What Could Never Be (Adler x Bell!Reader x Stitch)
Summary: You’re a sniper hidden in the trees meters away from the meeting of Stitch and Adler in front of the grave.
It’s time you choose.
Warnings/Tags: Trauma, Recovery from Trauma, Mental Anguish, Brainwashing, Manipulation, Major Character Death, Post!Solovetsky, Post-Canon, Bell!Lives, Implied Sexual Content, COD:BOCW Season 6 Outro Spoilers
Words: 9.1k
You saw the helicopter when it landed, several meters away from your disguised camouflaged form within the high sky reaching trees of Russia. You kept your eyes on the scope, able to see with the zoomed in and the well equipped sniper you had within your hands. You moved the scope away from the helicopter before anyone got out and back to where Stitch stared at the grave site.
Perhaps you were imagining things. But there was something strange about how Stitch’s shoulders looked from where you were. Almost resigned. Accepting. But that can’t be right.
He must be wishing to put on a final show, you thought. Stitch can say what he wishes but he does have some appreciation for theatrics.
Different from Perseus. You wonder even now what the man would say. Your once friend and superior, your confidant. Stitch wonders the same you’re sure. You do not presume to know about what Perseus would think, but you can see that Stitch has gone quite far. For the Perseus Collective. Not quite as devastating as it could’ve been if you didn’t ruin Perseus’s plans for Europe, but a blow nonetheless. Just as dangerous.
You can admire that at least. You never have been surrounded by stupid men.
Perhaps you should’ve, you tell yourself as you move your scope, your heart thundering as you looked for the form only for your breath to hitch when you found it. Him.
Adler.
You flexed your jaw, seeing Mason pat Adler’s shoulder before setting him off. Alone. To Stitch.
You wanted to spit at the foolishness, almost shaking your head but you could only watch as Adler drew nearer to Stitch.
Through comms, you heard Stitch say your name calmly—the old one, the true one that never felt quite the same no matter what he did or say or what the others could do. As if he could sense your trepidation from where he was at only to begin to turn when Adler came upon him with his pistol in hand.
Your finger twitched, moving towards the trigger as you watched and heard the interaction through comms. Your teeth being gritted and brows heavily furrowed and your heart feeling as if it would burst out of your chest from how fast it was going.
This was it.
Recompense.
A chance.
Redemption.
Seeing the man, hearing his voice—it brought memories. Too many. Despite Stitch finding you bleeding on the cliffs and Perseus and him deprogramming you, it did not take away the memories. Of Vietnam. All of them. Not just Fracture Jaw. You can close your eyes and see it being played, sometimes you even dreamed of it. Of claps to the shoulders and back, of teases from Sims and you doing the same about his magazines with Adler doing the same, of talks on the beaches, of trading of rations and eyes the color of the Arctic sea with it’s clearness winking at you to hush. For others to not get ideas he’s not spoiling you. The ways you would have his back like he always did yours. Of coughing harshly at trying a cigarette of his and him and the squad laughing at you and your face.
But you knew how to smoke. Stitch told you after he offered you one when you were recovering from your wounds.
“As if you were a chimney that only swallowed instead of expel,” the man would say in reference to how many packs you used to smoke, a tease in his tone and a fondness you couldn’t give back. You couldn’t remember. Only what you knew. Vietnam. The safehouse. The cliffs. Stitch seemed to tell when you were troubled by that, because he would hush you quietly, and carefully putting an arm around your shoulder and whispering vengeance to your ears. “The Westerners will pay, zaya. Adler will get justice for what he’s done. Just rest.”
Zaya. зая. Little rabbit.
They must’ve been close. But you don’t remember. Only what you know. And what you know has made you trust anyone very little. You didn’t think you could trust anyone again.
Adler’s words haunted you. The last words especially. Calling you a hero. But it wasn’t so. You were a pawn, nothing more. No one will know your name—what you did for Adler’s country. Only Adler does. The CIA. Even than, what was done to you, it was only told to certain people within the organization. Others will thank Adler for what he did. Stopping the nukes. Stopping the destruction and murders of millions of people.
You were quiet with the others. Perseus would visit you if it wasn’t Stitch. And if not Stitch, it was this woman called Portnova. She said you used to be legend within the KGB when you worked with them. You don’t remember, no matter what they say. Perseus looking at you sadly yet with grim determination while Stitch seemed to be at a loss and only grew angrier. Not at you. He never did despite his harsh appearance. At everything else. Adler especially.
You didn’t know what to do.
You stopped these people from killing millions, but they were. . .kind to you. Patient. Even with your nightmares that were more night terrors as you screamed and yelled about red door’s and jungles and needles and T.V.’s. Perseus did not let any television be near you if you walked around the large safehouse or any other they went to after your recovery, and if there were, they always had to be on. Stitch didn’t let others hold you down if they had to give you medicine through a poke, a deadly glare and hiss if they tried. Knowing you hated being trapped or stopped in any form. You at first even had trouble with blankets being over you—feeling as if they were choking you, gripping you, like a firm touch to your jaw and you would sometimes hallucinate and see suede shades for walls above you when you awoke.
They aren’t good. Not what you know of the word, at least the you now.
But they were kind. To you.
And that was what made you conflicted.
They weren’t good but they were kind.
The others were good but they were liars.
Adler would kill you if he knew you were alive. You knew he would. Because that’s what he tried to do the first time. Missing just by an inch.
“A miracle, you’ve always been one.” Perseus said at the news, much later when you were almost fully recovered and were at a loss on what to do as the Russian man smiled kindly at you, the lines on his face apparent when he did it. “Since I happened to find you all those years ago. Alone by a gulag and wishing to get supplies just to get by. Looking as if you were a rat that went for a swim in a dumpster. Your round eyes looking at me like I was insane. Perhaps you were more a mouse.”
You were alone. You felt like you always were. In one way or another. It explained a lot.
Your loyalty.
Why you would kill millions for one and save millions for another.
You were dangerous.
You do not know it was more then or more now when you are at a loss on whose side you’re on now.
When Perseus said that though, you couldn’t help but disagree. You think the world just wants you to suffer. Suffer from surviving Arash. Surviving torture. Brainwashing. Barely escaping Volkov. Almost dying in Cuba. Again in Solovetsky. Only to suffer once more from a bullet to the chest. Overlooking the pretty horizon as you slowly bled out and eyes squinting against the sun and green grass stained red along with the flowers moving with the cold arctic wind.
Perseus only strengthened his words more, after cursing both Arash for his traitorous ways and for Volkov for not informing him about you immediately.
“You’re a survivor. You’ve always been.” He said, comforting hand to your shoulder as you could only stare. Throat oddly tight as he looked down at you kindly, a small smile under his mustache. “You’re the best out of all of us. Why do you think you were my second?”
You do not think he solely meant your skill set.
He soon added that he believes Adler saw the same. And used you for it. The way you were. Your perseverance and loyalty. With false bonds and lies.
You kept silent. Throat only getting tighter and eyes strangely feeling pressured.
It was true. Vietnam was fake. No matter what you saw when you slept.
But the safehouse.
The safehouse.
You went through every moment within that place the time you were with Perseus and recovering. Them not pushing you to go back to work for them. They had others that could do what you could. But they would remind you that you were always the best. Thanks to that, you played back everything. What was lies. Half lie. Half truth. And if there were any truths to begin with.
It always got muddy with Adler.
Even when you were with them, after a moment with Adler in the safehouse, you would needlessly analyze the interaction and scrutinize it. What he said. What he didn’t say but you can see something between the lines he wants you to read. Wanted you to read. How he would stare at you. All moments when they didn’t mention Vietnam or another event that Adler would say happened but you just don’t remember cause of your accident—just speaking. About anything. Indulging your wants with the camera. Indulging your reading. You realized you loved him from those moments, a book in your hand and an Ernest Hemingway quote on your lips of days that will ever be while he had his cigarette in hand and his shoulder to your back to lean over you and a wry tone matching his words “Here’s to the other shitty days to come and all the wars that comes with it, kid.” You don’t know why that sentence of all things made you realize your heart was battering against your ribs for a reason. Maybe it was how he said it, how his breath on your neck and hair felt, his scent that’s all nicotine and masculine cologne—maybe it was because in his own way he finished the quote and the fact he knew the quote in the first place to summarize it so well. A soldier tired of wars but expecting them either way. Maybe it was all of that.
Still.
You do not understand these moments. No matter how you try to look at it.
You just know your chest weighed heavily each time you thought on it, and you thought often.
It was months after recovery, your Russian accent slowly coming back and mixing with your American one, you awakening from a nightmare due to Stitch waking you up with a certain look in his eyes as he called your name that you don’t feel is yours.
“You were calling for his name.” At your questioning glance, Stitch just continued to stare at you. Almost assessing. “Adler,” he spat. “Tell me, zaya, did he make you love him too?”
You didn’t know how to answer. Only staring at your lap but that’s all Stitch needed because he quickly stood up and paced and cursed and fists clenching and muscles tensing.
You watched as he did and something seemed to click.
“We weren’t just friends, were we?” Stitch stopped, head bowed and and back facing you. You tried to think back once more, but you came out blank. Only little flashes of something, of hands and stray touches but that could be anything. “I. . . I’m sorry. I—I don’t remember.”
He just turned towards you, moving slowly and his shoulders appearing slouched as he sat next to you with a chair by your bed. His eyes crinkled sadly, and he brought a hand up, almost ghosting over your cheek and you let him. Almost entranced at how soft his face could be, even with one blind eye.
“Do not apologize, mon zaya. Perhaps with time.”
You don’t think so. MK—Ultra is powerful. Even with deprogramming, it only worked getting rid of the trigger phrase. You don’t think you’ll ever get your memories back. Stitch knows it too. But he said the white lie anyways. You wonder if it was more for him than you.
The time came, a month later that the woman you know as Kitsune came to you and gave you a folder with an arched brow. You staring at her in mild confusion before opening the folder and you seeming to freeze, as Kitsune said they need your help and they wouldn’t have asked if they didn’t. You recall pressing your lips, your mind whirring with decisions and plans for those decisions that was always in the back of your mind as you stayed with them.
To save.
Or revenge.
You chose. And worked on codes and decoding. Even when Stitch gave you an out, his hand to your shoulder but close to cupping your neck gently as he stared down at you that you didn’t have to do this. You remember swallowing thickly before strengthening your resolve and sticking with it. His lone eye seemed to glitter and gleam with soft pride and an emotion you can’t give, but your heart quickened all the same. As if recognizing—remembering for you.
It was when Perseus got diagnosed, that you felt like you were faltering. The man slowly just kept staying in bed and say the orders there—meetings as he laid and looked pale and lost his hair. The old man still would smile at you even in pain and you didn’t even realize you were crying by his side until he shushed you and put a hand to your head as you sobbed.
“Come now, radnaya, it’s alright.” He said, even with trembling hands he would comfort you and clear your tears. Still with that kind smile. Your chin wobbled. “I do wish I was like you now, however. I imagine you would survive this. If only I was a miracle like you. My dirty little mouse that believed in me.”
“You’ll survive this,” you blubbered between sniffles and you didn’t even notice Stitch came into the room until he put his hands on your shoulders, as if to ground you. “Y-you can. . .you shouldn’t speak like you’ll die. You can’t.” You stated without thinking. You weren’t thinking at all. You always felt strongly, your eyes pleading as you grabbed Perseus’s hand between your own as you pleaded with the older man seeming to share a glance over your head to Stitch. “Please. I—I don’t, I don’t remember anyone else. Anything else.”
You don’t remember your own father’s face.
You don’t even know if you had one.
But you know Perseus was the closest you could ever get.
Perseus smiled. And squeezed your hands and brought them to his lips to kiss the back of them.
Stitch took you away after that and a few hours later, your father figure was gone. You didn’t think about how the man was the one who Adler has been obsessed with for more than a decade. How Adler will never get the chance to do the deed himself, never get the satisfaction. How he got rid of you, at least hoping to, to make sure Perseus couldn’t get someone like you again. You didn’t think about how Adler might look at finding out about Perseus and how you would feel about that until later.
No.
You were hurting. You were in pain.
And Stitch was too despite how he tried to hide it as he held your sobbing form to his chest. That’s all you thought about, until a possible reprieve formed in your mind as Stitch’s hands caressed your back in comfort, up and down to your shoulders and even tickling your neck. You moved your head to stare up at him, your eyes meeting his and something flashed within them and you took your chance.
You stretched upwards, thankful he had his mask off for once, and kissed him with your hand to the back of his neck and the other to his chest. He groaned in your mouth, in a mix of thankful need and almost as if it said finally as he easily wrapped his arms around your waist. Stitch kissed you as if you would disappear in front of him and you guess in a way that did happen already, only for him to pull back, a hand to gently on your chin. His eyes scanning your face before understanding took over at what you want. That you still didn’t remember.
“Is this what you wish, mon zaya?”
You barely let him finish, kissing him again before you started dragging him to your room only for him to take lead instead to his. “More privacy,” he said to your ear, breath on you before kissing it. Him laying you down on his bed and over you as he kissed you everywhere and hands wandering as you pushed his hood off him along with his many layers to feel his chest. “I missed how you taste. Mon zoya. So strong. Even after everything.”
You don’t feel strong. Just tired. Always tired.
But the sweet words helped, the few ones he would do to your ears outside of his quiet sounds that came from his chest more than his throat.
When you laid your head atop his bare chest, under sheets, you wonder what you’ve done. But. You’re tired. You’re in pain. And Stitch—despite everything—is kind and gentle and soft to you. You couldn’t help but selfishly keep it.
And so it kept happening, Stitch as the new Perseus, and you still creating codes and more codes and backup codes and decoding and decoding in various forms as time went on. You and Stitch now together, and the Collective seemed happier with it. Almost like everything was back to normal.
You don’t remember normal.
Stitch’s plans were in the making and he didn’t want you to help, barely answering your questions when you heard about the Numbers and somehow Adler’s name being brought up. Stitch only kissing your forehead and telling you your time would come later for the Westerner that did this to you. That he shall have his turn for now.
You found out later what occurred, due to Portnova and Kitsune. Stitch brainwashed Adler.
Brainwashed Adler.
You couldn’t help it, you laughed. A full guffaw towards the sky and hand to your mouth as if to stifle it but you could not help it.
Stitch was not kidding about justice.
Still. You worried.
About what?
At this point, you’ve accepted you’ll never truly know anything again. Especially your own feelings.
You kept coding and decoding, but mostly coding. Always coding. Codes in newspapers and obscure articles, a stray TV channel. You did it.
Verdansk happened. The explosion.
Your lips formed to a wry humorless smile at Adler’s work even when brainwashed. Even that can be seen as funny.
So obsessed with the mission—to stop Perseus—that his brain rewired itself to achieve it.
You remembered his words to you, after you asked him more on what he meant that Hudson doesn’t trust what he couldn’t control. Adler seemed to throw you a smirk as his brow arched, smoke billowing out from his mouth as he sat on his desk and you sat in front of him.
“Trust, kid, is all about control. Remember that.”
You didn’t forget.
You feel a little jealous though. You wish you were able to rewire yourself.
You then get the call from Stitch, to head to Verdansk. That it’s time.
You checked over your codes and sent them before nodding to yourself, and leaving. It was not only you however, Naga came along too. In the forest of Verdansk. You put a hand on the tombstone, as if you could feel Perseus’s hand instead but you didn’t. Just stone. Hard. Cold. You lowered your hand and left to your position, Naga doing the same when you glanced towards him. Stitch coming and just waiting in front of the grave.
And now you’re here, trigger on your finger and eyes on the Russian and American as they spoke which you could hear through comms. Stitch explaining what Perseus really was.
Adler, as you thought, wasn’t having it.
“You’re coming with me,” he quietly commanded, but with all the calm authority he always exudes even though he appears he’s seen better days. His wheat hair mussed and wounds upon his face and person everywhere but his arm up with the pistol steady. Always steady. And looking at Stitch in the eyes. “There’s blood on your hands.”
“Are your hands clean, Bell?”
You felt your face wince but Stitch threw his own retort, about what Adler did in his brainwashed state. What he did to Verdansk.
Adler scowled.
“Fuck you!” His hand tightened around the pistol and you felt sweat gather on your temples, feeling cold as you bit the inside of your cheeks and lips. You tightened your hold on the sniper as well. “I wasn’t in my right mind. You saw to that.”
Stitch chuckled lowly, amused and uncaring as he moved with Adler’s pistol not wavering.
“You Westerners. . . so squeamish. Look at where we are. This was the Eastern Front. The blood of millions,” Stitch stressed, motioning and pointing his finger down upon the ground, ”of my people so deep in this soil. Men and women, who paid the ultimate price for what had to be done.”
You bit your cheek harshly, you tasting blood as your finger twitched on the trigger. You taking a quick glance to where you knew Naga was.
“You’re a fucking monster.” America’s Monster growled out in your comms, your eyes back through your scope as your breathing felt short and your hands under your gloves felt sweaty. “I should kill you for what you’ve done. For what you did to me.”
Ah. There’s the answer than.
You took a steadying breath, staring at these two powerful men through your weapon. Before quickly moving the scope to see the helicopter and where the others were that left Adler alone in the first place, seeing they seem meters away as well from where Adler and Stitch were. You felt sweat come down your neck and temple as you closed your eyes. The world seeming to slow.
“My life no longer matters,” you heard Stitch say sorrowfully. You wonder. . . Your eyes opened, moving the scope back to them but you farted your eyes back towards Naga, trying to spot him through the camouflage. The hooded man turned and let his back face Adler as the scarred man drew closer, his lips pressed together the way they always did when focused. “Do what you will.” You took the safety off as Stitch’s hand slowly rose, and you moved the silenced sniper and took aim, your finger squeezing as Stitch did the signal by touching his blind eye and trees rustled in the wind. “Finish what you started on Rebirth Island. My broadcast is complete.” Stitch wasn’t sorrowful. He sounded resigned. Your chest heaved and your heart battered as you moved once more, licking your lips and putting your eye to the scope. Hand slightly shaking around your weapon but you held your breath. “I have changed the world, Adler. In ways you can’t even imagine. . .”
Your finger squeezed just like your heart did.
You slumped your body against the tree just like a body fell, your eyes closing as you hit your head against the trunk.
“What the fuck?” You heard through your comms, your lips twitching at Adler’s bewildered tone. It sounded funny when he’s confused. “A sniper. . .”
You heard Adler’s steps walk past with the comms until you couldn’t hear anymore. You sighed, shoulders slumped as you waited. Maybe if you just stayed quiet and didn’t move an inch, you can live out your days in trees that almost touched the sky.
You smiled at the thought.
You heard noise from below, your eyes moving downward as you saw Adler moving and looking at the trees with his gun out. Your smile turned sad.
No, you think as you watch the man who’s plagued your mind for years, the world isn’t that kind to me. It never has been.
You dropped the sniper purposefully, it landing on the ground with a harsh thunk from the height. Adler immediately turning himself and his gun towards it before his eyes slowly lifted to where you were as you took the foliage off you that helped hide you. Eyes that were harsh ice widened and cleared.
“Bell?”
You barely heard the name, him almost seeming to say it to himself in disbelief. It didn’t help you were quite high up. You’re surprised you heard it at all.
You swiped away any remaining foliage, staring down at Adler with a passive quirk of the lips.
“Hey, Adler.”
At your words, he seemed to shake himself. His eyes back to hard as he kept his gun on you. Another thing you expected. Along with his sharp tone.
“How are you alive?”
“I’m breathing,” you answer, nonplussed.
“Still a little shit, I see.” Adler retorted blandly before his expression maintained its stoicism as he analyzed you and your uniform, eyes narrowing at the patch you had. “You crawled back to Perseus when you got a second chance? No—you’re fucking third chance?”
“I couldn’t do much crawling when I’m bleeding out,” you clipped from above, before you reigned it back in. You rather not fight. Not now. Despite. . .everything. “They found me. Specifically. . . Stitch did. If you wanted to kill me, you should’ve kicked me over the cliff for good measure. I’m here because of you.”
Adler stared up at you, then glanced at your sniper than towards the direction of where Stitch’s body laid. His pistol didn’t lower as he moved his hawkish gaze back towards you. His mind seemed to whir and you could tell because he didn’t have his shades on. You could see him now.
“. . .it was you. You sent the messages.”
You snorted at his slow realization, unamused. Adjusting yourself on the branch by laying your arm against your bent knee.
“Lot of good that did. You got tricked by the Nova 6 bait anyways.”
“Our decoder had to leave,” Adler excused with a frown. “It’s not like you made the messages easy to decipher.”
“I couldn’t! The various things I had to do to make sure I didn’t get caught, from fake codes to real ones to the ones I sent to you—don’t blame me because the CIA is horrendous at analytics and linguistics of all forms.”
“You’re a genius, kid. Don’t blame others because you’re better.”
The compliment threw you for a moment, you blinking at him and how easily he said it as his arms slowly lowered and his pistol was to his side but still tense.
You frowned before glancing away.
“Doesn’t matter. It seems the lot of you were able to get the message on specifically where in Verdansk Stitch was going to be.”
“Lot of good that did. You couldn’t let me do the deed, Bell?” You didn’t answer, your frown only deepening. Adler squinted up at you. “What made you do that anyways? And was what Stitch true or was he just spouting shit to sound ideological? That grave too.”
“I had to do it. And. . .it’s true. Perseus was never one man. Never will be. Another one will pop up after Stitch. The one you knew as Perseus though—the one we both knew as Perseus, is laying in that grave.” You say, an iota of solemn in your tone.
Adler’s expression darkened, his fists clenching as he cursed to himself before his eyes narrowed as they turned back towards you suspiciously.
“You were close.” You didn’t say anything, just stared down at Adler and met his piercing gaze. “I know the two of you were. How much did you do for Perseus, Bell? What was his plans?”
“I didn’t do much,” you answer carefully, eyes inscrutable. “I was recovering from my wounds in the cliff and after that I was recovering from the effects of MK-Ultra.” Adler’s expression didn’t change, so you just continued as you sighed. “They didn’t wish me to push myself, after everything. They—one day I just got a folder and I was back to coding again. But,” you say immediately when Adler’s expression seemed to harden, “that was when I decided to do the secret codes to the CIA in secret. They only gave me small jobs either way. Only coding. They. . .they just didn’t want to push me. And what Stitch said was what they basically want.”
You wanted to be careful with your wording. Your feelings are complicated when it comes to the Collective and you don’t need Adler catching it and using it. He did though.
Based on how his lips almost seemed to curl.
“Seems you had nice caring friends, Bell. The homicidal friendly aura’s grew on you?”
Your eyes narrowed, anger rising.
“I don’t expect you to understand!” You thought of what Perseus did for you, with the televisions. How patient he was. You thought of Stitch, his protectiveness when it came to your medicine in needle form and wouldn’t let anyone get too close to hold you all of a sudden where you felt like you would choke. Your eyes grew teary. “You—you out of all people wouldn’t. What they do, their plans—all of it—it’s horrible. I know that! But. . .they were kind to me. Even after everything I did for you, they didn’t care. They just wanted to help me—“
“To use you.” Adler cut in firmly. “You’re a genius, Bell. You got some talent to have the skill set you have—but your coding is where you always shined. They were manipulating you—“
“They weren’t!” You refuse to hear this. How dare he say this anyways?! “And don’t speak like you weren’t above that either! Pot calling the kettle black much, Adler?!”
“I know what I am.” Adler stated quietly, eyes cool. “Just like you do. But do you know what they are? They don’t care about anyone—just using others for their sick ideology. You’re going to defend them?”
“I’m not defending them!” You shouted, aghast. It’s like everything you’re saying is going one ear and out the other. Adler doesn’t think straight when it comes to Perseus. It’s mind boggling. “They helped me with MK-Ultra, what you did. Do you know how long it took me to get a full night’s rest? How long it still takes? I have your memories of Vietnam. I have memories of needles and televisions and being in the lab. Memories of you making me go through those scenarios over and over and over again. I felt like sometimes I saw you everywhere, even awake. They comforted me and took away any triggers for me and they were there when you—“ you cut yourself off sharply, biting your lip and looking away.
It was silent for a few moments. You didn’t look at Adler when you slowly began again, you wonder if he could even hear you with how softly you spoke.
“Perseus took away any televisions. And if there were, he would leave them on so I wouldn’t. . .wouldn’t see anything. He didn’t push me to work, this was after almost or basically a year passed with them. And it’s because someone else needed my help. He said I didn’t have to do more. Stitch too. Stitch made sure about needles and people not getting close. They. . .I don’t remember anything. I don’t remember my family. Which is why. . . the safehouse. . .” You bit your lip, than continued. “Perseus I think is the closest father I will ever get. And Stitch. . . Stitch. . .” You trailed off, not knowing what to say.
Adler though, as always, read you easily.
“He loved you.” Your eyes closed, your lips pressing into a frown as Adler nodded over in the direction of Stitch’s body, you barely hearing his mutter that it explained a few things which made your frown deepen. Did Stitch mention something when he had Adler in Laos? “And you killed him. Did you?”
Does it matter? You wanted to ask, but instead your eyes opened in a half lidded state as you answered tiredly.
“Trust is about control. I remembered.”
You didn’t want to, but you did. Or rather, you just chose to. You used Stitch’s feelings for your own selfish reasons. To get you here.
Adler’s eyes seemed to turn unreadable as he tilted his head slightly at you.
“So you understand.”
“What?”
Adler stared at you a moment more before breaking his gaze to the side and staying annoyingly silent. Appearing in thought as the silence stretched and the breeze blew by you due to the height you were at. You taking slow breaths as you clenched a fist on your knee before narrowing your gaze at Adler.
“Don’t torture me with this silence. Do it.”
Adler arched a brow slightly at you as he craned his neck back up to where you were at.
“Do what?”
“Kill me. Finish the job. Tie up the loose end. Just hurry up with it, before Hudson comes.”
Adler rose both his brows at you.
“Why would I do that? You have the most information about Perseus now. About who could be the next one. The people. The next possible plans. Everything. It’d be a waste.”
He won’t stop. Even with him dead.
You felt yourself pale.
“Are you going to torture me?”
“Will I have to?”
You briefly contemplated jumping off the tree. It would be quick. Quicker than anything you’ve gotten. You always seemed to bleed slow or be suffocated slowly. You never got it easy. The jump and fading to black would probably be the easiest thing you will ever have.
“You’re a survivor. You’ve always been.”
You steeled your expression and Adler spotted it, seeing you slowly go down the tree and he put his pistol away when you landed in front of him. His arms by his sides like yours and you having to slightly crane your neck up to meet his gaze. Your eyes remained connected before his moved and roved over your form. You doing the same now that you were closer.
He still smells like cigarettes, you think fondly and saw all the cuts upon him. How ragged he looked, and how the beard just added to it. So different from how you always saw him, sleek and clean. The hair is still distracting.
Your thoughts halted when Adler reached a hand and ripped out the patch on your shoulder with the Perseus symbol, him glaring at it before throwing it away. It landing on the ground a few feet away from them as you looked at Adler with brows slightly pinched together. He took another look at you and gave you an imperceptible nod, his lips pressed in approval before he shifted his stance and put more pressure on one leg.
Is he injured? You took a closer look at him, spotting his tired eyes before spotting a paler spot in his temple when his hair moved before looking at his arms and noticing a pale spot as well as a spot where it looked he got pricked by his veins. Your brows went up. He’s freshly deprogrammed. And he came here immediately. Is he insane?
Yes. He is.
But you’re no better.
“Why did you do this, Bell?” You blinked from your thoughts, noting that Adler is trying to read you as his eyes squinted more from the sun than anything else. “All of it. Why?”
You feel like he knows.
How far you go for loyalty is no secret.
The bastard just wants you to say it.
You leaned back against the tree, crossing your arms and looking to the side towards the tall trees, the direction of the grave site and a body. You thought of breaks outside the safehouse, of clouds of smoke and talks of philosophy and books. Of curious tilts to the head that makes honey hair shift and the relaxed quirk of the lips as he would listen to you. You pointing at a passage of a book and him leaning over your shoulder to see what makes you passionate, your hair rising when you would feel his breath on you and his scent of nicotine and woody cologne overpower your senses. You thought of after Volkov, him going over your injuries and his fingers grazing a bruise on your temple to your cheek as you felt your breath escape you while he just did the action like it was nothing with that nonchalant expression of his, feeling as if his eyes behind his shades were burning. You thought of amused tones and languid body language when he would tease about your pictures and you’re wasting film but he’d let you anyways. Making sure to always tell you to get his good side if you were going to take some of him.
You thought of your head free from your beanie/ski mask for once, his hand over it and fingers almost carding your hair due to a job well done.
“Same reason I said Solovetsky.”
You felt Adler’s gaze on you intensify, but you kept your gaze away and down as you clenched your hands under your crossed arms.
“Try again,” he said, making you throw him a confused look. Your confusion growing when you spotted his scarred lips twitched upward in amusement and eyes almost seeming to soften. “Anyone ever told you, you have bad taste in men?” Your jaw dropped, cheeks pricking as you stared mortified and his lips lifted more before straightening and taking a step towards you. “You need a better reason than that. Try again.” He implored calmly as he eyed you.
You clicked your jaw shut, still keeping your arms crossed tightly to you as you moved your head against the tree to the side. Before looking back up at him and putting your arms back to your sides.
“Obviously it’s because it’s not right to kill millions. In any way.”
Adler nodded at you, moving to grab your sniper and putting the strap over himself before turning back towards you as you watched him go back to your side.
“Make sure you say that to everyone. Especially Hudson.”
He started walking back to where the grave site was, you hesitantly doing the same as you tried to catch his eyes again but he kept his gaze forward and seemed to be in thought.
“You’re really not going to kill me?” You stated more than questioned, not knowing what to think.
He threw you a side glance, noticing your unease.
“I told you, kid,” he said, looking away with gaze and tone distant. “It’d be a waste.” You didn’t know what to say in reply, only staring at Adler in hopes his expression can perhaps give away something. Besides appearing in thought and tired yet still have this focused air around him. There’s something you’re missing. What happened to him? Did the brainwashing to him actually open his eyes? Or. . . Did he see things like you did during the deprogramming? “You’re going to follow my lead. I’m sticking my neck out for you so make sure you play along.”
“Why?”
You recognized they were getting closer to the grave site, but you kept your gaze on Adler who hummed distractingly.
“Along the same reasoning as you.”
Your mouth parted but they arrived at the grave site, Adler putting a tight hand on the tombstone with jaw tight as you crouched to where Stitch’s body laid. Throat tight as you stared at his corpse and the blood upon the ground. You made it quick. You made sure. You wonder if Stitch had an inkling and that’s why Naga was here too.
He’s with Perseus now. The thought made your lips form into a ghost of a melancholic dry smile. No. That’s not right.
You closed Stitch’s eyes with your fingerless gloved hands, feeling the coolness already from his body. You heard Adler step behind you.
“Did you know?” At your silence, keeping your eyes on Stitch and the hole on his hood and his head, he continued lowly. “What Stitch did to me. You knew?”
“I only knew afterwards,” you say, standing up and turning towards him only to see that he was quite close to you and we’re almost chest to chest with him as he stared at you. You kept your ground as you swallowed lightly. “Like I said, they wanted me mostly focusing on other things.”
Adler snorted humorlessly, turning his gaze to Stitch’s corpse with a narrowing of his icy eyes.
“You can say it. It was karma for what I did to you. You probably thought it was funny.” His face shifted, eyes darkening as his jaw ticked. “I know I would’ve.”
“You shouldn’t have fallen for the trap,” you say instead of directly answering whether he was right or wrong, face disapproving. “Even without deciphering my message about Nova 6, you shouldn’t have taken a light team. You knew what would happen.”
Like you, Adler avoided to answer. Which was an answer in itself as you sighed, putting a hand to your face as Adler’s eyes turned back towards you. You seeing Adler turning his head over his shoulder towards the grave site and staring at it.
“Did he suffer?”
You stared through your fingers at the grave site, biting your lip as you thought of medicine after medicine being pushed through the older man’s body. How pale he looked. How skinny. Where his speech was more like rasps and breaths.
You nodded. Adler giving a strong nod of his own, eyes vicious at the grave and satisfied.
“Good.”
He turned his head back towards you, noting you seeming to bite your tongue as his hands clenched before turning his back towards you and staring at the grave, shoulders appearing drooped. You deciding to join by his side, arms brushing when you reached him before pulling it back to not touch and just stare at the grave site.
You wish they put his name but you understood why Stitch and the others decided to not. People would desecrate it. And it’s fitting Perseus at least had his favorite flower on it, the symbol of the flower looking harsh and not as beautiful as the real thing could be but still able to capture one’s eyes to look at the pattern.
“. . . I saw you too.”
What? Your eyes darted towards Adler, side eyeing him as he spoke lowly. His eyes were staring at your hands between you two, his pistol long put back in its holster on his leg. Saw? Wait. . .did he also. . .? You noticed the holster was in the same area as it was on the cliff. As it should, it was his dominant side. But you thought of the cliffs anyways. Nonetheless, your expression was one of bewilderment as his eyes didn’t stray. You spotted his lips twitch before he rose his eyes and connected to yours, your breath hitching at your throat when he threw you a soft smirk.
“I dreamed of you too, Bell.” You inhaled sharply, eyes widening before Adler’s expression settled as well as yours as your head darted to sounds ahead. Adler went in front of you, his form able to cover you from who was coming. “Stay behind me. And follow my lead.” He lowly commanded and you followed.
You heard Hudson, Woods, and Mason come up. Seeing Stitch’s body and Hudson saying they were wondering what was taking so long. They didn’t even hear his shot. Woods saying that at least the fucker is dead with Mason adding that there’s few things that’s better than killing the ones who fucked your head.
Not the right words right now, Mason. You thought, cringing internally. But Adler spoke for you.
“It wasn’t me.”
The others threw him various looks of confusion.
“What the fuck you mean it wasn’t you?” Woods questioned. “He has a hole in his head, doesn’t he?”
“If it wasn’t you,” Hudson asked, always focused and getting the bottom of things, “who was it?”
“Adler,” Mason called, voice tense as he brought his gun slightly up. “Who’s behind you?”
You didn’t move. But Adler slightly did to show you to them, hand moving back behind him to keep on your waist just in case.
“Wha—?! Bell?!” Woods gasped, almost dropping his gun from shock as Mason’s own eyes widened.
“You’re alive. . .”
You threw them a shaky smile and a wave, before dropping both when you could spot Hudson’s tense form.
“Adler,” Hudson toned lowly, dangerously and making you subconsciously grab Adler’s shoulder to help ground you just as Adler gave your waist a comforting squeeze as you stayed behind. “What is the meaning of this? You said you fucking handled her in Solovetsky but she’s breathing and moving to me. She’s dangerous.”
You don’t miss Hudson’s attitude towards you. Even though you’re aware of why he had it before. You still find it distasteful.
“To others maybe,” Adler replied steadily, but there was a hidden coiled tone underneath as he kept his face unreadable as possible without his shades. “I did say she was the one that killed Stitch. Why do you think that is?”
Adler didn’t wait for Hudson’s probable scathing retort, based on how his face seemed to morph into a scowl, moving to explain he thought it a waste to throw someone of Bell’s talents away. So they both formed a plan, Adler did shoot you but not fatally, and allowed you to go back to Perseus to spy on them for him. At this, Hudson stepped up to Adler. Adler straightening his shoulders and letting you go as Hudson got into his face.
“You gave her back to Perseus. . .?! Were you fucking insane?! I didn’t give you leave on this, Russ—no one did!”
“This is fucking crazy. . .” Mason let out, still looking at you as well as Woods and holding onto their weapons but they were pointed down this time.
Woods huffed, scratching at his beard and looking at you with an expression that almost looked like one of pity as Hudson kept going but Adler kept his frigid stare on the man.
“She knows fucking everything. She could’ve relayed information to Perseus and the rest while she, what—let you get kidnapped and brainwashed as a gotcha?!”
“I didn’t know about that,” you spoke up, almost wishing you hadn’t when Hudson and all his rage went to you and almost seeming to burn brighter when he looked at you. Adler kept his stare on Hudson but you spot his lips pressed in disapproval. “But I did warn him about everything else. I sent coded messages throughout my time there. How do you think you got that message about coming to these specific coordinates?” Hudson’s hard stare didn’t lessen but his brows did furrow. “I warned him beforehand about the mall and Nova 6 being a distraction but they weren’t able to decipher it—but I know other locations and objectives that Perseus planned and was able to tell you and the ones you were able to decipher, you went towards them. I made sure I found as much information as I could but I kept anything else I learned during my time you guys to myself. And don’t blame Adler. It was my idea.”
Hudson switched his gaze back towards Adler, Adler throwing a look at you over his shoulder but you didn’t falter.
“And you decided to accept this, why?”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Hudson, would you calm down?!” Woods put a hand to Hudson’s tense shoulder. “You heard her. All those missions we did was because of messages we couldn’t figure out from who, right? It was Bell!”
Mason stepped up, giving you a small nod in greeting which you gave back.
“It does check out. All the messages about the prison transport in Miami and even the attacks on a NATO base in Germany last year as well as everything else we got always was right. Who knows what other codes we weren’t able to get because of Bell’s unique skill at coding?”
“That doesn’t excuse it and you know it.” Hudson stated coldly, not keeping his eyes off Adler as your once handler kept the the man’s stare even through his black shades. “You kept this information to yourself all this time and chose to not report it at all. Not even Black, I imagine. And you indulged an asset’s idea.”
“Ignore her. It was my idea. And like I said,” Adler said lowly, quietly where you had to strain your ears to hear as his eyes were hard. “I don’t like wasting talent. She’s the best fucking coder I’ve ever seen and you know it, Hudson. She isn’t just an asset. Not anymore. She’s one of us.”
“You’re still one of us.”
You whipped your eyes towards Adler as Hudson continued talking about something or other with Adler continuing to have your back and defending you, continuing the cover he made and you reinforcing it. You released a small smile, the tension in your shoulders releasing. Seeing that Adler is going to stick with what he said, he’s not going to kill you. And it seems he won’t let anyone else either. The conversation moved to Perseus, Hudson questioning if Adler was able to get answers from Stitch before you shot him.
Adler scowled.
“Perseus is dead. Look behind you.”
The three men looked at the tombstone, you confirming without them asking that it’s true. The Perseus Adler has been chasing died last year from cancer, and Stitch was the new one. Now another one will come along.
“You happen to know who, Bell?” Mason asked and you shrugged slightly, turning your gaze back towards the trees and your position earlier.
“I think it was Naga.” You heard Adler almost growl the name to himself as you continued. ”He was with us as a backup but I handled him before I got, Stitch. I feel like. . . they had an inkling about me. . . Doesn’t matter now. Naga was close to Stitch when it came to the work—the next Perseus could be anybody.”
“You have a better idea than us,” Woods stated, rolling his shoulder slightly as he looked around before scrunching his nose when his eyes moved back to the grave site. “But you can tell us later. Let’s get out of here. I’ve been here too long already.”
All of you began to move, you stepping up to Adler’s side but Hudson stopped both of you by getting in your paths.
“Don’t think this is over.” Hudson moved his sharp gaze between you and Adler, jaw tight at Adler’s apathetic expression. “You both have a lot of interrogation to do when we get back. Black is going to hear of this.”
“I imagine he will,” Adler replied casually, Hudson giving the man another look before throwing you one of severe judgement and turning away. You released a breath when the man was far away enough you didn’t feel like he could hear you, tension leaving your body only to blink when you felt a touch on your head. You looking at Adler who had his brow up a modicum. “I’m trying to keep you alive. I’ll take the hit, Bell. Don’t worry about it.”
Adler released you, stepping away and going back towards the helicopter with one more lingering glance towards the tombstone as you moved to his side.
“But—“
Adler turned his head towards you, cutting you off with a look.
“I said I got it. Try to rest on our way to the safehouse we have here, it’ll be a long ride.”
You feel like any lingering questions you may have is for later too. Everything that’s happened since they were apart will be spoken about one way or another. All the actions, thoughts. . . maybe even emotions.
“I dreamed of you.”
Later, you decide, getting on the helicopter with Adler’s help and you sitting next to him. Exhaustion hitting you immediately, from guarding in the tree for the longest, to the emotions you couldn’t help but feel when you shot Stitch, to the ones you felt when you spoke with Adler and just everything that’s happened to you since that day on the cliffs. And the reason why. Loyalty. I really am dangerous.
You fell victim to your exhaustion, head slumping over to Adler’s shoulder despite the noise of the chopper and him letting you when he glanced at your peaceful expression. Giving you a once over that you were strapped on tightly, pointedly ignoring three different gazes on him as he adjusted you more to his shoulder with his hand so you’d be more comfortable. The least he could do.
Adler thought of hallucinations that kept him sane in Laos, of dreams that could never be and nightmares that plagued him, of being inside his own mind while being deprogrammed and who he saw to help him guide him out.
It’s the least he could do. After everything he’s done.
Besides, Adler thought darkly as he took another glance at you and your sleeping face, there’s still Perseus to be dealt with. I’ll fucking rip them from the root.
One thing is for certain for the two of you, it’s how obsessive the two of you are.
After you awoke and gave report along with Adler to Hudson in the safehouse, and glances being shared between you two or stray touches but nothing further than that the next two days before you shared that they had to go to the WWII bunker in Verdansk due to important information being there that the Collective wanted—Adler nodded.
“Alright, Bell. Like old times. You’re with me.”
You huffed out your nose at the words but nodded anyways with a grim smile.
“Always, sir.”
Onto the next mission.
.
.
.
A/N: Sorry if this feels rushed, it wasn’t even supposed to be this long. And sorry about the no kiss! Didn’t think it would fit. Bell and Adler need more time for a relationship but I’m sure I planted enough seeds for you guys to fill in the lines yourselves that these two are both insane and obsessed—thankfully in Adler’s case—for each other. (He needs other obsessions. To be healthy. Or healthier.)
Maybe I’ll visit this universe again. Depends what they will do with Vanguard since they merged Adler, Woods, Mason, and Hudson into it somehow 💀
I had more of a fun time writing Perseus and Stitch than I thought. With the recent S6 trailer, my interest with Stitch grew exponentially. I can now see what everyone goes on about with him. That Outro revealed a lot to me about that man. Too bad he’s gone now. :/ And Perseus is nice to write too 💗 This was really fun!
Hope you guys enjoyed!
Tell me if you wish to be tagged or not to be tagged for all my works.
This is so magnificent! 💕💕💕I loved how you developed all the characters💗, it was nice to see some bell x stitch💕,Adler didn't catch Perseus, as always Hudson hating bell,mason is a love💖💖
“Now my life doesn't matter, do whatever you want, finish what you started on Renaissance Island, my transmission has been completed, I changed the world... in ways you can't even imagine”
A/N: Bottled beer is liquid hope and you love pictures.
Footnote: Translations at the bottom.
“Bell”
Second Life
08:16 | February 26, 1981
West Berlin, Anita Wronski Cafe
“Looks like you’ve met death in the face, Bell. Rough night?” Lazar questioned, poking fun as they grabbed breakfast for everyone in line.
You rubbed your eye before pinching between your brows.
“Something like that,” you said tiredly as you looked around the small cafe. Distantly taking note of Lazar’s statement with a dry smirk. “Didn’t sleep well.”
Small metal tables inside with metal chairs to match, both with interesting swirls for patterns making up the surfaces. There were more outside, the cafe a bit cramped in the first place even with just three tables again the wall. The smell of sweet German pastries and salty breakfast flooded your nose, making you lick your lips despite yourself not being hungry yet.
You were already up an hour beforehand, wondering to yourself how you and Adler could be in the car once more into the safehouse. Only to ‘volunteer’ when Lazar knocked on your door to help him grab food for everyone, apparently Adler already gone and left to the safehouse.
You internally frowned at that, you’re not sure why before you felt grateful. You would rather not talk about. . .whatever happened in his car. Which was nothing.
The flash of a clenched hand on the wheel as if holding back and a taut jaw came to the forefront of your mind.
Marionette’s should stick with their role.
It was nothing.
Lazar snorted, making you turn towards him as they both stepped up to the cashier. Lazar pointing towards the dessert window of what to get in a box as you spoke in German to the woman. Several more items of breakfast were ordered that will take some time to make, so they moved to sit to the only open table inside the quaint café.
“You drunk what—four cups of coffee yesterday, Bell? And looking at a bunch of nonsense for hours as if your brain is steel and your eyes can’t melt out of your head.” What a nice vision. Lazar took a sip of the German coffee he got for himself, eyes lighting up at the taste before looking back at you. “All that must’ve been stuck in your head and probably even in your dreams. Had any floating codes flying around your mind as you slept by any chance?”
That’s not quite right, but you’ll take the excuse handed to you as you shrugged. Lifting your own cup of coffee that you doused in three creams and two sugar’s, humming for a moment in agreement to Lazar at the strong and bold taste before taking another one.
“You can say that. I would have kept going and working until I got tired. You would call me a night owl so to say.”
“You seem pretty alright to me now,” Lazar observed as he leaned back in his chair.
“I have an impressive work ethic. Better than others I think. I’m used to going to sleep late and waking up early.” You can infer that your body is used to this schedule, harsh and strict work ethic that you must’ve gotten when you worked with Perseus. “Although, I admit I’m not very hungry right now. You chose a bad partner in this.”
“But you volunteered,” Lazar stared ever so seriously and another sip to his coffee. You could see he was fighting a smile.
You huffed through your nose, shaking your head.
“Yes. How could I have forgotten. Like I did for Kraus.” Lazar slightly winced at the reminder of how you got kidnapped, muttering an apology which you waved away. “It’s fine. I was the best to do that anyways.”
“You sure are pretty accepting with all this work. Just asking and taking files like nothing, ” Lazar rose a brow, you couldn’t tell if it was for being impressed or disbelief. You didn’t say anything to that, the both of you just sipping on their coffee and waiting for their meals to take to the car before heading back to work. You’ll walk past the center table easily and just sit in your chosen desk. Maybe get a lecture about professionalism which you will just absently nod at since you will make yourself feel numb if you have to, just to get away from the man in any way. Lazar paused at your far away look, your cup by your mouth yet you’re not drinking, instead of looking at a simple framed painting of Germany’s hills at the wall. ". . .As much as the boss man likes to act like it, we're not machines,” you blinked out of your reverie, your eyes flicking towards Lazar. “You're not either. Even though you understand numbers with little pattern and words that would have no connection normally—be able to put it together and have it make sense."
You blinked once more, albeit slower.
"I...I know I'm not a machine."
"Do you? Acting like you don't sleep and eat, besides those seeds of yours like you're a bird yesterday outside of the one meal I brought you. Do you sing too?" You released a surprised laugh at that, short as it was with lips still up. "That's better. Thought your lips stay flat like that. I swear, it seems both you and Adler are obsessed with Perseus. See why you're his protege now."
You were struck at Lazar’s words, focusing on him with a frown. The implications that the both of you were similar making you look down.
“Guess we're two peas in a pod.”
You mumbled the last bit, as if to yourself as you lowered your cup on the table.
"What? Oh. . .guess you could say that. But remember this Bell," He throws a pastry at you as you quickly catch it before it met your face(you would always have to be prepared for that before), blinking down at your hands before looking at the kind faced Lazar. "Lighten up. We'll get him so don't push yourself so much. And eat real food too! Seeds! As if that's food."
Your mind showed you moments from your previous life, Lazar always teasing and making you eat and try as much as different food as possible. Away from your decryption tasks as he would wave your plate under your nose as if to entice you.
“No point in being greedy,” The kind man would say, wry smile playing his lips with a tone to match, after letting you try food from his plate, even encouraging it. “Memories—memories with food should be savored and light and new dishes should be enjoyed.”
You thought of when you first found out the truth, still recovering from wounds of Cuba as you sat—away, away from that gurney—and guilt with Lazar—should’ve been quicker, perhaps you would’ve been kinder, kindness is a lie—and asking Park if Lazar knew. About you. About this. MK-Ultra. Everything.
You stared at the Israeli man for a moment before smiling, a mischievous thing. Genuine. Like the man in front of you.
"I am smaller than you, it's enough for me."
"Now you're just poking fun."
Lazar was always kind.
Oh, how he played his role perfectly for you.
At this point, you’ll take what you can get and stop wondering with him. You’ll go mad.
Foolish американский щеноk. The collar around your neck has choked all the trust for others in you.
Best, you think as Lazar easily teased you again, an unreadable look in your eyes as you take another sip of your drink. To just not feel at all.
The breakfast the both of you ordered came, Lazar grabbing the bag as movement behind the counter caught your eye. A worker bringing in a new dessert towards the other German sweets, yellow and round and looking spongy similar to a cake but with a crust like a pie. You walked back up to the counter, pointing and asking the worker in fluent German what was that. Her replying with a smile that it is their pineapple kasekuchen, the German’s take in a cheesecake.
You turned your gaze to the sweet, lost in thought before raising your hand with two fingers up to order, the worker nodding.
You grabbed the box and walked up to the curious Lazar by the door, his brow arched as if asking a silent question. As the both of you exited the bakery and walked towards the car, you still not saying anything and only periodically glancing down at the box with the kasekuchen, even tightening your grip a tad around it when the crowd around them got a little too close, Lazar decided to speak.
“You know,” he began, and you took note that he sounds amused. Almost knowing. You pretended to stay oblivious. “There was this mission I was on in Thailand with Adler a few years back.” At the mention of Thailand, your memory of yesterday in Adler’s car still fresh, you looked towards Lazar as they walked. “Something covert and recon with the usual stray chance of a suicide bomber. The standard for our great unpredictable job. Keeps us in our toes.” His tone was a mix of sarcasm and easygoing, as if suicide bombing in a country was like if he stated it’s going to rain again. Where is he going with this? “Anyways, when we weren’t doing that—we’d stop at this corner store near the safehouse we were in. Boss man would always buy his precious cigarettes, leaves the other stuff we need to actually sustain us to me. Except, he would get something else too. To eat and I always thought each time I saw that, that Adler is human after all.” He glanced down at you, one brow raised. “Do you happen to know what it is?”
You huffed, turning your head away. Them reaching the car and you going to the passenger side as Lazar stood by the driver’s side—still unopened and leaning his crossed arms on the top of the car.
“You sure like playing games today,” you dodged with quirked lips, shuffling the box in your hands to hold it in one as you moved your free one to open the door. “Volunteering me again and calling me a bird and now having me guess what a man like Adler would get besides his addiction. You want to talk about machines, look at him.”
How the puppet lies so so sweetly.
Lazar hummed, deciding to open the car and the both of you going in and settling as they placed the bags down by you to make sure none of it spills. After they pulled out from the space, Lazar spoke once more, offhandedly and an interesting turn of the lips.
“Pineapples sure are sweet and tart. Pretty good too.”
You don’t say anything.
Just made sure your hold on all the boxes of food for everyone didn’t tip over as Lazar would turn. If your grip with the kasekuchen was firmer than the others, you didn’t notice.
Feed the god and you might get a reward.
✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ◁ ◁ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯
You squinted behind your closed eyes, shifting in your uncomfortable sitting position in the foxhole with only dirt and soil to help cushion you within the trench like pit. The crickets were loud, deafening in the jungle with a periodic squawk or call from a bird deep within. You shifted, your M-16 moving down in your lap from the movement despite your lucky green cloth gloves holding it as you blearily opened your eyes, blinking them against the darkness until they got used to it. The half moon helping somewhat in giving light as well as the fireflies flying around in the dance where only they heard the music.
They were still on their way to Hue City, night coming upon them quicker than expected. The jungles are harsh and thick, especially with the route they’re taking due to their stealth and recon mission, but the planned route was still underestimated. It did not help the planned foxhole they were going to got covered, completely useless and the time to make another one is time they don’t have. Luckily, they were able to find another, although this one was tighter. Two small foxholes that barely fit the five of you, hence having to sit basically in a ball against the wall of dirt behind you.
All of you were doing one hour intervals in keeping watch, the watcher usually standing up in the foxhole in order to watch their surroundings. And if an attacker did come, they could duck within the foxhole for cover.
You felt like you should’ve woken up for your shift already.
Your eyes focused next to you, finding the spot where Larson was supposed to be standing empty. You hastily stood, pack heavy against your back as it tensed in protest at the sudden weight, your hands tight against the M-16 and about to call the other’s names at the missing soldier only to stop.
Your standing position giving you new access to see more besides the sky above you, surrounded by brush and green foliage of all types with high grass upon the ground. Larson sat, just a few inches away from the foxhole a little to your right, staring up in the starlit sky. He turned his head towards you at the sound, seeing you were awake before turning his head back, as if you weren’t there.
“Larson,” you whispered, not wanting to wake up the others in the foxhole next to yours. When Larson didn’t move so the two of you could switch, you reached out to tug on his pack on his back. “You can’t be out in the open like this. You don’t know if VC or NVA might come by in the area.”
“Let them,” Larson said brazenly but just as low, making you release his pack in surprise. “Besides, there’s a bunch of shit around here to cover us. Even this grass is kinda covering my face. Nothing will happen. Now, go back to sleep and leave me be.”
You stared, before sighing. Carefully looking around once, twice, before coming out of the foxhole as quietly as you could—using the open holes on the dirt walls to place your feet to get out. You sat by Larson, who ignored you and went back to staring up at the twinkling sky.
You took a moment to stare at it too. This far in the boonies, away from cities and cars and just filled with wildlife, it has a sort of bewitching air around it. Despite the loud chirp of the crickets, the call of the birds, and how one would sometimes have to smack any open skin for stubborn mosquitos—the trees, the grass, all the greenery that looked dark in the night outside of being lit by the fireflies and the stars and moon above. You were struck once more, just how beautiful this country was. With it’s natural serenity as the moonlight not covered by clouds touched lightly upon to aid somewhat with the darkness but not as much as a flashlight would do, still, the moon did its best even if it was just at it’s half tonight. The stars were there to support it and you wish you learned more about constellations than your books, you’re sure you could spot all of them and weave stories of your own instead of reading them.
“You know,” your attention shifted to Larson, who still gazed up as he spoke, lost in thought and appearing away from here as he spoke quietly. He does not wish to wake the others it seems. “I don’t know if you remember me telling you this, but I grew up on a farm. Small. Not very fancy and it was just me and my family—Ma, Pa, and my two brothers and sister. Out just taking care of our cattle and our horses. Middle of nowhere, we would have to drive about an hour to get to a good grocery store that isn’t just a corner store or gas station. I hated it more that the closest school was about the same length. . . But what could I do? Needed an education, at least some, and than spend the rest of my life worried about a farm. With all it’s cow and horse shit, waking up before the sun does and at the end of the day you smell like all the shit you cleaned up.” He ended, sounding tired and yet with the bitter words it had an iota of equal bitter amusement.
You maintained your silence, instead moving your gaze back and forth around them. Not looking at how Larson’s lips quirked begrudgingly, head tilted up towards the silent night.
“. . .there were a few good things though. When me and my brothers and sister were done with work, and the moon was out—we’d head out to where the cattle were. Laying down on the grass without a care, why bother? We were already dirty with sweat and dirt and shit. And we’d look up—and than—“ Larson reached an arm out, as if to reach the sky, only to clench his hand and put it down back by his lap before gripping his MP40 hard where you could spot how white his knuckles were. “. . .laying down, in the grass, in the middle of nowhere, with just a dark black sky over you. . .it felt like it could swallow us. Whole. Not caring about how we looked or smelled or how old we were. . .it made us feel small. Yet huge. If we pretended enough, we could act like we can really touch the moon. The stars. I guess it just showed all of us there was more, than this little farm. With it’s shit and it’s smell and being in the middle of nowhere. The black sky might just eat us to put us out of our childish misery. Maybe that’s also why we kept going back, not just cause of fucking beautiful it was, but maybe. . .”
Larson trailed off and you decided to speak up, softly. Not wishing to break this odd aura around them, because this was more than talking about how small a human’s life is.
“‘If you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you,’” you quoted, Larson cocking his head slightly and glancing at your from the corner of his eyes. You released a small fleeting smile. “It’s a quote. By a German philosopher called Friedrich Nietzsche. A depressing guy but. . . I feel like his words fit. The abyss swallowing. . . perhaps it is more you become one with it. A fusion. Where you don’t know where you begin and the abyss ends.”
Larson turned his head away, grabbing a handful of some grass and pulling as he moved his eyes back up.
“Who knows? Maybe. . . shit,” Larson dryly chuckled, “maybe, I should’ve stuck with staring up at my family’s farm home—staring up this abyss right here but there instead. Than maybe. . .you know, I would say sappy shit in my letters to her?” You didn’t ask who ‘her’ was, you could fill in the blanks as you wisely kept silent. “All words about the moon and stars and we were staring at the same one so I wasn’t that far away cause we stared up at the same thing’s. That she had stars in her eyes and if I looked up, I could see her in them. That she pulled me to her like the moon does water and just—shit. Fuck. ”
Larson hissed, putting his head to his hands. His shoulders slightly shook, you could barely tell in the darkness but you imagine he is holding himself back.
“I loved her,” Larson said, voice all cracked and broken as his breath hitched. “I love her still. And she’s—she’s leaving. What will I have when I come back? Go back? I—there’s nothing. We were. . .I went to war for her . Our country .”
You kept your mouth shut. Letting him release his sorrow and emotionally charged words that made zero sense such as that. You learned, especially on the beach night, it is not wise to depend on another’s support when it comes to actions of war.
You didn’t even give Larson the full quote earlier either. You do not think he needed the full one, but you know yourself what Nietzsche was going for. You think Adler might like it actually.
Eventually, you managed to put Larson back into the foxhole as you took watch by him. Standing in the foxhole as you did your shift. A few minutes officially in however, you took note of noise in the foxhole next to you. You turned your head, noticing Adler’s head was out, helmet on and war paint slightly losing their color. You can see his stubble starting to really come in now. He had his shades on, even at this time, in this darkness—but you could tell he was staring at you. Something clicked as you lightly sighed.
“How much of that did you hear?”
“Enough.”
You nodded, turning your eyes around their surroundings with your M-16 in front of you and gripped at the ready just in case.
“You left something out,” Adler said after a while, voice low to not wake the others that it sounded husky to your ears. You glanced at him, brow raising questioningly as Adler’s lips lifted to a knowing smirk. “I don’t know much, but my high school education isn’t too laughable I think. I know that quote. You missed the whole beginning and just gave him the end.”
You blinked, before shrugging as you peered up at the sky for a moment.
“He didn’t need the beginning. Just the end.”
“Some might call that yellow journalism. Or lying.”
“Others might call it wise,” you retorted lightly. “He didn’t need to know it. It wouldn’t have helped. So why give it? Besides, we know it. We’re the only type of people who need it.”
Adler hummed, whether it was in agreement or in thought, you couldn’t tell. You took note of him shifting, hands a little fidgety around his M60 and you felt sympathy swell in you. He hasn’t been able to smoke since the start of this mission, having to be cautious with any type of smoke. You don’t know personally, but you know that the craving for cigarette’s were mind consuming if you did not have one to quell it. Perhaps this conversation was a welcome distraction.
You wonder if this night is just you going to be playing silent therapist.
“Do you think Larson should’ve heard it?”
Adler answered as he kept his dutiful watch around, him facing the area behind you as you focused in front.
“No. He just needed someone to listen. Poor bastard should ask for R&R after this. I’ll grant it to him, maybe he could go to Australia and just wind down there for a week.” He scratched at his face, the war paint surely feeling a little off since he first put it on. “Forget about all this. All of it. The States. The war. He needs it. Hell, we all do.”
Your lips formed a teasing smile.
“Even shadows and monsters need a smoke?”
Adler chuckled easily.
“Everyone needs a smoke as far as I’m concerned. Maybe less people will act like they’re one push away till they make a shitstorm the rest of us need to clean up. But sure, kid, ” he half shrugged, focusing on the sky above with all its celestial like bodies. “Larson might’ve been onto something though with what he was saying.”
“Which part?”
Adler chose silence as his answer, staring up for another moment or two before huffing and turning his attention back onto the ground.
The two of you stayed guarding for a few more moments. You didn’t bother asking Adler why he was up and you had this watch, just like how he didn’t seem to bother to order you to go to sleep. You felt like once more, there was an understanding between you two. Still though, it didn’t stop you from the question bubbling in your throat.
“Since you know the quote,” Adler hummed lightly, showing he was listening. “What do you think Nietzsche was referring to, that the reader itself hasn’t fought with other monsters yet or from experience because he is a monster to not have other’s fight him?”
Adler scoffed quietly, amused.
“Just cause I know the quote doesn’t mean I constantly wonder about it’s meaning, Bell.”
“Humor me.”
“I thought I told you earlier I’m not here to spoil you.” You threw him a sheepish grin, Adler sighing and shaking his head as his expression turned inquisitive with how he pressed his lips together for a moment. “It’s a warning. That’s how I always saw it. But it’s not one we need like you said earlier, kid. We don’t need it.”
You didn’t ask anymore. Because as you thought more into it, he was right.
Nietzsche wrote a warning, to the innocent reader and the oblivious society that put emphasis on morals and truth that he did not agree with.
‘Battle not with monsters, lest you become a monster. And if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes into you.’
Monsters do not fret about what they already are. Just as they are not worried if the abyss ends with them or if it begins.
“Get ready, kid.” Adler said much later as they all slowly woke the others up to move, his eyes squinting behind his glasses as he stared past the trees, the bushes, and the greenery as the beginning of dawn started to rise. “It’s going to be a shit show in a few hours.”
✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ▷ ▷ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯
“Bell”
Second Life
14:02 | February 26, 1981
CIA SAFEHOUSE E9, “DIE LANDEBAHN”
You see yourself as one with patience.
When it comes to this sort of line of work, it is required. A sort of fortitude and composure that not all can be able to acquire but must be needed for this—for lives at stake based on whether you can put up an act or have the tact of an eagle capturing a snake, all sharp claws and silent feathers against the hissing strike. ты хочешь быть американцем товарищ.
“The two most powerful warriors are patience and time,” as said by one one of your favorites, Leo Tolstoy, from one of the best works in history: War and Peace.
You recall last time—stop clinging, you stupid dog—when you stood outside the safehouse in the cold with your head to the book, Adler stepping out and taking note of your book with a cocked brow. Stating his surprise at your book choice as you mumbled something or other as you read, that it is an integral book. You even stating the same quote back to him, a surprise to you when Adler didn’t know of it. Listening as you explained it with a flick of his lighter and calm inhales and exhales of his addiction, showing off where the quote was as he leaned in slightly. Your heart pounding as his warmth was felt without even touching, than a brush of his shoulder to your back as he drew closer. Than it was gone.
“All grim thoughts and wise words with you, eh Bell?” Amused. A fleeting turn of the lips that stayed longer and a gaze that lingered as he stared through you under those shades. “Make sure you take a breather when you raise your nose for air from your books. Can’t do this without you.”
He would tease, but didn’t stop you from taking your reading breaks outside for fresh air. And he’d always ask, curiosity in his expression when you’d show him a line each time. You thought it was special. Their own little thing where you would raise your book and he would lean to you and they would touch.
“Bell, open the door.”
It was just cruel kindness.
Patience, you are using it to your fullest. You can do what you must and see if your actions can work up to something—all your effort and hard work being seen as a good little tool.
Though, time—time is something you may not have. Unless you make sure you’re loyal.
You were quick to drop off the breakfast on the center table, ignoring Adler’s rose brow as you moved. The pineapple kasekuchen in their rightful place. You avoided and didn’t speak outside a quick “good morning” to everyone else and went to work, breakfast by you whenever you got truly hungry.
You didn’t think about why you bought the dessert. Outside the rationalization it shows your loyalty. Perhaps a peace offering to ignore what happened the night prior. You didn’t think much about that at all.
американский щеноk.
Until he called you over to his desk with a wave of his hand, your chest thundering with your eyes wide as you wondered if he’ll say anything. Take you aside in private to talk. About last night or the sweet, you’re not sure. Only for him to motion for you to sit, tapping his knuckle against the file on the desk. You took note the box of the kasekuchen wasn’t there anymore(must’ve already ate it or threw it away) as you blinked, slowly sitting in the seat across from him as he slid the file towards you as he asked your opinion on it.
You scanned, mind wandering and flying, before you glanced up at him. His favorite mahogany leather over him that is second skin, a lighter shade of blue for his collared shirt today under him and his mouth free of a cigarette as well as his hands. Those aviators still on his head, a part of him. Sort of like the beanie—ski—mask over your head as he looked down at another report in front of him. As if he didn’t call you over from your desk to his to help with a file when he could’ve just left it on your desk. As if you didn’t cross a line—you always cross the line, over, behind, or creating a completely new one to do what you must like he does whatever it takes but it was wrong, you are no saint, pitiful mutt—yesterday with your words and questions.
A hand reached towards the file in front of you, knuckle tapping twice, more force this time.
You focused back on the file, only to see Adler already took his hand back. Continuing to read as he patiently waited for your consensus on the file before you.
You were struck than how he’ll handle this, understanding dawning on you as your gaze focused and turned to the file below you and picking it up.
If he wishes to pretend as if it never occurred, it’s fine with you. It’s best either way for both of you. You have too many worries already, Adler included. Best to leave certain things out your mind about the man lest you’ll get clouded. You’re trying to survive. Not get caught up in and tangled in mind games.
You spotted in the corner of your eye Adler give a ghost of a nod, the tiniest tip of the head, imperceptible to others but you knew. He gave a similar one when you captured Volkov, walking up to you with a calm swagger and gloved hands around his weapon, as he moved his head in approval. Such a good girl to be happy with just a nod. Satisfied. He’s satisfied. He knows you understood. Understood him.
“You know me too well.”
“Guess we’re two peas in a pod.”
“I need Bell.”
You raised the file closer, over your mouth formed in a subconscious echo of a pleased smile. You didn’t even feel it. Nor did you feel electric blue eyes behind shades glance towards you before turning back to his work—the silent agreement to keep what happened last night to themselves written and signed without the two of you having to open your mouths.
Coward, you wanted to snarl. To who, you’re not sure. You just focused on what Adler gave you. You’ll need to have Adler let you live so you’ll need to not just be a perfect asset to the others but a person to him.
You have to do what you must.
“Damaged goods.”
You have to.
“You remembered.”
You flicked your eyes towards him, file momentarily forgotten. He didn’t look up from his own file, continuing to read it with the expression he always has when concentrated—a hint of pressed lips that reveals his dimples and brows lowered than usual where it would be difficult to see due to his shades. You would think that mania has truly taken a hold of you, with it’s dark tentacles filled with dark thoughts and mental anguish or rather slithering and multiplying vines where Lykourgos grew mad due to Dionysus’ vengeance except for you it is with choking collars and stifling leashes and cutting strings. He looked as if he didn’t speak at all. All the quiet focus of a war hardened CIA agent that didn’t have a ring on his finger but was married to his job with a badge to show all the same.
But you knew his voice. As if it was your own.
“We’ve known each other for years.”
“Fought together. Bled together. Been through Hell in Vietnam together.”
“We got a job to do.”
“ B e l l, o p e n t h e d o o r . ”
The poor американская сука loves pain like a drug.
“I wasn’t sure what you would,” Adler spoke again, your eyes focusing on him once more. His head still was tilted down and a little to the side, shades facing the paper but you believed he glanced towards you. “The coma did a number on you with your memories. I know you’ve been saying it’s only been about Vietnam but you never specified about what. Or if you happened to remember anything else.” He didn’t state it like a question but he might as well have.
Of course he would ask. Why wouldn’t he?
Nonetheless, you knew what he was referring to in his earlier statement. He ate them. You picked up your file with a small huff.
“Hard to forget, Adler. Of course I would remember. You would hold those cans like a lifeline,” your lips lifted at the memories, of Adler trading with others if he must to get his precious golden ambrosia that would appease him similar to his cigarettes. You kept your lips up despite the quick recall the memories were fake—the trading of trash, the quiet understanding to not speak of it, of beautiful Vietnam foliage and unforgettable talks—just as you glanced at him and continued easily. “Glad you liked them. Wasn’t sure if you would. As for other memories. . . it’s still only been with Vietnam. I haven’t gotten anything else.” Adler hummed, cocking his head a tad before your lips formed more of a smile that you felt. “But at least I still know what I like or don’t. Can’t imagine a clean slate.”
“That’s normal,” Adler said, shades now facing you as you somewhat hid your face with the file. The only thing him being able to see fully was your eyes. “Learn how to calm down and that you can’t take all these shots like you’re a target in a shitty gun range. Might remember more.”
You found yourself snorting, rolling your eyes. Finding dark amusement at his words despite yourself. Perhaps you are growing insane.
“Based on what you told me in the hospital, you would’ve had some holes instead.” The way you said it, it sounds like you still believe it. Like it was real. Dance puppet, dance. You turned up your lips into a semblance of a smirk as you looked over the file towards him. You maintained it even though you think the both of your eyes connected despite the shades hiding. “You don’t have to worry, Adler. I got your back. Always. A few shots is nothing.”
It’s what you would’ve said before. It scares you how much you meant it previously. As if your life was forfeit if it came to having Adler live longer. Nothing else would matter as long as he lived. Nothing. As if the world would come to an end if he fell—the only one that could hold it and keep it straight.
Perhaps he is Atlas after all. . .
The loyal dog with the pretty collar will always protect the master.
Cursed due to his cruelty.
What are you, Russell Adler?
Adler stared at you for a moment, as if assessing your words. Scrutinizing them. He than reached into his jacket, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. Once he did the first drag and released his puff, away from you as you observed the smoke curl around them, he looked back down to the papers on the desk.
“How lucky am I that I got you around than, kid,” he replied, all low and earnest as he took another drag. “Just don’t go dying on me. Can’t have Sims talk to his shrink about something else. He’d be heart broken.”
Adler said that sentence a little louder, so it was no surprise that Sims by the desk put down his magazine and called out.
“I resent that!”
Adler’s lips twitched in response, but kept his gaze down as your heart thundered.
You thought of an explosion to the chest, your heart open and bare for more reasons than you planned. Of soft words to your ear that sounded like regret and something else as you coughed. Of a gentle touch that held you up, hands wandering from your waist to your stomach—stopping just short of a bleeding chest as if they wanted to stop the red—redredredredred—from flowing out but hesitated. An encircling of arms that released heat as you grew cold—you don’t like the cold much anymore—while an expression was carefully guarded with eyes hiding behind a shaded curtain.
You felt your throat tighten. The need for answers to unanswered questions reaching a head.
“Just Sims?” you asked softly, a little breathless and a little confused at said breathlessness.
He glanced up, aviators slightly down and you could barely see his eyes as he exhaled a puff, eyeing you. You staring as his brow lifted for a moment before it settled, an interesting look in your eyes that one might call forlorn. And something else that is dangerous and not meant for monsters who are better alone.
“Maybe another life, kid.”
Mind thine eyes dog, for they show you yearn the impossible.
“You know the answer, Bell. Everyone would be,” Adler leaned slightly back in his chair, cigarette between his fingers in his customary hold between his ring and middle finger. “You’re part of the team. What kind of question is that?”
“You’re still one of us.”
He knows what he’s doing. Just as he knows what you mean.
You bit the inside of your cheek, looking down with squinting eyes at the file. Your hand making it a little wrinkle and you don’t know what you expected. What you’re expecting. He hurts. He pretends. Why would he even answer truthfully when he can dodge and feel less guilt about a hole in you caused by his hand?
He’s—
You felt a nudge against your knee, you looking up in shock with a quick inhale at the unexpected touch. It staying there—his knee, he’s touching you—as you watched Russell tilt his head at you, brow up and lips quirked with a cigarette around it and looking wry and relaxed—what is this, why, what could this be for, why is he doing acts that are pointless yet mean everything when he could just be distant, you are getting worked up over just knees touching, you touch starved little thing—as he motioned his head an iota to the left. Your eyes following the movement to see Park where she was, nearby with her desk and a headphone to one ear but the other still able to listen in despite how naturally quiet you and Adler are with your soft voice and Adler’s low tone.
Park? What does she have to do with anything? And why would Adler of all people care?
You frowned, only for your lips to flatten in realization of her words to you about Adler. To stay away. You now wonder if she did a similar warning to him.
“Insanity breeds insanity as they say.”
You wonder if the pissing match that was imperceptible and the slight tension was more than just two agencies trying to come to an accord.
But why would Park warn Adler?
You glanced back at Adler, who gave a half shrug as if to answer your silent question. It only raised more. You moved your knee back closer to your form and Adler didn’t react as you did so. The both of you turning back to the files that Adler requested your assistance.
Not thinking in the back of your mind of fleeting touches, lingering looks, or a voice to your pounding ear that tinged with remorse even though you couldn’t see his face.
✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ◁ ◁ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯
You and Park just recently finished going through the report you and Woods got from Ukraine. Sims and Lazar were in the back rooms where the gun range was while Park was in the Red Room. Last you checked, Adler was still in his office with a call while Mason and Woods were by the weight lifting equipment and taking turns to work off some steam due to what was discovered. You were putting the findings up on the evidence board with tacks, careful to not stab yourself. You wouldn’t be as concerned if you were wearing your gloves which you put away earlier by your bunk bed, but than again, you’re quite careful with your gloves. Not only because of the quality, but who got the leather gloves for you when you were just recently discharged out of the hospital back in the States.
You smiled, putting the last tack on the board only to have a sudden weight around your shoulders. You widened your eyes, briefly alarmed only to turn your head to see it was a smirking Woods.
“Done? Good! I’ve been holding off till now but it’s time to fucking see what you’re really made of Bell.”
You blinked, confused and still reeling at the fact you didn’t sense his approach at all. Your mind will zone out over the littlest of things lately. It concerns you. But it hasn’t been a problem so far out in missions, so you think it’s alright.
“And how exactly I’m going to do that? Thought I showed you enough back in Ukraine.”
At that, Woods laughed as he basically tugged you to where Mason was, who was shaking his head at his friend and shooting you an apologetic look as you just smiled that you were okay with it. Their van door open in the back as well as a table and chairs in front. You took note of the packs of beer and you see what Woods meant as he sat by Mason in the van on the floor, you sitting down and observing as Woods took a hefty gulp of a beer.
“I think I know now. But,” you glanced to where Adler’s office was, “is this wise? Isn’t Hudson coming over here soon?”
Woods slammed his beer down, causing some of it to come out as Mason sighed at the wastefulness.
“Man, fuck Hudson!” Woods wiped his chin harshly, irritation coloring his features. “I want to forget about that nutsack for the rest of the day. When he comes, he better not say shit or I’ll punch him again. Maybe with that shit will stop coming out his mouth.”
Mason chuckled, having his own beer in his hand as his eyes wandered to his longtime friend, shifting as he got comfortable in his seat.
“How’s the hand?”
Woods scoffed.
“Pfft. Nothing fancy,” Woods looked at said hand, clenching it as he moved to crack his knuckles as he grinned wildly. “Ready enough, like I said, if Hudson says something smart.” He punched his fist against his hand, muscles flexing noticeable despite his jacket as you couldn’t help but laugh along with Mason.
“I still can’t believe you punched him yesterday,” you spoke up, shaking your head in disbelief. You can’t even imagine anyone punching the intimidating harsh man that is James Hudson. Soon after your discharge, you had to meet with him back in Langley for the mission before all this Perseus business—although you suppose supporting the Polish union Solidarity in fighting back communists have everything to do with Perseus. You don’t understand why the man seems to dislike you so much, especially if the two of you worked briefly before which you sadly can’t remember. He must always be like that with others, Woods doesn’t seem to like or appreciate Hudson’s icy countenance either way. You don’t quite appreciate the man’s secrecy about the nukes, so you see why. “If I even breathe the air wrong around him, I think I will be dead come morning. I don’t think I’m exaggerating.”
“You?” Woods asked, amused incredulity in his tone as he faced you. “The one who basically took out three Heavy’s by your lonesome? Scared of that ball face? You’re shitting me!”
Mason rose his brows as he turned towards you.
“You didn’t say that in the report. You holding out on us, Bell?”
“Right?! Now open a bottle and tell Mason here everything that happened.”
You rose a brow, amusement shining in your eyes, your hand moving to the pack of beer before stopping. The memory of the arcade room making you smile knowingly.
“Everything?”
Woods made a face, cheeks looking an interesting color that Mason caught as he nudged his friend with his elbow.
“What’s she talking about Woods?”
“Nothing! Jesus Christ Bell, didn’t know you could be a little shit like Adler can.”
The words bounced off you easily, already used to the man’s vulgar personality from the mission and even before the mission to go over details, as you shrugged, smirking as Mason kept pushing Woods on what happened as Woods would grumble or drink his beer to avoid answering. At Adler’s name however, you looked back at the office, slightly biting the inside of your lip.
Your breaks thus far outside of eating has just been reading your books or a quick game in the back room. Never for a drink like Lazar would do with Sims and Park at times. Adler, at least what you know of, hasn’t drunk and just has stuck with his cigarettes. You don’t even remember the last time you drank. All you know is that you like it.
But. . . you’re not sure if Adler would approve. You’re always focused on your work and great at it, he depends on you to maintain your focus to catch Perseus.
You subconsciously put your hand in your jacket, feeling the polaroid as you thought.
Woods noticed your apprehension and called out to you, you turning your head back.
“Whatcha fuckin’ worried about? You’ve been working all day from those codes and whatever the shit you put on the board. I don’t think Adler would want you to be worked dry where you don’t even think straight.”
“Only booze can do that,” Mason added helpfully.
Woods nodded, looking too serious it was almost comical since they were just trying to persuade you to drink.
“What he said.”
You took a moment before you shrugged, grabbing a beer and opening it as you stated that you guess you could drink with legends. Woods huffing at you, soon calling you cocky in realization as to why you made fighting Heavy’s not a big deal and not impressed with him. Mason seeming to find it funny as the three of you drank and talked about the mission more freely and colorful words with Woods. You did slightly flush when Woods told Mason you were a nerd for playing a quick game while there were Russians preparing for their training course, Mason snorting as you hushed them when Park grew near them. Not wishing for her to find out.
Quickly hiding it by inviting her to join just as Lazar and Sims came back, the two men seeming to easily join in as Park contemplated as she stared at the beer. With a sigh though, she sat by Lazar as she took one.
“Next time, I’m buying the alcohol here. You bought rubbish, Woods.”
“‘Rubbish?’ And beer is beer, nothing wrong with good ol cheap beer sometimes,” Woods defended. “Adds to the flavor.”
Lazar smiled, raising his bottle.
“Cheers to that.” Lazar and Woods tapped their bottles in the middle when they reached over, an easy aura settling between the group.
Sims got a bottle, assessing the name as well as the pack as he did a dog whistle.
“Germans know how to do one thing right, and that’s beer. You’ll be fine Park. It could be worse,” Sims took a drink, humming as he did so while Park frowned at her bottle when she took a few sips.
“Worse?”
“It could’ve been canned,” Mason answered, speaking from experience that made you raise a brow as you took a drink, settling further into your seat. “Canned cheap beer you can basically taste the metal. There was one time back in the States where I practically shitted myself due to this cheap beer I got at this random gas station in the middle of nowhere. Ruined my night.”
“And your pants it seems,” Lazar commented, mirth clear in his tone before he released a laugh along with Sims guffaw at the Israeli’s words. Park shaking her head but anyone can see her smile on her lips as Woods stated that’s what happens when you’re in “bumfuck nowhere” and probably got experimented with weird moonshine.
You snorted in surprise, covering your mouth as your imagination pictured the soldier rushing to the bathroom lest an accident happens. Mason? He seems so serious all the time, which you can understand why. You’ve read up what you could on everyone here, the description’s were small but you could fill in the lines. He’s lucky that he has such a good friend like Woods.
It soon became a trading of stories between everyone about drunk nights and how they reached that point, Lazar running with a bowl of chili and Woods determined to make condom water balloons and Sims was just finishing his own passed out in random deck chairs story when the door of the office opened.
You immediately turned towards where Adler now stood, staring at all of you as he closed the door and currently free of a cigarette. Your anxiety only grew when Adler turned his head towards you, as if he was asking you personally on the situation as you could only throw him an apologetic yet impish smile. Adler’s brow rose.
“Adler!” Woods called, raising a hand and motioning it for the man to come over. Adler approaching the group as you could only stare and tried to get a read on him. Alas, it was hard to discern his mind even if you could spot him glancing at everyone and the table with bottles. “Join us while there’s still beer left! Planning to drink all of this before Hudson comes. He can’t say anything if there’s no evidence.”
Adler hummed, stopping behind you and Sims as he appeared in thought. A trickle of hope coming up your chest at Woods offer.
“All of you are in luck,” Adler eventually answered, the subtle amused tone not lost on you as you intently focused on it. “Hudson isn’t coming till early in the morning tomorrow. Got caught up with something with Black. Can’t imagine how he would react if he saw all this.”
“Fuck ‘im,” Woods spat, reaching for a bottle and throwing Adler one. Adler catching it with his hand, shaded eyes turning towards the bottle to read the label. “We’re not here to please his every whim and cater to him like we’re his butlers. I say it’s a perfect time to wind down. We were just trading stories of getting shit faced.”
“All of you were,” Park corrected easily, “I don’t plan on sharing any such event.”
“Never say never, Park,” Lazar said, a grin playing on his lips as he winked at the British woman. “I’m sure a lady like you has quite a collection of stories.”
“A lady never says her secrets.”
You were still staring up at Adler as Sims playfully groaned at Lazar’s flirt tactics that Park didn’t seem to mind, Adler tilted his head down and met your eyes. Seeming to assess before turning his gaze towards the evidence board, which now had additional papers than previously since he entered the office, assessing. He than turned back towards you, you impatiently waiting as you shifted in your seat to see if he would let all of you continue, his eyes seeming to follow when your hand went to your jacket pocket.
Adler released a huff of soft exasperation, a shadow of a smirk playing on his lips.
“Don’t see the problem. We can all use a break from all of this.”
You practically beamed as Woods whooped, you moving a seat over where you were now next to Woods. Adler taking your seat as he sat by Sims now, opening his bottle as he asked whose story they were on. Sims continuing it and finishing before Lazar had another one. You listening with a smile or laughter, feeling the most at ease since this whole mission started you think. You believe that Adler must feel the same way, appearing relaxed as he sat and leaned back against the chair, beer forgotten and customary cigarette on his lips as he listened.
It made you want to take a picture of this moment. You standing up and announcing to the others you’ll do just that, Woods raising a brow at you.
“You and pictures. You a photographer or something? I hope you’ll at least show me what pics you took of me instead of those Red’s building.”
Your cheeks felt heated as you turned towards Woods, standing over him with fists clenched by your side as you called his name, askance. Making the man laugh at your expression, your irritation leaving you due to it but you gave him a warning look and call of his name which he caught. Not wishing for you to say the story, as Adler watched nonchalantly.
“Pictures? Got distracted again, Bell?” He asked, almost sounding like a tease only for the others to join in that you really loved that camera. You pursing your lips and appearing like you were pouting, as you turned away and got the camera from the Red Room quickly. Taking the picture of everyone only for Woods to motion his hand for it to your bewilderment.
“What? Don’t you want one with you in it too?” Woods asked, grabbing the camera from your hands as he grinned up at you. Adler and Park glancing at each other behind you, Adler flapping his cigarette hand uncaringly in answer. Mason raising a brow at the exchange but staying silent as his eyes moved back towards his loud friend.
You didn’t think of that but you stated you wanted one with everyone than, Park raising her hand for the camera to do the setting for it to be timed and placing it on top of Sims car he was working on earlier. All of you turning your chairs slightly, getting close with beers in hand and you trying to maintain a perfect smile even with Adler’s knee touching yours. The camera flashed, you feeling something by your head only for you to lightly punch Woods shoulder once you saw he must’ve gave you bunny ears in the photo. Him laughing away as you fought your own smile, his rugged charm rubbing off on you as Adler inhaled quietly as he watched the exchange.
The stories than eventually moved to mission stories, and than, unsurprisingly—to Vietnam. At this point, Park and Lazar retired for the night—Sims eventually doing the same when he noticed it turned to Vietnam. Which left you, Mason, Woods, and Adler—Adler just finishing up the story about what happened in Hue City, leaving a few details out you noted but loyally and wisely kept silent, as Mason took it in with a slight nod of his head.
“So that’s what happened on your side. Shit. . . that whole place was a shit show since the beginning. Lucky I only had to do a quick in and out by just getting a dossier.”
Woods snorted, nursing his fifth beer.
“That whole war was a shit show. Only good thing that came out of it is telling stories about it years later in a depressed warehouse. While a whole other type of war is happening.”
At the mention of the reminder of them losing that war, you spoke up.
“Not the only thing,” you couldn’t help but say, lost in thought as you looked at the ground.
Adler turned his head towards you as Woods and Mason did the same, curious.
“And what’s that, kid?”
You kept your gaze down for a moment more before flicking your eyes to the side towards Adler.
Soon after you said your thoughts to Adler about the file, you moved to go back to your desk only to pause by the T.V. You turned back, Adler raising a curious brow as he put out his cigarette with his ash tray nearby. You asked him for any other files he may need help with, Adler saying nothing as he reached another file by him and handing it to you. You grabbed it, your black leather gloved hand grazing against his bare one as you took it. Taking note of what he said about it before turning to your desk and staying there. Ignoring a probing stare in the back of your neck.
You’ll do what you must, but if he expects you to stay by his side when he inconvenienced you earlier by making you come to him. . . Well, you think a little petty action is worth it.
Besides, you have to think by yourself for a moment. The call about Volkov squeaking his rat mouth should’ve came already. By nighttime—you, Adler, and Park should already be on the way to Ukraine and meet up with Woods and Mason.
Woods and Mason, you think fondly with a sad smile of a whirlwind of a man drinking back beer after beer like water with a deep throated laugh and the silent soldier with sad eyes yet listens attentively and a kind smile that brightens. Oh, I’ve missed you guys.
They were barely in the safehouse, out in missions constantly when you would decode and just being the team’s powerhouse duo. When they were here though, the safehouse was louder. More easy and free, less stifling and grim due to the work they were doing. They had a certain charisma very different than Adler’s, one’s that captured you in a different manner so it is no surprise you managed to get close and hang with them more than anyone when they were here. Sims being distant, Park communicating with MI6 about the CIA, Lazar determined to woo the agent when he wasn’t cleaning and prepping weapons, and Adler was. . .busy watching you were in line you suppose.
Card games and stories being shared, Woods and Mason not seeming to mind when you were around them. You suspect Woods let you get close to make sure you don’t tell his precious secret and blunder back in the arcade room in Ukraine. Although you would tease him that you might at times.
You feel like that in your other life, Park was right. You don’t think those two knew about your situation. It just made you like them more.
Because at least with them, you’re positive it was real.
“I knew I could count on you.”
You wished they were able to save you from Adler though. But they were tired and celebratory of what they accomplished. They took in Adler saying you and him were just taking a detour at face value.
“Do not trust Adler. He is lying to you.”
Adler always lies.
You have to remember that. And to just brush away any kindness he may show.
It’s not real.
Is it?
A loyal and trained dog through and through.
When you saw it was nearing 1700 hours, you looked around where Park was. Seeing she was with Adler in the corner by the weights, conversing with him with a crease in her brow while Adler looked as if he was only mildly taking note of her words as he puffed along his cigarette. A trait of his you knew frustrated the British woman. Adler likes to feign disinterest a lot. It could be seen as a weapon to make others talk due to how irritating it could be or make one cautious at how apathetic the man can act or look.
You walked over to them, your ears getting the tail end of whatever was ailing Park.
“—not making light of this and reign it in. Oh, Bell.” Park’s tone softened, a sharp contrast that stood out to you as she noticed you step up to them. Adler not even glancing at you as he continued his smoke, or at least not turn his head towards you. It’s dark in this corner so you wouldn’t be able to tell if he turned his eyes towards you or not unless he moved his head or body in your direction. “What’s wrong? Any new updates on the decryptions?”
You shook your head, looking between the two of them before settling on Park.
“What’s the word on Volkov? He talk yet?”
Park sighed.
“I’m afraid not. He’s proved himself stubborn despite his tastes being similar to what makes the U.K. great.”
You cocked a brow, a teasing smirk playing on your lips.
“Medieval torture devices not his style?” You asked, calling back to what Park said about Volkov’s hobbies.
Park matched you, amused as she shrugged lightly.
“I believe the lack of scotch is what will do him in personally.”
“He has to talk soon,” Adler cut in, exhaling a puff as you and Park turned towards him. Adler faced Park, arching a brow as he continued calmly. “Your guys over there aren’t giving him a good time right now, I imagine. The last thing we need is for him to be tight lipped.”
Your throat turned dry. You think you regret mentioning this as Park answered.
“He’s not the type to remain loyal if his back is to the wall. His selfish demeanor and arrogance will what cause him to try to strike a deal with us. It will benefit us than him in the end once he breaks.”
“If he breaks,” Adler added with a frown. “If he still doesn’t talk by the next two days, we might as well have killed him once we saw him. He’s useless.”
“She’s of no use to us anymore.”
You swallowed, moving to pocket your hands in your black bomber jacket as your hands clenched along with your jaw.
Park frowned at Adler, disapproving.
“He knows a great many things. Not everyone can handle interrogation for so long and be able to stay silent about anything that might give them reprieve.”
Oh, look, you thought sourly, bitterness starting to rise once more as you maintained your blank expression besides your taut jaw. They’re complimenting me. How nice of them to say I wasn’t easy for them.
Control your tongue, you stupid dog.
Adler huffed, it almost sounding like one mixed with amusement and exasperation as he shook his head slightly.
“Perseus’ people are almost as slippery and conniving as Perseus himself. And dangerous.” Adler took another inhale and exhale, the smoke curling around them and going over your head as your gaze lazily followed it to distract yourself while Adler did the same, tipping his head up to watch. “Perhaps he knows if he talks, he might as well be dead. We don’t need an Aldrich in the MI6 either.”
Park’s demeanor straightened at Adler’s accusation, the possibility of having a traitor or spy in her agency a great insult. She was about to say a scathing retort surely, but you cut her off.
“He’ll talk,” you say cooly, unreadable gaze towards Adler as he finally turned his head in acknowledgement towards you.
“What makes you so sure?” He asked, curiosity lacing his tone along with intrigue as he moved to place his cigarette for another puff.
You straightened your shoulders as you stared deep into his aviators that shadowed him properly to be America’s Monster.
“They all eventually do.”
Adler paused his hand, lips not around his craving as he stared towards you. Both your gazes not breaking even as Park looked between the two of you before settling with staring at Adler with slightly narrowed eyes.
Adler pressed his lips, a whisper of a smirk as he did it and nodded towards you once more before turning back towards Park.
“You hear that, Park? No reason to worry. Everyone talks. Right, Bell?”
“Yes, sir.” You say, ignoring how your stomach churned yet your heart pounded. You’re no saint. “We both know how to make them.” You slipped out, knowing eyes not leaving his face as you twisted a knife.
Adler didn’t seem to notice, or care really as he seemed to throw Park a mildly triumphant look. You don’t know why it would. You wouldn’t either and can care less about those you tortured—whether false or real.
Monsters do not worry over every drop in the red ocean they created.
Y o u’r e n o s a i n t, д е м о н.
✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ▷ ▷ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯
You had headphones in, listening to the audio log to finish up the decryption despite the lack of other Intel so you could put all your focus on Operation Red Circus. Instead of the exchange earlier, all of them.
So you didn’t hear when the garage door opened and a van to come in, but you did when it got slammed closed. You jumped in your seat in the corner on your desk, hidden behind the evidence board and the T.V. You lowered your headphones, curious to see what was going on and if Sims brought in another car, only for your breath to hitch in your throat. You standing up so quick your chair almost fell back as you stood next to the T.V., heart thundering only for it to stop as you stared avidly, wildly, madly, hopefully.
Adler moved his hand to guide the red van in, sighing out a puff of smoke as the driver came out.
“Hudson barely gave me any warning about this before you guys arrived. Didn’t think he was going to give the okay on this based on the latest call on Volkov.”
“Well, you know Hudson,” the voice that spoke was quiet yet deep with how it spoke in easy amusement. If one strains their ear, you could spot the reserved soldier with sad eyes and a kind smile. “Always the one that loves to talk.”
“Pfft, yeah,” this one, this one was all rough and throaty as if it got abused in the past from events unknown but one can guess. If one just takes a glance, you could discern the storm stuck in a body yet does a light drizzle for friends despite the thunder. “Hudson’s a real charmer. Don’t tell me that the Russian Godfather decided to finally open his mouth right when we got here.” At Adler’s nod, the one man army groaned. “Man, jet lag is going to be a fuckin killer! Forget hotels, I’m sleeping here until we head out.”
They’re. . . Your hands shook by your side. Not paying kind to Park who stepped out the Red Room, head turned towards you and approaching you as she called out to you. You only stared as you bit the inside of your lip.
Sims, who helped pull the van in and was now leaning against the side of it, shook his head amiably with a chuckle.
“I wouldn’t do that unless you’re fine with a raggedy ass mattress that looks like hasn’t seen the light of day since the ‘60s.”
“I believe the ‘70s personally,” Lazar spoke up as he sat on his desk, empty plate of takeout near him. “It still has potential if one’s desperate.”
“Yeah, well I’m desperate. Now where is it?” He turned his head along with his friend, comrade, forever ally just as they took a few steps close to where Park’s desk was and seeming to notice you the first time. Adler tilting his head at you, you silently just staring at the two as if you haven’t seen them in years, puffing silently as his brow rose curiously. But you could only look dumbly, eyes feeling a little pressure. They’re here. “Who are you and what the fuck are you looking at?” Woods asked sharply.
You blinked. Once. Twice.
Your lips lifted into a smile before it opened, letting a loud bark of a laugh come out. You’re laughing.
When was the last time you laughed? Genuinely?
You could practically feel the stares, but you didn’t care. They’re here.
They were real.
Once your laughter calmed to chuckles and giggles, clearing the corner of your eyes for any possible tears, Adler stepped up between you and the two soldiers. Giving you a quick once over behind his glasses, you waving your hand at him dismissively slightly at his unanswered question, his brow furrowing before relaxing as he put an arm out towards you.
“Woods. Mason. This is Bell, my protege. I spoke to you about her before.”
You quickly fixed yourself and your expression as you took a polite step forward, you probably look absolutely insane. They don’t know you despite you knowing them. Calm down. You just didn’t expect that a change like the others would be this. Oh god, you looked insane.
“Sorry,” you began, a tiny sheepish play to your lips, “I just—you guys are both legends and I just didn’t expect to see you guys here. At least, so soon. You could say I was a bit. . . excited to put it lightly. Hope I didn’t scare you off?”
Woods and Mason stared at you, Mason having distant amusement playing in his brown eyes as Woods non-subtly leaned towards Mason, a hand slightly covering his mouth.
“Careful Mason,” Woods falsely whispered as he eyed you with suspicion. “We have a rabid fan on our hands.”
“I think she can hear you,” Mason didn’t try to whisper but it didn’t matter as Woods suddenly snorted as he crossed his arms.
“Listen here, Bell. The last thing that’s gonna scare us is someone who got excited about seeing us like we were the fucking—what is it these days? Someone gimme a hand.”
“You talking about bands?” Lazar questioned, Woods nodding as he glanced behind to where the dark skinned man stood by his desk, Lazar staring up in thought. “There’s Fleetwood Mac still going on.”
“Not like how the Beatles was going on,” Woods answered, a little too seriously as you fought a smile while Mason moved and leaned against the evidence board.
“Hear there’s growing popularity with AC/DC and Kiss. They’ve been on the radio a lot lately.”
Woods swiped his hand back and forth as he made a sound of disgust.
“You comparing us to those guys that look like they came out of hell, Mason? What do we look like?”
“I think it fits,” Adler dryly stated, clicking his lighter on to light his cigarette. Woods telling Adler he’s not helping as Park came by next to you with a hand to her hip.
“If demons don’t work, there’s always the Queen. And I’m not talking about the one I serve.”
“Queen is pretty good,” Sims said from behind, “but you guys had to have heard that new song Celebration by the Kool and the Gang. That shit hits.”
“Whichever!” Woods turned towards you asking you how exactly you know about them, you answering honestly that you read up on them on the computer. Seeing no point in hiding it as Woods gave a vicious grin towards you. “Well, aren’t you a nosy little shit. You always read up on everybody?” You were once again honest, saying you like to be thorough with everything but you only had a brief description to go off about them. Whatever secrets they may have is safe with them. Woods sniffed, slightly backing off and Mason appeared to have relaxed his shoulders. “A nosy shit with manners at least. And balls to say all of that to our faces despite what you read.”
True, if you did not know Woods and Mason. Despite that one time where you truly felt their intimidating aura on you, once you get to know them, they’re softies that are loyal. Even with Woods barbed and vulgar words and Mason always observing quietly behind with an assessing look in his eyes, you know they’re shields. Walls. To help with whatever occurred before—just like everyone else here.
And, just like there’s walls. . .
“There’s no innocence here,” you answered, shrugging with a bitter smile.
Woods stared at you for a moment before guffawing, pointing in your direction as he turned to face Adler who stared at you behind his shades as he inhaled his addiction.
“Where’d ya find her, Adler?” Woods asked, before than flapping his hand. “Answer that later. I need food and to knock the fuck out for tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” You repeated, even though you already knew as Adler answered.
“Let’s go over the details briefly. You were right, Bell. Volkov talked.”
✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ▌▌ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯
You watched after the meeting how Woods moved, all loudness and an army in one body with the propriety of one would find in any soldier—none at all. Refreshing. Needed. Even though he looked at you strange when you offered to help with setting up his bed that was all dust and old in the storage room by the generator.
You wonder in the end, after the cliff, how Woods reacted after just saving you from a large sheet of metal debris. Is it naive thinking that he might’ve been mad?
You looked at Mason, more careful with your approach as you smiled softly at him while you gave him the quick rundown that everyone has a spot chosen for their work. That they could use the desk by where they put the projector if they want. Mason raising a brow at you but letting you once you wisely gave him his space.
Would Mason be furious? You were unlucky because you were under the wrong flag. You were born a Russian. If you weren’t than, maybe, they would’ve kept you like they did him.
Meanwhile, Adler—a gaze that never falters, and eyes that are all-seeing with how hawkish they could be, does he see(?)—observed you silently as you moved to and fro with an energy that wasn’t there before. And a smile that looks genuine. He sits back, and watches.
“Shame you were born in the wrong country.”
There’s a lot of shameful things that are tied to you. But like any good monster, any foolish Icarus, and any stupid girl—you’ll ignore them.
.
.
.
American pup—американский щеноk
American bitch—американская сука
You wish to be American, comrade—ты хочешь быть американцем товарищ
Demon—демон
I don't know if it's been too subtle--but Bell isn't exactly. . .mentally/emotionally healthy right now. Adler is just everywhere. But maybe Woods and Mason can help now by just being there.
I love those two a lot.
This Second Life of Bell is coming to a close soon, this has gone longer than planned but thank you for everyone that has been with me so far! ^///////^ Happy Late 6th Anniversary of Undertale that inspired this story's plot <3
I am having trouble contacting my beta due to Tumblr being stupid with messages. Maybe I can reach them here, please contact me on Discord under username: Animefreak1145 (Code #8517)
OK ok I know the last one didn't have a chapter, but let's just call that Chapter 1 going forward. Also I lied, you'll see a familiar face next week, I decided to make a different page the first one, sorry, thanks for putting up with my nonsense.
Description: You lay with panting breaths and another hole to your chest on the cliffs overseeing the sea, the Arctic air suffocating you as you close your eyes. Away from here. Away from him and his form that stood over you. To a simpler time-where everything was a lie was in actuality the truth and nothing hurt.
Only to open your eyes, a hearty gasp in your lungs as you sit up from an uncomfortable rickety chair. Documents astray and coffee spilled to the side. Aviators that hid his eyes assessed you as he distantly asked a "what's wrong, kid?" And it hurts because he just-just a moment ago he-
You died on March 16th, 1981.
You come back on February 24th the same year.
Cold War Reset AU| Undertale Reset AU
Warnings: Torture, Brainwashing, Manipulation, Possible Non-Con
A/N: I love Undertale. And I love angst. Sue me.
"You're still one of us."
You clenched your gloved hand as you stared down at it, your other hand to your throbbing abused eye. You heard Sims make the call for Russ—Adler—your CO, to Washington. Gone and already preparing for the onslaught they all shall do, due to your words.
"—from the safety of Solovetsky..."
Your teacher—no, not a teacher, never was, never could be—was talking to Hudson. Rushed and tense due to your words he managed to get out of you. His grip tight on the brick cell phone as he stood at the desk outside of where you were. Slightly pacing back and forth, you think his brows were furrowed deep and eyes under those sunglasses—it was a shield, a shadow to his true thoughts, his eyes did not match his warm, friendly tone—tight.
Your eye throbbed, making you wince as you leaned against the gurney—the gurney they forced you in, who knows how many times they forced you on it and you wouldn't remember—you unclenched the gloved hand that still somehow felt his touch. Even through barriers.
But he has a way of taking down walls. Forcing it open whether via kicking or an abundant of C4's.
It wasn't just a mere wall though...
"Bell, open the door."
"Bell."
That's not your name.
Nonetheless, you turned without thinking, seeing Park with her arms crossed, a touch of concern on her face as she blocked the entrance of the office. Soot and dirt and scratches still upon her person from Cuba, since it was merely an hour ago. An hour ago since—
"Hurry up, Bell!"
Lazar, who knew your favorite food items when he got takeout for everyone. Who'd let you partake from his own plate to try something new. Because there's no point in being greedy, he would say, memories with food should be light and new dishes should be enjoyed.
"What's wrong?" Park questioned with that calm voice of hers as you stayed silent. "It's best to prepare your belongings now, we're set to leave within two hours. Maybe even one if Adler has anything to say about it."
If you know anything, which isn't much at all, he always gets what he wants.
"Did he know?" You questioned, eyes distant as you stared over Park's shoulder as you watched your fr—not a friend, Adler was lying to you—move towards where Lazar always stood around and ate his Chinese or helped Sims out with equipment.
Park blinked, thrown for a moment at the question but keeping her composure. She always does.
You wish you were like her, yet at the same time, you want to hate her for it. You want to hate a lot of things as of this very moment. Yet, you were stuck. Some sort of strange Limbo where you feel numb to it all—Vietnam wasn't real, what else wasn't, they never trusted you, you were a mere dog eager for his approval and pats—you were numb. To it all.
"I knew I could count on you."
"Who?" Park asked.
"Lazar," you explained simply, tone distant as you stared ahead only to turn away when aviators glinted towards you. Your ears prickling with heat despite yourself only to grow in fervor due to your shameful acquiesce of being caught. Like a child. "...did he know what the both of you did?" To me, was left unsaid. "Did everyone?" You don't think you can take it if Mason and Woods knew too.
You were staring at the ground, surely looking pathetic and pitiful—hand raising when your eye throbbed again. So you missed when Park took a meaningful glance back over her shoulder and turned back towards you. Entering the office fully and closing the door behind her, moving towards the back of the room and grabbing something. Only for your gaze to see Park's hand with gauze, your head lifting and questioning as her lips were up kindly.
"Come. We need your eye to rest. May I?" You nodded silently, but you didn't sit down on the gurney. You sat on the chair and if Park didn't question you, than you wouldn't explain. You don't have to. You let her bandage your eye, being careful and mindful of the pressure. "All Lazar knew was you used to be an agent of Perseus. And than you weren't. I'm sure he had his suspicions as to how your allegiances changed so drastically, the man liked horse piss for drinks but he wasn't dull."
You heard Park's warm somber tone through her British accent. You wished and felt strongly for a moment that you had time to hook Lazar too. Park than sighed, finishing up on your makeshift gauze eye patch as you stared up at her tired face.
"As to Woods and Mason, it is to my understanding they were there when Adler found you. Although mind you, your face was covered and your gear made you appear like a man. They knew Adler took someone for questioning, and than a few weeks later, you're here. Adler's self-proclaimed protege." You didn't flinch, or at least you tried not to. Park must've noticed because her tone softened a dash more. "I do not presume to know what they thought or believed, but I do not see a man like Woods as a deceiving sort that hides what he thinks. As for Mason...I feel like he would understand you the most. With what occurred though, I'm sure they will be debriefed fully once we depart."
You didn't ask her why. You liked using the computer near the Red Room to get necessary information of reports if you happened to miss something. And if you happened to read the others profiles...
"Look at you being a nosy little thing. Ever thought of just asking us, Bell?"
You wonder if your mind was never truly broken all the way due to all the questions and sniffing around you did in the safe house you saw as just being curious. You're not sure if the others thought the same. That MK-Ultra couldn't get all of you, just like they couldn't get anything out of you with mere interrogation.
"Interrogation didn't work with you."
A knock resounded through the door of the office, you instinctively looking to the side when it opened. Knowing who it would be immediately as Park turned.
"We have to gear up now, we can't delay it any further. Our transport's ETA to take us to Solovetsky is fifteen minutes. Park, make the necessary precautions with MI6 to help Hudson out with infil and exfil." Park nodded, moving out the room and leaving you and Adler in the office. You didn't move from your chair. Nor your gaze to a particular uninteresting corner of the tiled wall. "Come on, Bell. You're with me. We can use your Intel about what routes we can take unnoticed to Solovetsky."
"...I'll tell Hudson myself." You stood, moving to walk past him and to not touch him as you did so as one of Adler's brow rose, echoing the name Hudson from his lips. Before stopping you in your tracks with his bare hand to your sleeved bicep. You paused, not looking and just staring down numbly. You don't feel anything at all. It's nothing. The heat radiating from his hand through your clothes is inconsequential, just like his earlier harsh touch upon your chin and cheeks as he demanded for you to tell him what you always knew without being aware. "Let go."
"I just don't think I heard you straight. Hudson? You're scared of Hudson. And he's not exactly the kindest to you." You now understood why he wasn't. A foreigner. An enemy that could snap at any point. You wouldn't be kind either. His hand on your bicep tensed, a tad firmer but you still didn't look at him. Towards him. You couldn't. "Now, I understand your feelings towards me Bell. But we can't act like this when we're out in the field. It'll cost us our lives. And we can't afford that due to the millions of lives at stake."
"I know that." You practically hissed before yanking your arm back towards you. If the others were looking at you both, you didn't care. They're supposed to be busy preparing anyways. Adler's hand fell to his side, slightly clenching before relaxing as you raised your gaze. Not to his eyes, to his chest that moved up and down with each breath like yours did, human. You kept your eyes there. "I know what's at stake. Why do you think I—you must think low of me. If you think my feelings are so important to me that I will jeopardize everyone's chance of life and to breathe."
"Bell," he said tiredly, hoarsely as if he was Atlas shouldering the world and with a cautious step towards you only to stop when you took a step back. "You know what I mean."
No you don't. You never did. You never knew anything.
You don't even know your name.
"Damaged goods."
You raised your eyes and met his eyes through his tinted aviators evenly.
"I'll do what I must when we're there. Just like always. I'll have your back—" Like always, but that only counts for these few weeks and not years, doesn't it? "—and make sure Perseus is stopped. That's what brought you here so far."
You turned your back towards him, keeping everything else inside as you walked towards Hudson. Adler watching you for a moment before following after you, at your side as you touched a map and ignored Hudson's daggers for a gaze as well as how attentively Ru—your frien—your teacher—your—how attentively he listened and told Hudson to stop with the sharp questions your way that at times sound like accusations with a drag of a cigarette. You ignored it all.
Including the mix of nicotine and woody cologne that used to bring you comfort but only made you want to throw up.
You don't feel...anything.
✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✪ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✪ ✯ ✯
You rubbed your eye with one hand, your main assault being gripped with the other as you and the team moved throughout the forest. The wind irritating you as you stood at the bed of the car, maintains alertness.
"Best to not irritate it, kid." You wanted to retort that the wind was doing that, but you lowered your hand all the same. Gripping your weapon with both hands as you stared at the horizon, slowly seeing the monastery where you knew could end the world. You wanted to laugh at the irony, you think you did since Adler tilted his head towards you, face painted as it was. It didn't hide the imprints of his facial scars. "Something funny?"
You were tired, and tired of being tired, so you answered with lips slightly curled as you stared ahead. Your face being aglow due to the already approaching orange light from fire, gunfire or otherwise ahead.
"Just how of all places, we're going towards holy ground to some and turn it to dust. Because said holy ground has the power to destroy everything. What would the future philosophers say?"
He seemed to find it funny too, chuckle sounding more like a rumble next to you. You glanced at him and turned away just as quickly when you spotted his upturned lips, looking down at his boots that were much larger compared to yours.
"I'm sure Perseus knew what he was doing with that. Thinks himself as a god. Too bad for him he's just the devil with broken wings and never going to fly again." You lifted your head, couldn't help but to look at Adler after that statement. You didn't take him as a Biblical man. "As for philosophers," He shifted his feet and you could tell he wanted a light based how his hand went to his pants only to move back towards holding the bar to keep you and both steady in the back of vehicle if need be. "Well, never was quite one myself. But it won't matter. No one will be none the wiser about what will happen."
"What will never happen," you couldn't help but correct, your eyes peering over at him and meeting that clear piercing gaze of his again.
The both of you stared at each other for a few moments, and since you found out the truth, an understanding went between you two—unsaid.
A wry smile tugged at his lips and you couldn't help but do something similar.
"Nice to have that optimism, kid. Guess we're two peas in a pod, since Hudson likes to call me optimistic." He seemed to sober than, face carefully neutral and making your lips fall. "Let's do our best to keep it."
After that, the radio silence to the Soviet Union started. Twelve minutes ticking as you ran with Mason, Woods, and Adler. But always a step behind or forward with Adler, especially when it just became the two of you against all those men. The handheld turret gun seeming to rock your body as you sprayed it everywhere, to the enemies that were perhaps once comrades but are too narrow minded due to pride of being Russian and hate towards the United States and must now be taken care of. You placed the last C4 to the AA gun, the warnings of danger close to your ear as Adler yelled at you, rushed you and frantic as he motioned at you, for you to move.
You turning to see a wave of red and orange coming towards you, the heat on your face and your body as the force of the explosion hit you back so harsh you couldn't breathe.
Ah.
So this is how you die.
Being too close to heat. Not aware of being burned away. Does that make you Icarus? Perseus—the devil with no wings. You—with ones you attempted to create and just hope you don't fall, which would make...
What would it make Russel?
You didn't ponder much on it, you couldn't because you were promptly knocked out. And you were tired. You were satisfied with this—a quick death and one with meaning. A success.
"Only a grave can cure a hunchback."
But you're no mere hunchback. You're a survivor.
You survived Arash's bullets.
Survived an interrogation with the CIA, survived MK—Ultra.
Survived Volkov.
Ukraine. Lubyanka. Cuba.
So when you came to under heated metal, Hudson's voice to your ear, you couldn't help but sigh at your luck. How much longer can you do this?
You heard Woods' voice, the metal atop you moving only to see Adler's hand which you grabbed. Everything aside, you're alive. As well as millions of other people as Adler said in his speech to you, Mason, and Woods.
Yet, you couldn't help but think you should be weary at your luck.
There's always an ending to it somewhere. You just don't know where exactly it will fall.
When backup came, Adler decided he wanted to take a detour with you as the sun began to rise. The others didn't think anything of it, too heavy in their celebrations of what they were able to stop despite Perseus not being found. The drive was silent, your eyes wanting to close as exhaustion wanted to come over you.
You were still recovering from your injuries in Cuba. And what your body went through with the drugs in your system—to almost dying once more.
You were tired.
You wanted to sleep.
"Keep your eyes open for me, Bell." You blinked lazily before blinking again as you fixed your head to keep it level and not bent towards the window. He sounded tired too, one hand to the wheel and the other moving to your shoulder. Doing one squeeze. The comforting grip he always did made you want to automatically slump over. "We're almost there. I want to show you something."
"Is it...important?" You mumbled tiredly through a yawn, moving to stretch so you could stay awake. Adler's hand didn't move from your shoulder as you turned and tilted your head. "Adler?"
He put his hand down, instead in the middle between you two as he leaned against the armrest. An odd turn of the lips.
"Not in the direct sense of the word, no. You'll like where we're going. Trust me."
"Do not trust Adler. He is lying to you."
He did. He did lie.
What he did will never be okay. But when you fought together despite that, and he had your back like you did his—how it was meant to be—and that look of understanding where they both will never be remembered by the public for what they did or will do for their country—it's yours now too, isn't it—and he saved you when he could've left you for dead right there in Solovetsky.
You did what you instinctively did, whether implanted or learned now.
You put your trust in him.
You ignored your weariness when he brought you to a cliff overseeing the moving sea, with its crystal blue arctic waters and the sun overhead shining. The air refreshing as Adler said.
You swallowed back your thundering heart as it pounded as Adler threw his cigarette away.
"You're a god damn hero, you know that kid?" The praise and how he said it so reverently made you want to beam as he turned his back towards you, and yet—you grazed your hand to your hip, teeth biting your inner lip. "Heroes have to make sacrifices. That's why when I ask you for one more, I hope you understand," he turned his head back towards you, the side with his sidearm hidden from you. The wind moved that sweeped straw hair and please, please, please—let him not save you only to—"It was never personal."
His hidden hand moved just as yours did, tears in your eyes and your head pounding as their weapons moved to face the other's chest.
"You're up for this?"
"I knew I could count on you."
"I need Bell."
"Take your time, kid. You will figure it out."
"I know you got this."
"You're still one of us."
You moved your finger to the trigger, only for that refreshing arctic air to move downwind towards you. You inhaled nicotine and cologne and hesitated—a shot ringing out and a cry from your lips as you dropped your pistol. Knees to the ground, hand to your chest that bloomed red and went towards your hand.
"Damaged goods."
You let out a frustrated whine, hunching over as gravity tried to take you down. Tears went down your face as you shakily with panted exertion looked up at—at—.
He stared down at you in a face you could only read as pity despite how he tried to hide it with apathy and if you didn't already have a hold in your chest, you're sure your heart is cracking.
"W...hy...?" You asked, desperate for a reason.
Why save you in Solovetsky? Why couldn't he just leave you to die there, instead of taking you to this beautiful scenery with equally pretty words and a kind tone?
Did him torturing you in your interrogation and with MK-Ultra not enough? He must bring you false hope and safety in death too?
"From one woman to another, give him a wide berth."
"Do not trust Adler. He is lying to you."
"I know you got this. Hudson doesn't trust anyone he can't control."
Was it all about control to you? Just a dog with its master eager to please? An experiment meant to be forgotten and thrown?
He stared at you before he knelt in front of you, hand to your shoulders as he quietly shushed you and you swiped a hand away only to not be able to do it again as he moved you to lay down fully. You facing the sun and sea, your back to his chest as he practically held you up as he told you to come on and you especially think he's cruel now.
How dare he touch you like this now?
What you always wanted—needed—only to have it as you take your few breaths. Wetness were on your cheeks, both of salt and copper as you withheld a sob.
"This is not something I wanted to do, Bell." He finally spoke, voice to your ear and it was husky as always and he sounded tired. But he doesn't get to be because he—he—. "I know you understand why, you and me...we're a lot alike when it comes to what we'll do for our country. What we both have done. Which is why you must also know...you and me..." His hands holding you to his form moved from your waist to your stomach and you let out a bloody cough as you started choking for air but you have to hear—what does he have to say—"...this is as far the both of us go like this, kid. It would've never worked. You know that, right?"
No, no. It could've.
It could've.
You wanted to thrash, to yell, hit him where it hurts but you felt yourself fading and strength weakening as you could only move your lips. Nothing able to come out. He must've noticed, because your body was growing heavy and you couldn't move so he moved you up slightly and fully laid you down by the log next to the flowers to see the sun. Him standing over you and face carefully neutral and stoic as your heavy eyelids wanted to close but stayed determined to stare up at him.
"Maybe another life, kid. Or whatever those philosophers say."
Your vision clouded as you wanted to scream.
Why, why, why—why it couldn't be this life—why did you lie—why isn't Vietnam real to me when I have all the memories, why did all of you lie!
"It was never personal."
It was to me!
And yet, despite your urge to cry and shout and take him with you instead of leaving you alone like this, you felt numb once more. As you stared as the sun's rays touched the ocean and the arctic wind brushed your face but you couldn't feel it anymore.
If you were truly Icarus, you must fly to the life where everything was simpler and truth was truth and that was that.
You took your last breath, watery (e/c) eyes dulling.
✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ▷ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯
Only to gasp, harsh and like you were punched as you sat up so fast your vision swam. Heart thundering in your chest—it's thundering, it's beating—as the chair you were on creaked. You distantly heard something break beside you, your gaze wildly looking down to see a broken coffee mug with the dark liquid spreading on the grey floor—grey floor, grey walls, fluorescent lights, the thrum of an old generator—you froze when aviators glinted towards you, scarred face a tad pinched in concern as he stood over you.
"What's wrong, kid?"
You stared, open mouthed. Closed. Open.
You heard steps from behind Adler, Park tilting her head at you with concern as well as she crossed her arms. Scarf hiding the thin scar.
"Bell? You feeling alright? Did we push you too hard about Da Nang?"
"Who would feel okay after all that?" Sims voice piped up from the back as a chain holding a punching back swiveled. Defensive and distant because you didn't—you weren't—were—did—"Can't exactly expect for everything to be water under the bridge when it comes to that place."
"Should I get take out now than?" You heard Lazar—Lazar, kind and soft eyed Lazar, alive—mutter loudly. A clearly horrible whisper. "There's this place I want to try out with these pastries—"
"You're horrible, man." Sims commented with a laugh only to quiet when Adler raised a hand not holding his cigarette. Taking a drag as he assessed you as you could only stare—they're at the safe house, talking about Da Nang, it happened, it was real, it was real to you, it happened—as he tilted his head a tad as he blew.
"You looking pale, Bell." Yes, Bell's your name. Your true one, it was real—that's your name—his concern is real and so is everyone else's. "Is Park right? Are we pushing you too hard?"
No, no. This is...
You're fine. It's nothing.
You touched your head which throbbed, you wincing as you did so. Your eyes spotting the documents on the desk you fell asleep on—asleep, a dream, a nightmare, a world that never could be because this is real—and seeing you must've knocked out due to everything.
Nonetheless, your lips were in a calm smile that hopefully didn't appear cracked at the edges even as Adler paused from taking another drag of a cigarette.
"No," you cleared your throat when your voice wobbled and continued with force. "You know you can always count on me, sir. It was just a nightmare. Nothing important."
"A nightmare...? Must've been a hell of a one. Looked like you saw a ghost." Your eyes turned towards Lazar automatically, who waved at you and motioned towards the paper in his hand so he could get food no doubt. "Bell." You turned back towards Adler who stared down at you with brows furrowed, sharing a glance with Park before turning back towards you. "If you're sure I can trust you on this." Taking a step and placing a hand to your shoulder—touch is warm and what you always wanted and needed, the feeling of your limp body being held up by his arms—
You flinched. Hard. Falling back with the chair as you breathed, chest heaving as everyone's gazes turned down towards you. Focusing as Adler kept his hand in the air, eyes narrowing behind his brown tinted glasses as your wild eyes calmed. Standing up in a hurry, leaning against the desk with the stray documents and your messy handwriting with notes.
"It's—I—sorry, Russ—Adler—I—" you laughed bitterly, hand to your eye out of habit now and to hide from everyone's concerned gazes. What's wrong with you? Because of some stupid dream. "It's fine. I'm fine. I can finish my work in a bit so I can get out of your way." You picked up a paper as if to show with a smile you didn't quite feel, only your eyes to squint at the familiarity of it.
Wait, this is a lot like—
Adler grabbed the paper from your hand before you assess more, face hard.
"I don't think so. Come with me."
Adler moved and you followed, Park catching your gaze and you forming an embarrassed smile as she rose a brow with a hand to her chin as you moved passed her. You doing the same with Sims and Lazar only for you to pause when Adler held the door open to the med room—office, it's just an office with supplies if things go bad, it was just a dream—you moved forward, eyes to the IV stands as if they personally wronged you as Adler closed the door.
Which they didn't. It was nothing.
Everything is real here, not there.
"You with me, Bell?" Adler snapped his fingers close to your face, you blinking your wide eyes as you nodded strongly with an of course as your CO looked at you, doubtful. "No. You're not. That nightmare did a number on you. Flinching even from a friend? What was it about?" He moved to sit against the desk as he gave you the chair.
You stayed standing. Your lips formed into a smile.
"It's nothing—"
"Don't give me that crap. It wasn't. What happened in the dream, Bell?"
You stared at Adler, his eyes piercing you even through shades. You sighed, sitting down heavily against the chair as you held your head.
"It...my imagination just went wild. Maybe going straight to decoding after doing the memory exercise of Da Nang drained me. This whole Perseus business...I just want it to be over."
"You and me both," Adler said, tapping his cigarette's ashes off before throwing it in the trash within the room and leaning forward. "So the dream was about Vietnam? Perseus? Both?"
You thought of war and blood and Perseus and nodded.
It wasn't really a lie. All the battles reminded you of Vietnam. What happened in Cuba especially.
"You're not telling me something. You holding out on me?" You raised your head, eyes round as you quickly shook your head.
"No! No, I just...it," you clenched your gloved hands on your lap, eyes to the floor as Adler stayed quiet and listened. He always did. "...I died from a gunshot. That's why I woke up."
Adler hummed, staring at you as he tapped his finger twice on the desk.
"That will make anyone jittery." You tilted your head down in a semblance of a nod. It was more than that but he doesn't have to know, it will only hurt him. "That doesn't explain your harsh reaction to me touching you though." You tensed. "You can tell me anything. I won't judge you for it. You don't have to hold back."
You should've known.
He always gets what he wants.
"...you—you held me as I bled out." You choked out, swallowing back wetness to your eyes and feeling your throat clogged as you peered up at Adler with your lashes. You saw his brow furrow at that. "It...you held m—me...till I couldn't move anymore. Y-you...you said goodbye."
"Maybe another life, kid."
Stop it. It wasn't real. Just a dream.
You're here now. And he is too and everything is fine and real and true.
"...One hell of a nightmare." Adler commented lowly as you bowed your head in shame. You shouldn't have been affected so much. You never were affected by nightmares before, how is this one different? It felt so real—"I'm not going to lie to ya, kid. I have those sometimes too. Just keep your chin up and remember I'm here if you need to talk to someone."
You look up, eyes wide at his admittance as he stood from the desk and moved towards the door.
Even Adler feels like this, too? Of course he does, what are you thinking?
America's Monster is just a moniker. He's human too.
He turned his head towards you as he opened it, you standing up as he did so.
"I won't touch you the rest of the day. I'll tell the others too. We don't need you reliving that. Especially since you're determined to keep on going."
Your lips lifted slightly, grateful for his kindness.
"Thank you, Russ."
He stared at you for a moment before turning his head back, keeping the door open for you as you went through.
"Don't thank me yet," Adler said, shades glinting. "We got a job to do."
You froze.
"We got a job to do."
Feeling far away, not quite here and not quite there and just moving without a thought like a puppet with strings and just doing the motions like a dog eager for praise and a pat to the head.
The sensation never came though, as you blinked with brows furrowing. Adler watching you from the corner of his eye as you fidgeted with the end of your gloves on your wrist before blinking again.
You're so messed up in the head.
It's his catch phrase. His slogan. It's not...anything else.
Everything else in the dream is fake. False. A nightmare.
This is real.
You internally shook your head, throwing the quiet Adler another smile as you went back to your desk to finish what you were doing. Adler's penetrating gaze not straying from your form once as you did so.
You fixed the chair that you fell back on, sitting atop it and turning the lamp on. Focusing back to the document you were staring at earlier that looked sour it couldn't be. You picked it up, staring at it and your mouth got dry.
This piece of information...it's for...
The headline of the fifty two hostages and Ronald Reagan flashed at you, the coded message clear for you to see—what you need for Operation Chaos.
Your hand shook as you held the newspaper, crinkling it tight as you stared.
Not a dream.
.
.
.
I finished Call of Duty: Cold War and I don't think any of the COD games ever made me feel this lost and needy for fanfiction.
I think I've read every single good Adler x Bell fic out there. Both completed and ongoing.
I've never felt this kind of black hole in my heart. I don't think I've ever become this attached to a COD character before, the closest I guess is between Mason and Woods and Ghost.
Anyways. Here I go into an Angst Train.
I love video games, and I think the Undertale view of games and resets is perfect for Bell.
Why?
Because I like pain. That's why.
Let's go through this journey together shall we?
I don't know how long this is going to be. I'm just going.
(I cried so many times from this chapter alone, Adler—what have you done to me and Bell—)
I'm gonna tag my favorite Adler authors/artists now.
andulkaphoto
gracieabrams
areudirty
2087
germansingergirl
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
