him, slip the tablets in his drink

Then, he veered off the sidewalk. He wasn't supposed to do that. You quickened your pace, following him down the alley where he disappeared to. Where was he? Surely, he hadn't left you again.

The next thing you knew, there was a hand around your throat, throwing you against the wall. You couldn't help leaning into his touch, your plan going out the window as he spat questions at you. He was so mad, attempting to make himself seem scary like a red panda when cornered. But you knew better, you had seen the true him.

You couldn't stop yourself from finally saying the words you had been dying to confess.

“I love you, Konig.”

He didn't say it back, but that was to be expected. Your appearance into his life was sudden and strong. You almost thought he was going to kill you in that tiny alley, (you would have happily met death it was by his hands), but that never happened. Instead, he let you go, not even bothering to lecture you as he walked off.

It was an invitation. And the small bit of shame you had felt, whispering that this was wrong, was squashed.

He left his window open that night. He had done so too deliberately for it to be an accident, choosing the window by the fire escape knowing you could climb up to break in. Unsure of how to approach you, this is how he did. An open window, slowly taking off his shirt in front of it, conveniently leaving his underwear out in plain sight for you as he went to bed naked.

You took the bait. You couldn't help it. And if the smile he wore the next morning when he saw the garment missing meant anything, it told you he didn't hate you. No, if anything, he liked your attention. You knew he was perfect for you, and this reaction had just confirmed it.

Immediately, you suggested an abortion. You didn't want a child to have to live the life you had been for months. And Nikto agreed. He didn't want a kid, it was too risky in his line of work if somebody found out, and he didn't want you to go through the pain of giving birth.

But then he picked apart the plan. He didn't want to take you to a doctor in case you tried to run, and he didn't trust himself or anyone at KorTac to perform an abortion safely. And he remembered the way his mother used to talk about him and his brothers. She called his birth, "самый счастливый день в моей жизни."

Was there a small chance that growing his family would make him happier? Kidnapping you certainly had. And a baby... perhaps it would give you something to do while he was at work. You had made it clear that you needed more than him to keep from falling back into a depressive spiral.

Nikto told you how he changed his mind, probably the only time he had. You looked hesitant to agree, but you didn't argue.

And since that night, you've seen him less and less. He'll be by your side two seconds flat if you need help, but other than that, you rarely see him. He even took to sleeping on the couch just to avoid you in bed. Being alone made the pregnancy even more unbearable.

But Nikto, as much as he wanted to hold you and your pretty round belly in his arms, could never bring himself to see you.

And the truth behind it? He was terrified.

Having kids was the most terrifying thing he had ever done. Yes, even counting the torture. He was legitimately scared that they would end up like him, that he would break them like he had done to you. And he was scared to be around you. One wrong word, one trigger, and he could snap. It wasn't just your life on the line anymore; it was the baby's, too. So, he thought it was better if he minimized contact.

But you couldn't stand it. He had broken you down and built you up again from scratch just to rely on him. And running to Nikto, crying in his arms, was always a risk. But hey, your hormones definitely made you even more attached to him. At least he wouldn't have to worry about you trying to escape after this. You were finally relying on him the way he wanted you to.

The pregnancy was obviously long and difficult. Stress made carrying the baby incredibly painful at times and the chance of a miscarriage was high.

Babies in Nikto's family always come late and fat, but healthy. Which proved true once again with his.

Contrary to the pregnancy, the birth itself was surprisingly easy, as far births can be. Nikto was by your side the entire time, trying so desperately to separate your pained screams from the ones he had heard on the field. The voices were somehow yelling louder, telling him what a mistake this all was, that he had led his precious pet to their death. The only way he could stay by your side was if he zoned out completely, letting you hold onto him while he shut down, only coming back to life when it was over and he needed to cut the umbilical cord.

Nikto let out a sigh of relief when he saw that the disgusting, squirming thing beside you was a girl. He had been secretly hoping for a daughter. He remembered how awful he and his brothers had been growing up, and did not want you to have to raise a mini version of him. No, this was a mini version of you, so soft and sweet, grabbing out to the only father she would ever know.

The baby opened her eyes almost immediately. And they were just as blue as his. As Nikto grabbed her in one hand and placed her on your chest, all he could do was pray that was the only similarity the two of them shared.

He expected you to be fine and able to take care of the baby by the next day. That did not happen.

As much as he didn't trust himself around the kid, he was pretty much single-dadding it for the first couple weeks because you were still recovering from both the pain and the mental side of everything.

Post partum hit you like a truck, forcing Nikto to help take care of the baby more than he would like. He didn't want this innocent, pure little thing to be in his hands. He held her only as much as he had to, scowled whenever he had to change her diaper, and decided letting her run around in a diaper opposed to a onesie would be easier for everyone involved. Children were much more annoying than he thought they would be. If she was crying, he took her outside and let her keep going until she couldn't anymore. He could handle the screaming since he was used to the noise on the battlefield, but it didn't make it any less of a pain.

He didn't give the kid a name, either. Instead, he called her, "щенок" to match you. His pet and his pup. It had a nice ring to it.

When you finally were able to get out of bed again, you couldn't even try to change the name, because she was already responding to it. It made you burst into tears to see how your she had already bonded to her father more than you. Well, that and the fact that your daughter was a living, breathing reminder of the hell you failed to escape. It hurt to see your baby like that, but you couldn't help it. When you looked at her, all you could see was him. You wanted so badly to love her, and you knew it wasn't her fault, but whenever you looked into her eyes you could only lose hope. You'd be stuck here forever, because even if you had the opportunity to escape, you wouldn't be able to leave her behind.

You hoped that the Stockholm syndrome would hurry up and set in because your daughter deserved at least one parent that could love her.

...

As life continued, Nikto kept trying to raise his child from afar. Holding her for only a moment, before deferring her to you. He even started wearing the mask around his now-turned toddler, worried he would scare her like he did the new KorTac recruits.

But the moment he came home from a mission, and his daughter ran out of your bedroom and straight to him, giggling and hugging his leg tight, he let himself soften a little.

That day, when you finally woke up from your nap and realized your daughter was missing, you had dashed down the halls only to find Nikto on the floor with her. They were playing some sort of game as he spoke softly in Russian. She babbled along with him, the nonsense syllables far more coherent than the ones you had tried to teach her in English.

She was always a little traitor. A daddy's girl despite everything. It made you feel insane to question Nikto anymore, when your daughter clearly loved him so much. And perhaps he finally loved something enough not to hurt them. A girl could dream, right?

But when it came to serious matters, Nikto did not spare any kindness. Especially because whenever his daughter acted out it was in similar ways to how he used to. Small, sociopathic tendencies you couldn't see, but he could. Stomping on bugs, destroying things, hitting you during a tantrum. It's not like children didn't occasionally do these things, but to paranoid bastards like him, everything was a sign that she would turn out like him. And he took it upon himself to deal with.

His punishments for his child were nowhere near as bad as yours were, but CPS would certainly not approve. Withholding the small affections he gave her, locking her in the dark with nothing until she calmed down, hurting her enough to force her to learn a lesson. People couldn't understand the pain they put others through unless they were put through that same pain. It was best his daughter learned this early

He tried as hard as he could to be a father. And for a while, he could fall into the domestic fantasy. But eventually, things always come to an end

And lastly, I’d like to say that once Nikto eventually kills you, he would not kill his daughter. Instead, he'd take her to that nice old couple in town (fuck the foster system and fuck everyone he knew personally) and abandon her at the doorstep, not leaving a trace of himself behind.