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Summary
Simon took one in interest, a bigger piece of paper filled with the man’s inventory; a nearly unrecognizable ghillie suit with half of the fabric being straight char, rugged fabric with bleach stains underneath the supposed eyeholes, melted dog tags they had to physically rip off of the man’s skin, various military-grade glowsticks, bandages, and most notable, an unknown military patch much like Simon’s own. It was one of the only things that had been completely fine, save for it being a completely darker color than it was supposed to be.
“Your dog tags were damaged beyond recognition and there was no other valid identification on you.” Simon leaned forward. “Tell me, who are you?”
Or
The 141 meet feral König.