#U: use evidence to support your chosen operation

[ourbastardofsorrows]

anyway i'm so fucking proud of my students. their written responses for the math performance task were just beautiful

[animefreak1145]

For Whom the Bell Tolls(Adler x Bell!Reader)

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Chapter 3| How Little We Know of What There is To Know

Chapter Summary:

Pretending and being numb is the key.

Yet Adler always manages to bring some emotion out of you.

Cold War Reset AU| Undertale Reset AU

Warnings: Torture, Brainwashing, Manipulation, Possible Non-Con/Dub-Con, Trauma

A/N: Where pineapple is the nectar of the gods and scars are lightning.

“Bell”

Second Life

23:09 | February 25, 1981

CIA SAFEHOUSE E9, “DIE LANDEBAHN”

You rubbed your dry eyes as you stared at your notes all over the desk you’ve chosen as your little corner, the large bulky computer taking up space but you’ve made do by moving the brick that is the keyboard as much as you could off to the side. Your papers held inks of different colors—although they were only red, blue, and black and yellow highlights—and you had a stack of folders behind the computer that were from the CIA and MI6 archives. You had Kraus’ ledger off to your side, headphones on top of it for you to hear the audio of U.S. cities and numbers. Your fourth mug of coffee of the day was already gone and you would grab another just to enjoy the warm liquid to go down your throat instead of the caffeine itself, you were always one of late night’s either way.

The safehouse was quiet outside the hum of the generator and the lights above. Most of the crew gone. Outside of your absent tapping of a pen against your messy notes and the white of a nearby fan for extra circulation, the main open area of the safehouse was a desert.

If you focused deeply, you can hear mumbles and murmurs that you can’t make out coming from the office. Adler has been in there for awhile talking over the phone. To who, you don’t know but you have your suspicions. You just hope the subject is not about you being suspicious—the talk on the roof was a slight on your part earlier.

You truly don’t know what came over you. But you need to watch your mouth and expressions. Adler is perceptive, deadly and ever watchful of a person’s micro expressions and body language.

You can’t mess up.

A shot rings. And a heart splinters.

“It was never personal.”

You really can’t.

Which is why, you have been focused solely on decoding the entire day. Your eyes scanning and assessing the acquired Intel from the Volkov mission for Operation Chaos and Operation Red Circus. You have the knowledge on how to solve them but you are lacking needed Intel to help finish Operation Red Circus.

Operation Chaos was tricky. With two pieces of evidence outside of the newspaper, it being the audio log and the paper that had the coded message. Earlier in the morning, you wrote down all the possible numbers the missing parts of the code be—trying to find the pattern in the set of red and blue numbers. You were writing down the possibilities, your paper looking chaotic with arrows and numbers and cities that could coincide with said numbers.

After the quick checkup of your head with Adler, all firm and gentle touches with you keeping your eyes to the side or down as he fulfilled why he got the alias Doc—treatments of gun wounds and cuts to bayonets, complete trust he’ll take care of you as he would lecture or tighten a bandage a tad too tight in reprimand due to a reckless action—and kept quiet as he did so outside of a soft yes or no when he asked  about the pain, you moved to go to work. Ignoring the feel of his gaze on you as you did so. Park coming to your desk after you moved your stuff from the center table to your chosen corner to begin, papers already everywhere and scattered as you tried to organize it in a manner you could only understand, a mug close to her mouth and a cocked brow at the mess.

“There’s a way to keep it a bit more clean and less like a junk pile,” the British woman said, amused as you made a distracted sound, squinting at the coded language in your hand as papers rustled. “And when I gave you my advice, I didn’t think you would take it so seriously. There’s a better desk you could’ve chosen as your own, Bell.”

You blinked, giving Park a confused look.

“Advice?”

Park making an obvious glance to the center table in front of the evidence board, you automatically following it. Only to turn back to your paper once you noticed Adler’s form by the table, cigarette in his hand as he stared down at his own files.

"From one woman to another, give him a wide berth."

“. . . I just needed some space to focus. I’m sure Adler wouldn’t like all my papers everywhere around him either way.” You could still feel the ghost of his touch on your head and your hand. You wanted to erase it. “But I don’t mind staying close just in case. Easier to hand things to you or him whenever I’m done.”

“Someone sounds confident,” Park commented with a sip of her coffee, making your own lips twitch for a moment as you replied that you are the best as you moved some papers around. Than, in a quiet murmur with a quick dart back to Adler’s direction, “Distractions are best to be avoided. . .”

“What was that?” You asked, placing everything in a pile as well trying to keep some of them up by leaning the papers on the computer screen and failing as they slid down. You heard Park release an exasperated humored huff through her nose just as you heard her step away only for you to have a black leather gloved hand in your face with sticky notes. “What is. . .”

“Oh come now. I am sure it’d be easier if you used these. Make sense of this chaos. I guess there is some fact of what people say about geniuses and their rooms,” she motioned the sticky note pad again as you stared at it. The papers were yellow but new. Unused, outside of a crinkle at an edge.

“Where am I?”

“Who am I?”

“What is happening?”

“Why can’t you remember?”

“D o  y o u  h e a r  i t ? ”

“Who is Perseus?”

“Tell me who I am!”

Blood forms the words, as if with a finger.

“They want to kill you.”

“Make it stop.”

“MK”

Words pressed on the page, over and over and over with harsh penmanship and you don’t understand what’s happening. What is this room? And that man. . .  Why does it hurt? Is this helping Russell?

Pain

           Pain          Pain              боль

                    боль

   Pain                                         Pain

              боль

Pain        Pain                   Pain

          Pain         Pain    Pain                

боль                                                              боль

It hurts.

GlockeGlockeGlockeG̷̟̩͙̏͌ḽ̸̊̿o̵̦̓͝c̵̭̯̊́ḱ̷̛̼͌͊e—

You turned away back to your papers, jaw tight.

“I’m good. Sticky notes can be a pain. Thank you, Park.” Park lowered her hand, giving you a questioning stare in the back of your head. You sighed, turning your head over your lowered shoulders. “I’m going to try to finish this today but I think I’m missing a few pieces of Intel. You can give me other things to decode for MI6 in the meanwhile.”

Park frowned delicately, lowering her mug.

“That sounds like a hefty workload. And I believe it would be best if we put all our focus into Perseus for now.”

No. You have to be useful.

“It’ll be fine,” you say, searching for a paper and giving it to her while Park grabbed it. “I solved that part of the code already. The other intel we got from Kraus, I’m going to need more information in order to figure out who exactly can be Strong Man, Bearded Lady, and the Juggler. I can’t go forward with that so might as well help with other codes you guys may have trouble with. What did you imply?” You ask with faux curiosity, your lips twitching up before falling as you wrote something down. “That I’m a genius?”

“Smartarse.” Park retorted, although she seemed to still hesitate but eventually she gave you three files where they seemed to be having trouble. You getting to work immediately to help as Park walked away and you hearing later on Park and Adler head to the office.

You did your best to not think too much of it. You have to keep at your work and make sure you’re capable and on task. You rather not get jabbed.

“We got a job to do.”

And although it might be inevitable, you would rather not have those words said to you as well. Even if it didn’t seem to have the same affect as before, the feeling and how your thoughts seemed to blur came back. Being aware you moved like a puppet and were one all along is not what you would like to focus on.

After you finished two of MI6’s files—had to do with KGB and how interesting they would use some quotes of Oscar Wilde’s 1984 hidden in the code as if the man was in support of communism with the work—with a hum mixed with impressed and curiosity from Park as she looked at the solved papers, your nose twitched at the scent of smoke and leather as you worked on the last MI6 folder.

“Stealing away my protege, Park?” Your hand around the pen paused before continuing, a plume of grey gathering above you. “And here I thought we have an equal partnership when it comes to this whole Perseus business. At least tell me you’re not wasting her time?”

“I wouldn’t call it stealing if she’s willing,” Park easily replied before handing him the two files to look over that you did, Adler scanning through it as she continued. “And it still has to do with our red friends. You sure are quick with the ball, Bell.”

“It’s nothing,” you say quietly, “Can’t exactly go forward so might as well help you with other codes that others can’t solve. Just send anymore my way. You too, sir.”

Adler made a distant hum, closing the files and handing it back to Park. You felt his stare at the back of your neck as you stared at the paper in front of you that might as well be nonsense since you sensed him.

Look at him, pup.

“If you wanted a more exciting challenge Bell, you could’ve asked. Always the type to leave no stone unturned and show off.”

“‘More exciting challenge’?” Park repeated, “Think MI6 codes are all flowers and rainbows compared to those in the CIA, Adler? I believe I recall that it was only Bell that could be able to solve the dossier instead of anyone else within your organization.”

Yeah, cause you brainwashed me, you thought bitterly but the two kept going as you could only sit in between. Nice to have to be a witness between these two again.

“Bell is the best CIA decoder we have,” you tightened your jaw in surprise instead of to tense when his hand landed on your shoulder, a gentle squeeze—in comfort, in belief, in trust, in camaraderie, in everything but what you wanted and what you needed, in order to control— as you lowered the paper in your hand. “As well as having a wide range of other skills. You think I would just call in any brain dead desk sitter for this operation?”

You could see in your mind’s eye how dizzy you would get before due to all this praise. Now, you just do your best to press your lips as your chest tightened.

You felt Park shift behind you, her looking at you in appraisal.

“You are one of a kind, Bell. Shame you were born in the wrong country. Having to have Adler here as your superior.”

You huffed through your nose in dry amusement at that. Irony not lost on you.

What a curse indeed.

You turned in your chair finally, lips quirked that didn’t quite meet your eyes as you pointed your thumb towards Adler.

“You should’ve seen him in ‘Nam if you think he’s bad now. Always with the lectures.”

You felt Adler release you, watching as he took an inhale as he did a small shrug in disinterest.

“You can be stubborn, Bell. If I couldn’t beat it out of you, I’ll talk it out of you.” You looked up and you could sense his eyes looking down at you behind those shades. “Although I feel like sometimes I’m wasting my breath. Your recklessness borders on insanity.”

“I think I can see why they put the both of you together than,” Park said, brow arched towards Adler and a certain look in her eyes towards him you couldn’t quite read. It looked like a warning. But what could that look be for? “Insanity breeds insanity as they say.”

They left you after that, you waving off Adler asking if you need a break. He took that as the okay to bring you CIA files for you to decode. Seems he has no trouble using you dry if you’re going to insist on it. Despite that, you took them and you were able to solve three.

Park came back towards your desk and saying you could have a break, again, you waved her off. As well as her concern you wouldn’t want to read into—is it real for you and your body, or is some sort of guilt that perhaps they gave you a strong dose for the memory exercise and you’re running on steam, is it fake or real, don’t break the puppet- so you didn’t. You telling Lazar the food you wish and him dropping it by your desk with his own comment that your brain might fall out and you saying you’ll be fine, even threw in a small joke that with his food your brain will be well nourished. Outside of your favorite brand of pumpkin seeds of course. Sims only made a stray comment about the stacks on your desk, getting tall as the day went on and turned to night. You don’t recall if you said something back. You probably did, Sims was always distant—you have trauma that’s not even real and have the gall to have some nightmares about it when he actually went through that horrible war and sees a therapist for it, you don’t know the war—so you would take what you would get.

Everyone eventually shuffled out, Park—her brows looking creased and a purse to her lips—back to the side of your desk before she left and saying you should rest and leave the rest tomorrow.

“I’ll finish the rest today,” you replied, resolute and determined as you wrote the next possible code from this possible radio station an ally of Perseus may be using. “No rest for the wicked. As they say,” you threw out additionally, an echo of her words earlier which made Park raise her brows. “It’s fine. Once I start something, I have to see it through. It helps I can be patient when it counts—at least with this.”

“You seem to take it literally. You’ve been at it since early this morning. You only moved I believe when Lazar brought your food and to use the washroom.” Once you shrugged and said that seems normal to do and you’re fine with that, you heard Park’s tone grow stronger in reprimand. “Yes, you’re fine. Tell me, is Adler stopping you from taking breaks?”

You stopped, looking at Park and her irritated expression.

“No. . . No, it’s just me.” So none of you stick me with that dreadful drug and dig around my brain. So I can show all of you I don’t need it—that you don’t need to do that. That I’m useful and more than an asset. Unneeded assets get thrown away. “I just—just don’t want to disappoint.”

"Disappoint? You've exceeded expectations at every turn, Bell. Disappoint who?"

You didn’t answer, only turned back around and continued with your pen. You heard Park mutter a curse before walking out, giving you a pat to your back and tell you you’re driving back with Adler than since he’s determined to work as well before leaving. Your eyes round down to your desk.

You’ll be alone together with him again.

You took a shaky breath, focusing on the paper in front of you.

You’ll be fine. Just keep what you’ve been doing. Pretend everything is okay.

Pretend his concern—the touch on your shoulders burned as he shook you, as if to erase your dark thoughts out of you, lifting you up with his hand easily with words of a concerned reliable friend commanding officer—is real. And his kindness—why did they save you, you’re useless, what use is an untrained dog—is real too.

Just don’t question it. You’ll go mad.

Mind your tongue as well—control yourself. You used to tease before with faux confidence when the both of you bantered, but you have to watch your spiteful and petty comments. You really don’t want him to give you a dose.

But if you feel like the path is leading you there, you have a way to get at least a semblance of control back.

Puppets don’t control the puppeteer.

“Bell.” You turned in attention, Adler by the center table as he motioned his head towards the garage door, cigarette in hand. “Time to go.”

You nodded once, getting up after fixing up your desk a bit. Grabbing your beanie turned ski mask and placing it back on your head instead of your face and walked over obediently as the both of you walked out through the side door.

Good dogs come when they listen.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯  ◁ ◁ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

“Come on, you know I hate fruit cake! Just give me your pears, Singer!”

“Sorry, Bell,” Singer grinned, taking a big purposeful spoonful of pears from the can, teeth flashing. “Guess you have to deal with all of that yourself. Too bad you don’t have a connection to those who pass the MCI’s, huh?”

You quietly glared at him with no heat, the act almost making Singer choke on his precious pears that he could’ve given you. The choking action making him spit out some and towards you, you making a noise of disgust as you punched the laughing man harshly to his shoulder as vengeance. It made him wince as the others around the campsite laughed at the two of you—the sun still above and the Vietnam jungle loud with birds and the trees moving against the wind. Although not really a campsite you would say since there no fire. Can’t have any eyes on them to go towards smoke.

‘They know these jungles better than us’ as Adler says.

Speaking of Adler, you turned towards him where he leaned against a thick great Banyan tree local to this country—the trunk thick just like the branches that spiral even to the floor. They were all actually hidden in the alcove of this tree, the space enough for them until they kept going to their destination. A beautiful yet haunting tree with its dark and smooth bark all around. You overheard once by Lee and other South Vietnam soldiers in base that these trees can have spirits inside. Dangerous they said for some of them. You don’t think these ‘spirits’ ever met Adler.

You could see Adler’s lips were up in amusement due to your predicament despite his war paint, raising his brow over his black shades when he noticed your gaze.

Before you even fully lifted your hand with the can of horrendous fruit cake, he shook his head at you, lips going even more into a smile.

“Don’t even try, kid. I fucking hate fruit cake myself,” he adjusted himself against the tree and the gun in his lap. The food of his MCI basically gone outside the crackers and canned pineapple. “Disgusting things. I don’t know who’s bright idea was it to have hard pieces of fruit and dry raisins in cake.”

That’s what you’re saying!

“Please, Adler. I gave you my cigs already, at least give me some of your pineapple?”

Sims laughed beside you, nudging your shoulder with his and shaking his head in disbelief.

“You think Doc is gonna give you some of his golden nectar away? Might as well have asked him to give his cigs along with his lighter.”

“Not happening, Bell.” Adler answered casually, finishing up his crackers and swiping his hands against his pants before moving to the can. “Besides, not like you smoke anyways. The cigs would just sit there pretty in the box if you don’t hand it to me. Unless you want to try to smoke again. It went well last time.”

“Didn’t she choke?” Singer teased around a mocking grin. It made his youthful face boyish and eyes bright. “Almost hacked out a lung didn’t you?”

Larson, who was quiet between Singer and Adler, spoke up. Already finished with his food since he’s been mostly keeping to himself. This is the first official mission he’s had since he got the news. Poor guy.

“I remember that,” Larson said softly, looking towards you and you just took all their teases. You blame Adler. “It was after the drinking game between Butcher and Hamilton. You wanted to see the big deal about why everyone liked the nicotine.”

“Only for Doc to come to the rescue after Bell took one of his cigs,” Sims ended with a shit eating grin. You’ll kill him. “Surprised you’re still here and alive. Not from just avoiding choking on nothing either, but that you took a cig from him.”

“You guys bet that I couldn’t. . .” You muttered with narrowed eyes towards Sims who shushed you.

“What was that?” Adler asked, cocking his head only for Sims and Singer to shake their heads animatedly. Adler hummed doubtfully but dropped it.

“Never mind that! Just—“ You groaned, putting your head on your hands as you still held the can of fruit cake. “You think I can eat this shitty cake? The ‘raisins’,” you said the word doubtfully, “could be actual pieces of shit for all I know. It could explain the taste. And how hard it can be.”

Singer and Sims snorted next to you, on both sides while Larson actually cracked a grin as you raised your head and told them strongly to think about it! Adler shook his head, watching the jungle periodically in the open spaces of the alcove which all of you did to be cautious but the fruit cake debacle must be solved.

You turned your eyes towards Sims, spotting his fruit cocktail. Only for his hand to block it.

“Nope.”

“Come on!” Sims shook his head, opening the can and eating the fruit cocktail and you scowled. “All of you are shitheads. Now I’m gonna have to eat this.”

“Damn straight you do,” Adler reaffirmed, stern yet you could spot he found your curse to all of them, him included, funny based on his arched brows. “No wasting MCI’s. You know the drill, Bell.”

You grunted unhappily at Adler, but you knew he was right. Which is why you wanted to trade in the first place. Food shouldn’t be wasted, no matter how heinous.

You took a spoonful after managing to cut into the hard cake, Sims laughing in your face and you could spot Larson keeping his smile at your disgruntled expression only for it to deepen when you took a bite.

You tried to distract yourself through bites by asking Adler how far away they were from their destination. Adler answering after they reach the next nearest foxhole which is two hours away, it will be another six till they reach where they need to be.

“Hue is a mess right now. With us additional reinforcements, we’re going to aim for stealth and go around and take out as much as we can.” Adler explained as they all attentively listened. They can’t mess up. “We’ve been able to give them a lot of damage last I heard, with one final push of us taking out some of them when they’re scrambling—we’ll consider the Battle of Hue a win. Of course, if there’s more than we can handle, we’ll stick to recon and head back around to tell command at the Hue MACV compound we have there.”

“And the civvies?” Larson asked.

“Don’t shoot ‘em.” Was all Adler said before they all moved to clean up and move on after you and Sims finished up.

You having to force to swallow and chew the cake and packing up the trash. They can’t leave anything else it can be used to track or find them.

Larson, Sims, and Singer were outside the alcove—waiting for you to finish as you smacked your lips as if that could take away the taste in your mouth as you grumbled. You moved to go out where Adler was as he stood by the opening to head out. You spotted something on the ground where he previously sat.

“You left something, sir,” you say, growing near to pick up the can. Huh, it’s not empty.

Adler turned his head over his shoulder, expression questioning.

“Whatcha mean, kid? That’s yours isn’t it?” You frowned, looking down at the can only for your eyes to widen. There was some pieces of pineapple left, a little less than half of the can gone but it’s something. He turned his head back as he muttered. “Don’t expect this to happen again. Not here to spoil you, Bell.”

“Don’t expect you to, sir.”

“Just pick up the trash and move it, kid.”

You grinned, knocking back the can and easily and quickly eating it. The juices spilling down your chin and neck but you didn’t care as you licked your lips. The taste of disgusting shit cake gone.

You packed the can quickly, swiping your chin with the back of your hand as the both of you walked to where the others were.

“Thanks,” you said to him softly.

“For telling you to pick up your trash?” Adler answered easily and you smiled knowingly but let it go.

Such a hard ass.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ▷ ▷ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

The car ride was silent, passing street lights and empty cafe’s whizzing by and enlightening the car for a mere moment before it would be enveloped in darkness once more until the next light comes. You were staring out the window as they passed the streets of Berlin, the sounds of the wiper periodically occurring due to the light rain occurring. Not many people out at this time of night, nearing midnight unless you were a working girl or at the local bar. Some wisps of smoke remained in the car despite Adler on his side having his window slightly open. Your eyes watching as it moved lazily and glancing towards the quiet, relaxed man next to you before you would turn to look back out. Curious to see more of the city besides in the backstreets and being stealthy.

You didn’t see much last night after Volkov, you falling asleep in the car as Park drove you. You were too out of it when they arrived at the hotel, just absentmindedly listening and nodding along to Park’s directions and promptly knocking out once you reached your room on the bed. Only to awake once more at the alarm you or someone else must’ve set early in the morning.

You were focusing on that instead of the last time you were in the car with Adler.

“You’ll like where we’re going. Trust me.”

You took a sneaky glance towards the man once more, just as the man exhaled out a cloud of smoke that you watched. Enraptured in how it moved to and fro lithely, easily as your nose took in the smell before you glanced back at Adler, the side facing you being his ‘good’ side.

You wonder once more of his scar that accentuated this man’s beauty—all harsh lines that created a map that even now you wish to trace. For someone like this to earn the title America’s Monster, all styled wheat hair, suede shades, and an easy, wry tone—it should at least match the title.

Than again, you thought with faltering wax wings and of another—the fall of a devil with none. It was never about his looks was it?

“It’s a small price to pay.”

What does that make you?

“Alright, kid,” he says, taking out of your stupor as you stared fully at the man now. Smoke releasing out his mouth as he spoke, making you lower your gaze to it. “I’ll bite. What do you want to ask me? Must be a juicy question since you keep burning holes to the side of my face.”

Embarrassment colored your face, caught, as you quickly adjusted your gaze to straight ahead and instead watching raindrops going down the windshield.

“It’s nothing.”

“Mmm. For some reason, I can’t believe that. What did I say before?”

You said a lot of things before, you thought with a sad frown. But you knew what he was referring to. Always wants to be the one you tell all your worries and concerns to. Before, you thought it was genuine. Now, you just see it as how it was—a cloak to observe and make sure if your true real memories came or if they needed to give you a dose.

“Your scar,” you began as he tilted his head towards you, hair moving as he did so as he kept his one hand casually to the wheel while the other was leaning against his door. You didn’t get distracted by it. “How’d you get it? There’s a story there.”

“Scar?” He asked in false confusion, still stoic outside of a cocked brow and making your lips twitch up despite yourself. Before motioning with his cigarette hand towards his face. “You mean this? Is it noticeable?” At your unamused huff though your nose, he continued. “Back in ‘73, I was nearly killed by a tiger while on a mission in Malaysia. But human ingenuity still runs the animal kingdom.” He turned his head towards you when they reached a light, his brows rising above his glasses. “You ever been attacked by a tiger, Bell?”

You stared at him in disbelief before releasing a surprised snort. The nerve of this man.

“You’re lying. That’s not from a tiger, it would be worse than that. You and your need to tell stories. . .” You mumbled the last part, you don’t think he heard that.

“Didn’t know you were an expert on tigers, Bell. Got a degree in zoology under your belt that I don’t know about? What makes you think I’m lying?”

“Because—“ That’s not what you said last time. You stopped, a realization going through you. Because of course he’ll lie to you about this too. Worse kind of crowd, your ass. “If you got that from a tiger than I must be a distant cousin of Joseph Stalin.”

“That unbelievable, huh?” He said more than asked, amused at your sarcasm as you looked at him with crossed arms as the car moved once more. “Fine. I’ll give. I jumped on a roof in Calcutta back in ‘75 while chasing a Soviet agent. The jump was successful . . . the landing not so much. Advice: always know where the utility poles are.” At your deadpanned look when he glanced at you, his lips quirked into a humored smirk. “That one didn’t hit the mark for you either? Was it the jump?”

You shook your head, a small groan leaving your lips as you leaned your head against the dashboard.

“Anybody who’s anybody can jump from roof to roof,” you replied, staring at your leather boots—forehead pressed against the dashboard and maintains it there even as they turned or there was a bump. “You know that. Just like you know a utility pole would’ve either choked you or electrocuted you. At least with electrocution it’d be more scars throughout instead of that part of your face.”

“Watch the cockiness, kid.” He reprimanded but than, “You’re right though. Roof jumps the standard when it comes to our work. But you’re really confident that I don’t have any other scars throughout the rest of me. Know something I don’t?” Your eyes darted towards him, wide and as they passed a street light, you noticed he was peering down at you in turn. Your skin burned as you looked away and mumbled no while staring at your very interesting shoes. The man hummed. “How about this. You know what they say about kids falling in with a bad crowd? Let’s just say I fell in with the worst part of a bad crowd. The girl wasn’t worth it, believe me.”

At your silence, he glanced at you.

“What? That’s the one you believe?” You gave a small shrug. When he first told you that, you didn’t ask any more questions. It sounded personal the way he said it. Truthful. Adler always lies. “What makes this one believable? The lack of a specific date or are you a sucker for romance, Bell?”

You threw him a meaningful look up at him. Not feeling the need to say anything. At his arched brow though, you opened your mouth.

“Your ex-wife.”  His brow flattened at that. Something shifting in the air. “Was she worth it?”

A beat. A passing of street lights. The pitter patter of rain against the car.

“A romantic than. . .Never saw you as the type.” At your probing stare and his silence, you turned away. Seeing he won’t answer—too private. You’re a fool to even think he will say the truth at all. “Once.” You blinked, turning your eyes back up and lifting your head in attention as America’s Monster—a secret, a peek through the shades, a hint of something real besides the cold, black abyss, what are you Russell Adler—spoke ever so softly. A sardonic turn of chapped lips. “You can say we had a difference of opinion. Not much to it.”

There was more but you will take what you can get.

You thought of the memories you had, of friends you once believed were your own. Of little moments in beaches and camps and villages when all was calm and not chaotic with smell of burnt bodies or blood or how it feels to stab a bayonet through someone’s chest in defense. You could see them as clearly as any other memory you had. And feel it.

You thought of the poor soldier leaving a war only to get into another one in his home country.

“Larson. . .” you murmured, Adler hearing as he released a dry chuckle.

“Sort of like Larson. The poor bastard.” You watched him take a deep inhale, the cigarette almost a near stub. And you realize when that happens, he’s stressed. As stressed as a man like him could be. You’ve seen him in many moments in Vietnam. Not always the best. You wonder if that was another reason for your death. Adler exhaled a puff before having to throw the cigarette out the window with a flick, putting the window all the way up. “I don’t see why you’re so interested either way. Scars aren’t that impressive. Unless you always had a habit about asking for one’s ugly mug.”

You darted up at his eyes, shaded as they were, trying to sense if he was being serious.

Because he couldn’t be.

Not this man, with strikes of lightning upon his face as if Zeus did it himself. All power. Grace. Strength. Different from your barely functioning wax wings as you struggle to fly. Only able to watch and hope a falling demon crashes to its death—all harsh and slow.

What are you, Russell Adler?

Perhaps he is Zeus himself.

Perhaps how Adler got his scar was harsh retribution to control lightning, his scars even mimic those powerful strikes across his face. All strength. And all beauty. Those who survived struck by lightning always have the most beautiful marks upon their skin indicating their survival—you are selfishly bias though. Even now, you admit with self-loathing. The rougher marks on his face is all grace and you could wonder how he truly got it instead of fantasizing him as a God Of Lightning who mistook his own power upon his face.

It would only make sense. Both beautiful men, although you’ve never met the Greek God.

They both also have a habit of hurting women.

He’s all of that, while you could only hope with your squeaky levers and ropes and feathered wax can go up to said Mount Olympus where he was. A naïveté where you think you’re close with tired and sore arms only to be burnt away. A free fall down to the abyss.

Good pups stay in their place.

“You’re joking.” You accuse seriously as you stared up at him, your head against the dashboard but tilted slightly in his direction.

Adler tilted his head down slightly to stare down at you, a brow arched at your look.

“About?”

You didn’t say anything.

Just meaningfully looked up at him through your lashes, staring at his jaw that was strong as if Michaelengelo carefully carved it himself with minute details with his trusted mallet and chisel until dawn with a candle on his head due to determined ingenuity. Observing how the collar of his shirt did not do a good job in hiding his neck, his favorite jacket failing in that too so you could take it in. Not one strand was mussed or out of place on his head, all volume and thickness as your gloved hand twitched by your knee.

You than met the shades, in turn meeting his eyes as your heart seemed to pound as he stared down at you back. A look passing through his eyes too quick for you to catch, besides what you saw in your peripherals. The hand on the wheel tightening an iota as the air shifted to something heavier, blood pumping as your mind thought of reasons as to why which you pushed away. Impossible.

You licked your dry lips nervously, Adler’s expression seeming to tense when his eyes followed the action. You turned away, looking back down except to play with the ends of your gloves, neck hot and spreading.

You still felt his stare before he focused back onto the road.

They didn’t speak the rest of the ride.

Foolish dog should mind their eyes.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ▷ ▷ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

You couldn’t sleep much when you reached your room, another floor to Adler’s and near Park’s, and not just due to how you were more one with the night.

You opened Pandora’s Box—something forbidden coming out into the world as you thought back to the meaningful stare between you and Adler in the car. That even the thought makes your heart pound once more. Your brain further muddling and melting away the more you spend time alone with that man. Whether in being caught in his pace or just the mere thought of what he’s done.

Although, you suppose you already opened a Pandora’s Box. Possibly even darker than the one you discovered.

If the monster in man’s skin was Zeus—he created the box in the first place. Except he wished to hide it from you and keep you willfully ignorant instead of tease you to release envy and greed and disease out in the world. You managed to open it—and it was none of those things, it was cruel and inhumane to you all the same.

Take this needle and follow the story, do the trick.

If only that box stayed close.

Zeus always did like to confuse.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ◁ ◁ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

You let out a heavy sigh, hand mussing your hair harshly as you chewed your lips, staring at the paper on the center table of the safehouse.

“Having trouble?”

You slightly jumped as Adler, who was quiet in the seat across and to the side of you, spoke. Looking mildly curious at all the papers on your side of the table before taking a small puff. You sighed, looking back down at the paper in slight frustration.

“Just a little. Whoever made this code created a difficult to encrypt language. I have some of the numbers though already, it’s just the rest. I’ve never seen such an elaborate one before. . .” You said in thought as you tapped your pen against the paper. “I have to say, it’s impressive.”

Adler hummed idly, taking note of your words.

“Perhaps you need a sort of incentive.”

You moved your eyes up in confusion, wondering what that could mean. Only to stop once you noticed what was in his opposite hand not holding his precious cigarette.

It was a picture—a polaroid specifically. But not just any one. You stared at your oldest friend in the picture, taken on the rooftops in East Berlin, his face tilted down and a level of focus and calm as he stared down below in his crouched position. The lights behind him giving him an ethereal glow, a mix of white, red, and blue as those shades on his face gave a little glint due to it.

You reached a hand to see it better only for Adler to click his tongue, taking the picture back closer to him with a shake of his head.

“Sorry, kid. Can’t exactly be incentive if I gave it to you easily like that. You seem eager though.” Adler arched a brow at you. “Any reason as to why?”

Your cheeks prickle as you cursed in your mind. Why didn’t you get the film from the red room or Park yourself? You thought of a T.V. turning on it’s own, flashbacks to what happened in Vietnam on the screen, the memory sobering you up. You still. . .haven’t told Adler about that. He’ll call you soft and put you solely in the safehouse with no more field missions. You hate his disappointment. Still though, you recall you were determined to get it. A quick in and out but than. . . something? Something. . . happened?

At your brows furrowing deeply, Adler’s own brows furrowed and you answered his silent question as you touched your head.

“Sorry. . . That coma I woke up from still has done a number on me.”

“You did get shot twice, Bell. You have issues with always trying to push me out the way, even back in ‘Nam.” You smiled at his tease. You did have a protective streak. But only for certain people—even if you knew Adler could handle himself, you would do what you must for him if he told you an order. Or even go against it if it involved him doing something stupid like a sacrificial mission. You’d follow him anywhere. “Don’t think too much on it. I’m sure the rest of your memories will come back soon enough.  Just remember in the end that mission was a success.”

“Whatever it takes, sir.” You said, a phrase that he spoke often back in the war. Which you would repeat. You would always do what you must.

Adler’s expression shadowed as he nodded once.

“Whatever it takes,” he glanced at the polaroid in his hand, it facing him as he seemed to stare in thought before turning his gaze towards you. Your expression curious as you wondered what he was thinking before he turned the picture back towards you, brow up inquisitively. “Well, Bell? Don’t think you’re going to dodge the question as to why you want this? I went through a bit of trouble to let Park let me have it. She’s stubborn when she wants to be.”

You slightly scowled at him, feeling the blush once more.

You hated when he did that blasted rhyme!

You also had a sense there was more to him asking Park but you were too busy trying to defend yourself. Not think about their daily quiet pissing match.

“I like taking pictures. It’s an art form. Every artist would like to have their own paintings,” you said, tone even and you wanted to pat yourself in the back for that.

Adler rose both his brows now.

“Really?” The way he said it made it seem he doubted you. “Not a photographer. Was never really interested in art either so maybe that’s why I can’t relate. Still. It’s a good picture, my good side and all. Can see why you would want it.”

You restrained yourself from saying what you wanted like last time. That basically you would want that picture even if it was on his scarred side.

“It had good lighting.” You added as Adler stared at his picture, cigarette being held in his lips. He turned back towards you, glasses slightly falling from his nose and you could see a hint of his eyes. A tease. You stared. His lips curved around the cigarrette, amused and indulging. You panicked. “I-It does!”

“I didn’t say anything. But say, the sooner you finish that code, the sooner you can have this—“ he paused, waving the hand with the polaroid”—piece of art of yours. Never thought I would say that but I guess there’s a first for everything.” He pocketed the picture back in his jacket, blowing his smoke away from you before he stood up and headed towards Sims only to add over his shoulder, “I’ll leave you to it. I know you got this.”

You stared as he walked over, the belief he had in you with those words moving around in your brain. You moved back to work, pointedly ignoring Lazar’s whistle—him able to hear some of what occurred no doubt. You threw him an impolite gesture that only made the man laugh as you focused on the code. It took you three tiring and near sleepless nights, but you finished. Adler handing you the photo in between his fingers as you took it gently, trying not to crinkle the photo further as Adler watched you behind his shades as you held the photo, taking a thoughtful inhale of his cigarette before looking away. Looking around their surroundings outside the safehouse. Their break time spot.

“You sure got talent, kid.”

“You should know by now to not doubt me, Russ,” you replied, your eyes still on the photo between your gloved hands. “Only the best of the best with you. Just took me longer than I thought.”

“Watch that confidence doesn’t blind you one day, Bell.”

“You first.”

He chuckled at that, breathless and surprised making you stare up with wide eyes. The sound rare. Adler tapped the end of his cigarette, ash going on the ground as he stared towards the doors of the safehouse, an echo of a smile on his face. Barely there. Others wouldn’t see it, but you’ve known Adler for years.

“You got guts. And spunk. Met my match with you it seems, kid. You know me too well. . .” Adler took a puff, deep as he trailed off, shades dark.

“That’s not a bad thing,” you say, lowering the photo in your hand. “Sims does too. Can’t exactly get rid of us that easy.”

“Sims has been through many missions with me, but not as much as you.” Adler explained calmly. “Some of those, I’m taking to my grave. If I breathe a word about it, I’ll have a bunch of people up my ass.”

You sense as if this was like a conversation from years ago, on a beach. Quiet and away from everyone in the camp, just the two of you talking about realities and soldiers. You think about that memory a lot.

You recall some of the memories he’s referring to.

You half shrugged, pocketing the photo in your bomber jacket as you leaned against the wall of the safehouse.

“What can you do? It was necessary. Besides, I can’t exactly tell anyone else either, Adler. Brutality is sometimes necessary. That’s all I know.” You paused, tilting your head and throwing a teasing smirk his way to get him out this weird mood. “Don’t tell me America’s Monster actually cares what other people say?”

Adler deeply exhaled in exasperation, smoke coming out his nose.

“Don’t tease me, Bell. You know I can’t give a shit.”

“Than what’s the problem? You do what needs to be done. Make the tough calls. You know. . . you know I understand right?” You asked carefully. “I’m with you when it comes to doing what we must. To protect what we need to.”

Adler was silent. He never answered.

You didn’t push him. Didn’t feel the need.

You understood him the best.

Only monsters can see one another, after all.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ▌▌✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

Monsters, you’ve come to know, are also a certain kind of creature that takes what they need.

To want. Selfish and uncaring and you should be concerned at how easily you take in those traits.

Too busy to worry about regular people—the mundane. There are bigger things to be focused on than other’s opinions on what actions are necessary.

You and Adler can give not one fuck about others. They know what they are and will accept the titles from others with a nod.

What you’re coming to find however, that even with monsters, there’s different breeds.

You basically reiterated to him that what he did with you was necessary. Needed. Sound brutality at its finest. You feel like you can’t even argue.

What is better—loyalty to a country or to people?

You’re trapped.

.

.

.

I have a problem. This story is going to be long when it was supposed to be short. Oh well. 

Also, hot take maybe, I love both Soft!Adler and Dark!Adler so let’s just have both sides of him shall we? Wait…is Adler truly soft here? Who knows.

DM me if you wish to be tagged please. ^////^

Tags:

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[mysmedrabbles]

RFA+Minor Trio Reacting to an MC in the Mafia

requested: y e s 

a/n: listen,,,,, im a huge sucker for mafia au’s ,, and perhaps i’ll upload a full story with all of them on Patreon! So stay tuned for that one! Definitely more mafia AU type things coming soon though  if you want to see more mysme mafia and want to support my work, feel free to buy me a coffee!

warnings: vanderwoods is really good

-Prohibition-Era Italian Mafia mod Alex 

Jumin

- corporate heir of a multi-million won company married to the runaway child- now mafia member? my god what a cliche

-it’d originally been a few weeks before he’d planned to propose when he suddenly realized that he had... never actually met your family? He’d always figured that you’d tell him when you felt comfortable enough, or when you felt like it, but he genuinely wanted to propose, to marry you and make you his, however he felt he needed your fathers approval, something.

-he’s surprisingly calm when you tell him the truth, that you’d run away from home at a young age and upon asking for a job at the local bar, as anything, someone who works in the back and does inventory, trash person, anything, you’d found out that this bar was a front for a mafia organization, who’d promptly adopted you and taken care of you ever since 

-you’re not sure what kind of reaction you expected from him, but you receive none, only an understanding nod and a question, same as before, “Can I meet them?”

-the next day you take him down to where you work, a lovely little rustic bar downtown. 

-he notices as you visibly relax when you take him into the back, smile spreading on your face as you greet various members cheerfully, a reluctant grin, changing to a threatening frown when they noticed Jumin holding your hand and following you to the back

-you’re not expecting the meeting to go well, pacing around the door, where your boss, is privately speaking to Jumin, hand placed firmly on your grip of your gun, finger threateningly over the safety lock, ready to fire if something bad went down

-so you’re exceedingly surprised when the two come back out on an embrace, chuckling as they greet you. waving the two of you off with a genuinely kind smile, you turn to Jumin, demanding an explanation as you get back into the car.

- “Jumin?????” you gesture wildly, inviting the explanation.

- “Yes dear? - Home, Driver Kim please” he nods in Driver Kims direction.

-He gives no explanation, knowing it’s going to drive you insane, only says, “We’re having dinner with your family next week by the way.”

-corporate mafia family

Jaehee

-her dream, to own her own cafe, with you! her love, her joy, her future wife!

-so she can’t understand you when you’re extremely hesitant to leave your job, what looked like a? boring bartending job?

-she knew there was something you weren't telling her, and she ends up figuring it out herself, putting two and two together, using various news reports about the bar, mixed with information (or lack thereof) of the manager of the place

-she stomps up to you in a cold but angry manner, and thrusts a piece of paper in your hands, a list of collected evidence. “Tell me you’re not part of a gang MC.”

-her voice is scarily cold, but hints of tears that threaten to swallow her whole still manage to reflect through her voice.

-you explain your story, the whole ordeal since you ran away until you found the job, to how they all took care of you, and hey its not like you were the most powerful one, you were moreso like the little sibling of the group, still having skills but never in any direct danger.

-she doesnt speak to you for two days, “contemplating the information” (aka making you feel guilty for hiding this)

-when she sees just how broken down and sad you are as you get into bed, movements sluggish as you flop into the comfort of your shared bed, it finally makes her realize that,, this was something you had chosen as a child and even if she wasn’t okay with it, it wasn’t her choice to make. This was your family and she had to respect that. 

-biting on the inside of her lip, she slips next to you, pulling you towards her silently. resting your head on her chest, you look up at her hopefully, “does this mean I’m forgiven?”

-the ghost of a smile graces her face as she closes her eyes, “We’ll see tomorrow. Lets sleep for now y/n.”

-when jaehee meets the crew its a lovely spring night and,, well,,,, basically they end up scared of her and you’ve never been more in love with the woman sitting across from you at the dinner table

Yoosung

-nonononononono his sweet baby angel cant be in the mafia

-the fact that you’re you know,, a part of the mafia doesn’t even register in yoosungs brain, his main concern is that you’ll get hurt, that something will happen to you in the line of duty and you won't come home

-you assure him that you’re mainly the person who talks to the targets beforehand, gathering intel and helping prepare for the missions

-you dont necessarily tell him much about anything or anyone, preferring to keep him in the dark, for his own safety

-of course you’d mentioned Yoosung to Byung-Hee, the mafia boss and your paternal figure, but he’d never thought much of Yoosung; that is until Yoosung bursts into the storage rom of the bar, and with around 15 different guns pointed at him, he threatens Byung-Hee, that if he ever dare let anything happen to you, he’d come in and kill him himself, using his medical knowledge to make his death look like an accident

-Byung-Hee is,, amused. Yoosung is not threatening in the least, but the dedication it took to march into mafia headquarters uninvited and threaten the leader while thirteen different people had their guns trained directly at him,,, shit takes guts

-All he does is nod, extending his hand to shake Yoosungs, who is,, extremely confused. When Yoosung’s hand reached Byung-Hees however,, the boss yanks Yoosung close, whispering in a threatening manner that if h e ever hurt you, he’d kill him in the most painful way possible and no one would ever know

-needless to say as soon as he gets back home, the adrenaline rush fades and runs directly into your confused embrace as he cries, mumbling something about how you’ll always be safe and his promises

Seven

-sjdhfskjdfh bitch you think you’re dangerous? i’m part of the mf mafia

-he never found much about you when he looked you up, only records that existed were report card grades in elementary and middle school, but past that it was as if you’d fallen off the face of the earth; no credit cards, social media accounts, guilty 2 am internet purchases, not even so much as a water and power bill or an address, until you suddenly reappeared three years ago, but it’s still not much

-the two of you drive the rest of the messenger to insanity, and even your FBI agents are sick of see your texts to each other, questions masked in playfulness, both trying to get the truth out of each other. Nothing making sense except to the two of you

-often he’ll poke you awake in the middle of the night, glasses slipping down his nose rapidly as he pesters you with incoherent questions about your past; but all you do is shift, intertwining your legs with his and pushing him back down to the bed, placing your head on his chest as you go back to sleep

-its around six months later post having moved in together when the two of you when you decide enough is enough. the truth had to come out sometime no? the two of you gather all the fast food and snacks you can, and facing each other sitting cross legged on the couch, no interruptions, you take turns firing questions at each other, answering them no matter how hard it might have been

-his reaction to you being in the mafia is at first, concerned. because he knows how mafias operate, and the last thing he would want is for a client to come into his job and for your gang to be the target that needs to be eliminated. 

-his next question is what level of illegality do you operate at?

-with your response being an even 5, he presses for more. you explain how you take funds from the rich, expose the businessmen who steal from the company’s funds, bribe and threaten powerful congresspeople to pass better laws to help the poor, the basic steal from the rich, give to the poor type deal

-he listens intently, the story of how you got to this point completely capturing him. he never thinks badly about you; in a way you guys were helping out the world. if he spins it the right way, its almost like the two of you are doing the same job, just different methods

-work buddies! while he hacks and does his work for the agency, you’re right there sitting next to him trying to learn all you can about your next target and making a detailed plan, on constant call with Hyun Ki and Hyun Shik, dubbed the “intelligence twins.” When you’re getting visibly stressed he reaches over, gently squeezing your hand reassuringly as he breaks out the HBC for the both of you to take a short break, and when he gets stressed you do the same. 

-finally having a place to rant about work, of course neither of you can ever disclose the targets names, but its still good to get things off of your chest

-honestly the only thing he has trouble believing is that you’re an actual bartender. “yes seven, i actually went to school to get my certificate for this” “why u always lyyyiiinn”

-when he sees something on the news, another politician knocked down from the public eye, a mysterious amount of money donated to the local orphanage, he makes sure to congratulate you, genuinely grinning as he picks you up to kiss you, proud of his s/o 

-if you’re chosen to do some first hand intel, go down and charm someone into signing x y or z paper or get them to a secondary location, he uses his own skills to keep an eye on you and make sure nothing bad happens 

-when its time to meet the family, he goes in jokes ablaze, making what was supposed to be a refined mafia dinner at an upscale restaurant a comedy center,, and the lack of fear on his behalf frankly amuses the boss. sevens a mess the whole dinner. he observes the similarities between the gang and the RFA, both having the same familial dynamic between each other, a kind of comfort and complete happiness. 

-of course as soon as you get married he instantly becomes a part of the family as well

-they hate him. like,,, they love him but also hate him.

-terrible jokes from his part; “hey y/n can you take care of this client for me? here kind of a dick but i’m not allowed to say anything. it'd be great if,,,, something happened to their money”

-he knows you’d never do it to anyone that doesn’t deserve it but its a funny bit that keeps the two of you sane

Zen

- “absolutley not mc”

-he hates your job already, working at a bar in downtown, but the fact that its just a Front for a Mafia gang? that you’re a Part of?

-absolutely not.

-he springs into protective mode instantly, launching himself into a long rant on how he’s going to get you out of there, you dont need to worry because you dont have to be there, no matter what dirt they have on you, what you did in the past, he still loves you and he’s going to help you no matter what it takes

-meanwhile youre sitting there watching him pace around, trying not to burst out laughing

-when you explain to him that they’re quite fair, a robin hood type deal made of people who grew up poor, people who were cheated by the government and were forced into poverty, broke their way through the ranks and were trying to help others that were currently in their situation, taking from the rich, bribing businessmen in high power to put forward better laws for consideration, dropping money on random peoples doorstep, all under the cover of anonymity.

-he sits on this for a while, trying to digest what you’d just said. as much as he hates it, he empathizes with the situations that brought you there, and his opinion of this gang has,, drastically changed

-he’s still wary of your safety, hence you suggest he meet the members himself

-bringing out all the toughness he can muster, he strides in with you at his side, cooly talking to the intelligence twins, Hyun Ki and Hyun Shik. He meets others, Jae-Sang and Byung-Hee, and they accept him into the family surprisingly quickly

-he gets along with everyone,, r e a l l y well

Saeran

-nervous boye 

-he doesn’t want you to get hurt, but he understand your reasoning as to why you started in the business of money laundering, understands better than most

-he listens to your story, about the way you ran away and straight into the arms of Byung-Hee, who offered you a job. With no other choice you joined, but eventually warmed up to the idea, and now you love them like family

-of course, he cant help but call you during your lunch break, needing to hear your voice and make sure you’re okay, that you haven't been killed or turned into a murderous member

-a part of him does think its somewhat cool, especially the fact that you willingly got in and can belong to a group like this and not be you know,, abused traumatized and poisoned repeatedly.

-when he finally meets them, he barely musters a word or two, but as time goes on, he gets increasingly comfortable with them. if you trust them, he trusts them.

V

-he cant go through this cult mafia shit again bro

-it takes a lot of reassurance that the boss is actually fair, and even proving to him that you guys dont do others harm, nor do you forcibly recruit people

-you tell him about how they took you in as a scared and alone high schooler, essentially adopted and raised you, gave you a job, a roof over your head and urged you to do what you want in life

-of course theres the thing that you cant officially leave them, so technically you are trapped there, but they took pity on you, looking at you as a little sibling, and at most they only make you gather intel or have you as the driver

-he’s not the most calm about it, but he understands that they’re your true family, and he tries his best to get along with them, trying to view the members as multiple brothers sisters and or parents instead of,,, dangerous mafia members

-he seems extremely calm and chill whenever you guys all go for dinner, very professional and sleek, but in reality he’s trying not to run into the restroom and escape through the window

Vanderwood

-you started off as his client, the one he were supposed to gather intel on and report back to the boss, find his way to your own boss and kill him

-so when Vanderwood found out that you were also the rfa he felt like the luckiest man in the world

-he pretty much always hangs out in the bar during your shift, trying to overhear any useful information; but damn he never expected you to look,, like that.

-week after week, he finds himself enraptured in your beauty, buying water after water, trying to be smooth as he talks to you

-he convinces himself that the little flutter he gets whenever you smile, when your fingers momentarily touch his as you give him yet Another glass of water no ice,, your focus when you experiment with different drinks, the way you get ridiculously excited when said experimental drink turns out good, immediately giving Vanderwood a glass,,, missions,, weren't supposed to be like this right?

-he pries, asking about your boss, but its the adoration of which you speak of Byung-Hee that breaks him, the gestures you make as you talk about him like family

-he skulks back to base, head running wildly. he knows he can’t let you go, he cant fall in love with a client, however he can't bring himself to bring you or your family harm. 

-trying desperately to regain his composure, he spins a story how the original intel he received must have been wrong, because there was no hidden agenda behind the bar. He makes up a lie how he went through the bank statements, hacked the system, did it all, but the bar was 100% clean

-he knows he can never go back, to you, but just protecting you will have to be enough

[roninwarrior47]

Here’s something you didn’t know!!!

The CIA often works in mysterious ways – and so it was with this little-known cloak-and-dagger caper that set the stage for extensive collaboration between US intelligence and Islamic extremists. The genesis of this ill-starred alliance dates back to Egypt in the mid-1950s, when the CIA made discrete overtures to the Muslim Brotherhood, the influential Sunni fundamentalist movement that fostered Islamic militancy throughout the Middle East. What started as a quiet American flirtation with political Islam became a Cold War love affair on the sly – an affair that would turn out disastrously for the United States. Nearly all of today’s radical Islamic groups, including al-Qaeda, trace their lineage to the Brotherhood.

“The Muslim Brothers are at the root of a lot of our troubles,” says Col. W. Patrick Lang, one of several US intelligence veterans interviewed for this article . Formerly a high-ranking Middle East expert at the Defense Intelligence Agency Lang considers al-Qaeda to be “a descendent of the Brotherhood.

For many years, the American espionage establishment had operated on the assumption that Islam was inherently anti-communist and there fore could be harnessed to facilitate US objectives. American officials viewed the Muslim Brotherhood as “a secret weapon” in the shadow war against the Soviet Union and it’s Arab allies, according to Robert Baer, a retired CIA case officer who was right in the thick of things in the Middle East and Central Asia during his 21 year career as a spy. In Sleeping with the Devil, a book he wrote after quitting the CIA Baer explains how the United States “made common cause with the Brothers” and used them “to do our dirty work in Yemen, Afghanistan and plenty of other places”. This covert relationship; unraveled when the Cold War ended, whereupon an Islamic Frankenstein named Osama bin Laden lurched into existence.

Described by ex-CIA analyst Graham Fuller as “the preeminent international Islamist organization,” the Muslim Brotherhood currently has a huge following with autonomous branches, all in close contact, spread across the Arab world.

But it is banned in several countries, including Egypt, it’s birthplace, for being an alleged front for terrorists – a claim its supporters adamantly deny even though bin Laden and other al-Qaeda leaders had close personal ties to the Brotherhood prior to September 11, 2001

To understand what happened on that fateful day when terrorist strikes leveled the World Trade Center and damaged the Pentagon, one must revisit the turbulent changes that took place a half century earlier in the land of the sphinx. After seizing power in a 1952 military coup Egyptian Col. Gamal Abdul Nasser quickly threw prominent Communists in jail. This raised eyebrows among US cloak-and-dagger operatives who were eager to oblige when Nasser requested help in upgrading Egypt’s ineffectual secret service. But the US government “found it highly impolitic to help him directly,” the late CIA agent Miles Copeland acknowledged in his memoirs, The Game of Nations , so the CIA subcontracted more than a hundred German Third Reich vets, who specialized in Nazi security and interrogation techniques, to do the job.

Before long, however, US officials grew wary of Nasser, who seemed like a loose cannon on the deck of Middle Eastern politics. A fervent pan-Arab nationalist, he rebuffed American appeals to join a neutralist coalition of Third World nations that favored an independent stance during the Cold War. Non-alignment in the East-West conflict was an abomination to CIA director Allen Dulles and he bristled at Nasser’s growing stature as a charismatic leader who could galvanize Arabs and Muslims far beyond Egypt, “If that colonel of yours pushes us too far, we will break him in half,” Dulles admonished Copeland, the CIA’s man-on-the-spot in Cairo.

Copeland pondered ways to knock the pesky Nasser off his pedestal. One scheme called for slipping the Egyptian president a surreptitious dose of LSD to induce bizarre public behavior that would discredit him and tarnish his heroic image. But this wasn’t feasible. Instead of an acid hit, American spies opted for pushing “the opiate of the masses,” as Karl Marx sp famously described religion.

There were notable precedents for marshaling religious sentiment to advance America” Cold War agenda . In 1948, the fledging CIA enlisted the cooperation of the Vatican and Catholic Action, the largest Catholic lay organization in Italy, in a successful campaign to deliver the vote and vanquish left-wing parties in a hotly contested Italian election. Although Muslims have no pope or authoritative religious hierarchy, CIA strategists figured they could win over Arab hearts and minds by manipulating Islamic piety. Copeland recounts in The Game of Nations how the CIA engaged in black propaganda operations in Egypt that sought to demonstrate “Soviet ungodliness” by circulating anti-Islamic literature – including books with titles like Against the Veil and Mohammed Never Existed – while attributing its distribution to the Soviet embassy.

But cutting Nasser down to size was a much taller order than making the Soviets look like atheists. What the CIA really needed, according to Copeland was a “religious spellbinder” to alter Arab opinion and “divert the growing stream of anti-American hostility” . As Copeland recalled, “I wanted to find and groom a messiah who would start out in Egypt, and then spread his word to Africans and perhaps other Third World peoples. Our Chosen One would immunize them against false prophets,” I.e., Nasser and other non-aligned nationalist leaders.

Miles knew “from what was happening in America that a religious movement didn’t have to make sense in order to attract adherents,” as he put it. He was referring to Billy Graham’s sick gospel and salvation road show, which drew huge crowds across the USA in the early 1950’s. The meteoric transformation of this dime-a-dozen, Protestant Bible-thumper into a big time celebrity evangelist evidently made quite an impression on Copeland, who came up with the bright idea to sponsor “a Moslem Billy Graham.

Copeland was off and running. He visited several Egyptian mosques in search of an Islamic preacher who could sway the Arab masses in a manner most congenial to US interests. Although Copeland never found the CIA’s messiah, his furtive machinations were not without impact. While on the prowl for a Muslim Billy Graham, Copeland reached out to leaders of the religious revival movement known as the Ikhwan, or Muslim Brotherhood, which sought to build an Islamic society from the bottom up. The seeds of a clandestine relationship between the CIA and the Ikhwan were planted by Copeland, who surmised that the Muslim Brothers, by virtue of their strong antipathy to Arab nationalism as well as Communism, might be a viable counterweight to Nasser in the years ahead, US intelligence would become a defacto partner of the Brotherhood as it evolved from a mass-based social reform organization into the wellspring of Islamic terrorism.

“Any contact Miles had with the Muslim Brotherhood was not official policy,” insists retired CIA officer Raymond Close, a colleague of Copeland in the Middle East. “It was strictly solo work on his part. There were an awful lot of things that Miles did that were totally off the board.”

Whether Copeland’s efforts were “off the board” or otherwise, the Muslim Brotherhood was certainly a force to be reckoned with. Since its inception in 1928, the Society of the Muslim Brothers sought to restore Islamic law and values in the face of growing Western influence. Launched as a social welfare association, it became a focal point of resistance to British colonial rule. The Special Order Group, a secret paramilitary wing set up by the Brotherhood, carried out guerrilla raids in Egypt during the 1940′s, bombing British installations and killing British soldiers and civilians. By the time Brotherhood founder Hassan al-Banna was assassinated in 1949, the fast-growing Ikhwan, with its distinctive green flag crossed with white swords and a red Koran, had a half million Egyptian members and affiliates in several other countries.

When a group of young Egyptian army officers led by Col. Nasser toppled the pro-British monarchy, the Muslim Brotherhood gave them full support. But the Brothers soon had a falling out with Nasser when it became apparent that he did not intend to establish an Islamic state. Egypt’s secular strongman cracked down hard on the Muslim Brethren, which comprised the largest organized popular force in the country and the last obstacle to his autocratic leadership. Nasser’s aim was not to banish religious expression from the political domain, but to prohibit any religious expression that was not government controlled.

In the wake of failed assassination attempt against Nasser in October 1954, Egyptian authorities outlawed the Muslim Brotherhood, jailed and tortured thousands of its members and killed several of its leaders. Some went underground or fled the country to escape successive waves of brutal repression aimed at smashing the Brethren.

Saudi Arabia became a magnet for many persecuted Islamist refugees not only from Egypt but also from Syria, Iraq, Libya and other Arab states where the Muslim Brothers were perceived as a threat to the secular, nationalist order. Ikgwani expatriates were welcomed by the oil-rich Saudi monarchy, which became the principal patron of the Brotherhood on the Arabian Peninsula and elsewhere. A strategic US ally, the Saudi royal family was so hostile to godless Communism that it did not even maintain diplomatic relations with Moscow.

American intelligence formed a three-way tryst with the Saudis and the Muslim Brothers, according to Robert Baer, the former case officer in the CIA’s Directorate of Operations, With the CIA’s implicit approval, the Saudi royals channeled funds to the Brothers, who joined a US-backed anti-Nasser insurgency in Yemen in 1962. “Like any other truly effective covert action, this one was strictly off the books,” explains Baer “There was no CIA finding, no memorandum of notification to Congress. Not a penny came out of the Treasury to fund it. All the White House had to do was give a wink and a nod to countries harboring the Brothers”

Yemen was just a warm up. To give a boost to Islamic proselytizing the Saudis with CIA encouragement, founded the Muslim World League in 1962. Underwritten initially by several donors including the Saudi-based Aramco oil consortium (then a CIA collaboration, the League established a formidable international presence with representatives in 120 countries. Members of the Muslim Brotherhood occupied key staff positions at the League while it disseminated anti-communist religious propaganda and sponsored the construction of mosques and Islamic center’s around the world.

Exiled Ikhwani were also employed as teachers and imams in Saudi mosques, schools and government agencies, where they promoted the extremist doctrine of Sayyid Qutb, the Brotherhood’s leading scribe and theorist. Executed in 1966 after 10 years of confinement in Egyptian torture chambers, Qutb is arguably the most influential religious scholar in modern Islam. He fashioned a lethal variant of political Islam that provided a Koranic justification for violence as the only way to rid the Muslim world of corrupting Western influences. Qutb’s hostility toward the West, in general, and the United States, in particular, was born during two years of study at the University of Northern Colorado in Greeley in the late 1940′s. He returned to Egypt mortified by decadent, sex-crazed America, which he likened to a brothel.

The Muslim Brotherhood underwent a significant shift with the radicalization of Qutb in prison. What had been essentially a reformist organization in its formative phase veered off in a dangerous new direction. In addition to intro ducting a harsh anti-American perspective to the Brethren, Qutb called for the formation of a revolutionary Islamic vanguard to spearhead the violent overthrow of secular Arab regimes. Qutb’s martyrdom bestowed instant credibility upon his message, which posthumously filled the ideological void left by the huge Arab defeat in the 1967 Six Day War with Israel, a defeat that shamed Nasser and discredited the Arab nationalist cause.

Qutb’s inflammatory writings would decisively influence a generation of young militants, including the future spear-carriers of al-Qaeda. Osama bin Laden, the tall, handsome scion of a wealthy Persian Gulf family, was first exposed to Qutb’s nostrums while attending King Abdul-Aziz University in Jeddah. One of bin Laden’s instructors in religious studies was Egyptian Professor Muhammed Qutb, the exiled brother of Sayyid Qutb, who taught classes on the imperatives and nuances of Islamic jhad.

After Nasser died in 1970, the Muslim Brethren, buoyed by Saudi petrodollars, resurfaced in Egypt. The newly emboldened Ikhwani were wooed by President Anwaar Sadat, Nasser’s successor, who freed Islamic activists from jail, lifted some restrictions on the Brothers, and turned them loose against the Nasserite die-hards and leftist student groups who disapproved of Sadat’s decision to make amends with the United States. Sadat’s courtship of the Brotherhood elicited more winks and nods from US intelligence. Right under the CIA’s nose, the officially-banned by semi-tolerated Muslim Brotherhood was going through a momentous transformation in its country of origin.

French scholar Gilles Kepel, the author of Jhad: The Trail of Political Islam, describes how Qutb’s theories found a receptive audience at Egyptian university campuses, giving rise to a potent radical wing with in the Islamist movement. When the older leaders of the Ikhwan, chastened by years of repression, repudiated armed confrontation in favor of gradual efforts to reform the system, renegade Brothers created several violent splinter groups and vowed to wage holy war against an authoritarian Egyptian regime, which they saw as corrupt, anti-Islamic, and a US puppet. The heads of two Brotherhood breakaway factions – the Egyptian Islamic Jhad of Dr. Ayman al-Zawahiri and the Islamic Group of Sheik Omar Abdei Rahman – were among those implicated in the 1981 assassination of President Sadat.

Today Rahman, a blind Egyptian cleric, is serving a life sentence in the United States for plotting to blow up the United Nations, Manhattan’s FBI building, the George Washington Bridge and other New York City landmarks, while Dr. al-Zawahiri, a squat, bespectacled zealot with a round head and owlish face, appears in post-9/11 video footage sitting on the right-hand side of Osama bin Laden. Dubbed “the brains behind al-Qaeda,” al-Zawahiri became bin Laden’s top deputy after the Egyptian physician had matriculated through the ranks of the Muslim Brothers.

Muslim Brotherhood veterans have played a prominent role during every phase of bin Laden’s terrorist odyssey. As a college student he was mentored by Abdullah Azzam, a Palestinian Brother, who convinced the young Saudi to join the anti-Soviet jihad in Afghanistan, a cause embraced by Islamists worldwide, moderates and radicals alike, after the Red Army invaded in 1979. That same year, Islamists Shiite revolutionaries led by the Ayatollah Khomeini overthrew America’s longtime partner, the Shah of Iran. These tumultuous events underscored the geopolitical importance of the Saudi connection to unnerved US officials. Henceforth, Saudi Arabia would serve as a Sunni Muslim bulwark against Shiite extremism, while also matching the United States dollar for dollar in support of the Afghan mujahedin guerillas who were fighting against the Soviets.

In 1984, Azzam and bin Laden jointly set up the Service Bureay, based in Peshawar, which played a pivotal role in organizing Islamic militants from 43 countries, including the United States, who flocked to Pakistan’s North-West Frontier territory to join the anti-communist jihad. With contacts spread across North Africa and the Middle East the Muslim Brotherhood was instrumental in recruiting many of these foreign Islamic volunteers. Jane’s Defence Weekly estimates that 14,000 of the so-called “Afghan Arabs” (though none were Afghans and many were not Arabs) trained in guerrilla camps, where paramilitary drills were infused with radical Islamic teachings. Some of these outside agitators fought along side CIA-backed mujahedin units during clashes with the Red Army.

Once again, an off-the-shelf approach to nation-tampering was deemed preferable by US intelligence as the Afghanistan operation grew by leaps and bounds during the 1980’s. It became the largest covert intervention in the CIA’s history, with Washington’s funneling more than $3 billion worth of aid and military equipment to the mujahedin through Pakistan military intelligence, which served as a conduit for American and Saudi largesse. In Ghost Wars, a compelling narrative history of the CIA’s Afghan imbroglio Steve Coll discusses how this cut-out arrangement provided US intelligence with a layer of deniability while its Pakistan proxy pushed aside traditional Afghan mujahedin organizations lacking the requitsite fundamentalist ardor and boosted the four mujahedin groups led by militants aligned with the Muslim Brotherhood. The CIA, according to Cole, never pressed Pakistan to back the more moderate, nationalist-oriented mujahedin rebels instead of the radical Islamic Afghan leaders who touted the writings of Sayyid Qutb, which were translated into local Afghan dialects.

A well-known figure among the Muslim Brotherhood-linked Afghan factions, bin Laden also collaborated with top Saudi and Pakistani espionage officers. Although bin Laden had no official contact with the CIA, his efforts to create an Islamic foreign legion were generally looked upon with favor by US intelligence. The more anti-communist forces in the fray the better, they figured. The going assumption was that these bearded extremists could be revved up and covertly deployed when Washington needed “a cheap no-American-casualties way to fight the Soviet Union,” as Baer put it.

Some of Baer’s colleagues at the CIA thought the foreign legion contingent should be formally endorsed and expanded. “The CIA examined ways to increase their participation… but nothing came of it,” then-CIA deputy director Robert Gates said of the Islamic volunteers, who, if nothing else, were useful from a public relations perspective. The burgeoning international brigade was touted as proof that the entire Muslim world stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the Afghan mujahedin against the Evil Empire. No one at the CIA reckoned that the foreign legionnaires had their own agenda.

Even before the Red Army withdrew the last of its regiments from Afghanistan in 1989, bin Laden was already hatching ambitious plans to wage a worldwide jihad. The Soviet pull out prompted a wholesale scattering of foreign volunteers, who retruned to their respective countries imbued witht eh spirit of Islamic revolution and ready to carry on the struggle. About 1000 militants remained in Afghanistan, many of these men could not go home because they were wanted for crimes against the state. This self-selecting stay-behind network formed the core of al-Qaeda, which became even leaner and meaner when bin Laden transferred his base of operations to the Sudan in 1991.

For the next five years, bin Laden and his inner circle were holed up in Khartoum courtesy of Sheikh Hassan al-Turabi, the Sorbonne-educated head of the Muslim Brotherhood’s Sudanese branch. Dubbed the “black pope”, Turabi came to power on the heels of a military coup and immediately announced that Islamic law would be strictly enforced in his country. He was hin Laden’s protector during this crucial period of exile, together they hosted strategic powwow’s with representatives from several Islamic terrorist organizations, including Hamas, a Palestinian offshoot of the Brotherhood. There was considerable debate among jihadists over whether to target the “near enemy” (apostate regimes in the Muslim world or the “far enemy ,” (the Western powers thwarting the implementation of Islamic rule.) More militants parted ways with al-Qaeda when it’s leadership dominated by Egyptian veterans of the Muslim Brotherhood , decided to go after “the head of the snake, “ which is how they described the United States.

By a process of elimination, only the hardest of the hardcore stayed with bin Laden when he and 150 border-hopping Islamic radicals and their families moved back to Afghanistan in 1996. Shortly thereafter, according to the official September 11 Commission, Khalid Shekh Mohammed, a tubby young engineer, approached bin Laden and pitched an outlandish idea to hijack jets and fly them into buildings in New York and Washington. This was the origin of the collective muder-suicide assaults that killed nearly 3000 people on September 11, 2001. Mohammed, the self-described mastermind of the 9/11 operation who had cut his teeth with the Kuwaiti chapter of the Muslim Brotherhood, is now in US custody.

The emergence of anti-American terrorist cadres from the bowels of the CIA’s proxy war in Afghanistan took US spymasters by surprise. It was blunder as colossal as the CIA’s inability to predict the collapse of Soviet Bloc Communism. ”Conceptually we failed,” admits Baer, “ We didn’t consider Sunni Islam to be a threat to the West…We didn’t want to see it.” While CIA operatives fixated on Shiite Iran as the fount of religiously motivated terrorism, a stateless network of Muslim Brotherhood-inspired zealots morphed into a worldwide insurgency. “The militant wing of the Muslim Brotherhood is essentially what we’re facing today.” asserts Baer.

Perhaps Col. W. Patrick Lang, formerly with the Defense Intelligence Agency, summed it up best by nothing the similarities between the Brotherhood and the Irish Republican Army (IRA). “There is the main IRA, whick=h eschews violence, and the “Provisional IRA, the armed wing. And there’s also the ‘Real IRA’, a more extreme spin-off from the Provisionals …These groups tend to fracture as they develop almost theological – and in the xcase of the Muslim Brothers actual theological – differences. They find each other’s projected courses of action to be insufficiently zealous or earnest or pure enough. And in Islam, of course, there’s no hierarchy to settle ideological disputes.

And so it continues as al-Qaeda chieftains criticize the Muslim Brotherhood for its accommodating stance toward secular rulers in Egypt and Jordan, where several Ikhwani sit in parliament. At the same time, moderate Brotherhood leaders – the Islamist movement’s elder establishment – have condemned terrorist attacks by bin Laden as “a grave sin,” Pursuant to their long-term strategy of using peaceful means to turn Egypt into an Islamic republic, the Muslim Brotherhood have taken over numerous trade unions and professional associations, while operating banks, businesses, health clinics, schools, and legal services that often outperform shabby government institutions. With more than two million members divided into several thousand semi-clandestine cells throughout the country, the Brothers are still subjected to episodic police raids, incarceration and torture. But these measures have failed to stifle popular support for a mainstream movement that, for a better or worse, expresses the concerns, aspirations and legitimate grievances of Muslims from all social strata.

America’s invasion of Iraq – “an avaricious, premeditated unprovoked was against a foe who posed no immediate threat,” as one CIA agent scathingly put it – has energized the entire spectrum of Islamist groups. While they give voice to anti-US passions and pervasive feelings of the injustice in Muslim communities, moderate Islamist also risk losing followers to fanatical jihad cults spawned by the Brotherhood. (The opiate of the masses turns out to be a gateway drug, as well.) According to a recent report by the London-based International Institute for Strategic Studies, Iraq is now a fertile breeding ground for new recruits that have swelled al-Qaeda’s ranks to more than 18,000 potential terrorists.

In response to a plethora of social and economic ills that bedevil the Muslim world, the answer from every Brotherhood chapter and affiliate has always been the same: Islam is the solution,” Ironically, US spymasters also once saw Islam as the solution to America’s problems in the Middle East. Fifty years ago, a CIA cad dreamed of an Arab messiah, “a Moslem Billy Graham,” who would plunk for US priorities in Egypt and beyond. That’s how it all began. And now, ironically, it’s onward Christian soldiers with Rev. Franklin Graham, Billy’s prodigal son, denigrating Islam and trumpeting the clash of civilizations as he dispatches American missionaries to save souls in US-occupied Iraq. Aself-fulfilling prophet, Franklin carries on like God’s gift to bin Laden, who must be laughing somewhere in his cave or his grave.

[mervinwessel-blog]

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[barbarapfister-blog]

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 MATH 533 Final Exam Set 1

  (TCO D)     PuttingPeople2Work has a growing business placing out-of-work MBAs. They     claim they can place a client in a job in their field in less than 36     weeks. You are given the following data from a sample.     Sample size: 100     Population standard deviation: 5     Sample mean: 34.2     Formulate a hypothesis test to evaluate the claim. (Points : 10)     Ho: µ = 36; Ha: µ ≠ 36     Ho: µ ≥ 36; Ha: µ < 36     Ho: µ ≤ 34.2; Ha: µ > 34.2     Ho: µ > 36; Ha: µ ≤ 36

Ans. b. H0 must always have equal sign, < 36 weeks 2. (TCO B) The Republican party is interested in studying the number of republicans that might vote in a particular congressional district. Assume that the number of voters is binomially distributed by party affiliation (either republican or not republican). If 10 people show up at the polls, determine the following: Binomial distribution

10

n

0.5

p

 X

P(X)

cumulative  probability

 0

0.00098

0.00098

 1

0.00977

0.01074

 2

0.04395

0.05469

 3

0.11719

0.17188

 4

0.20508

0.37695

 5

0.24609

0.62305

 6

0.20508

0.82813

 7

0.11719

0.94531

 8

0.04395

0.98926

 9

0.00977

0.99902

 10

0.00098

1.00000

 What is the probability that no  more than four will be republicans? (Points : 10)  38%  12%  21%  62%

Ans. a  look at x=4, cumulative probability    3. (TCO A) Company ABC had sales per month as listed below. Using  the Minitab output given, determine:  (A)  Range (5 points);  (B)  Median (5 points); and  (C)  The range of the data that would contain 68% of the results. (5  points).  Raw data: sales/month (Millions of $)  23  45  34  34  56  67  54  34  45  56  23  19  Descriptive Statistics: Sales

Variable

Total Count

Mean

StDev

Variance

Minimum

Maximum

Range

Sales

12

40.83

15.39

236.88

19.00

67.00

48.00

 Stem-and-Leaf Display: Sales  Stem-and-leaf of Sales N = 12  Leaf Unit = 1.0

1

1

9

3

2

33

3

2

6

3

444

6

3

6

4

6

4

55

4

5

4

3

5

66

1

6

1

6

7

Reference: (TCO A) Company ABC had sales per month as listed below. Using the MegaStat output given, determine: (A) Range (5 points) (B) Median (5 points) (C) The range of the data that would contain 68% of the results. (5 points)

Raw data: sales/month (Millions of $) 19 34 23 34 56 45 35 36 46 47 19 23

count 12 mean 34.75 sample variance 146.20 sample standard deviation 12.09 minimum 19 maximum 56 range 37

Stem and Leaf plot for # 1 stem unit = 10 leaf unit = 1

count

12.00000

mean

34.75000

sample variance

146.20455

sample standard deviation

12.09151

minimum

19.00000

maximum

56.00000

range

37.00000

1st quartile

23.00000

median

34.50000

3rd quartile

45.25000

interquartile range

22.25000

mode

19.00000

 4. (TCO C, D) Tesla Motors needs to buy axles for their new car. They  are considering using Chris Cross Manufacturing as a vendor. Tesla’s  requirement is that 95% of the axles are 100 cm ± 2 cm. The following data is  from a test run from Chris Cross Manufacturing. Should Tesla select them as a  vendor? Explain your answer.  Descriptive statistics

count

16

mean

99.850

sample variance

4.627

sample standard deviation

2.151

minimum

96.9

maximum

104

range

7.1

population variance

4.338

population standard deviation

2.083

standard error of the mean

0.538

tolerance interval 95.45% lower

95.548

tolerance interval 95.45% upper

104.152

margin of error

4.302

1st quartile

98.850

median

99.200

3rd quartile

100.550

interquartile range

1.700

mode

103.000

(Points : 25)

 Reference: Chegg

Tesla Motors needs to buy axles  for their new car. They are considering using Chris Cross Manufacturing as a  vendor. Tesla’s requirement is that 95% of the axles are 100 cm ± 5  cm. The following data is MegaStat output from a test run from Chris Cross  Manufacturing.

Descriptive statistics  count: 16  mean: 99.938  sample variance: 2.313  sample standard deviation: 1.521  minimum: 97  maximum: 102.9  range: 5.9  population variance: 2.169  population standard deviation: 1.473  standard error of the mean: 0.380  tollerance interval 95.45% lower: 96.896  tolerance interval 95.45% upper: 102.979  half-width: 3.042

1st quartile: 98.900  median: 99.850  3rd quartile: 100.475  interquartile range: 1.575  mode: 98.900

Question: Should Tesla select them  as a vendor? Explain your answer.

Answers (1)

·          Given that,

Tesla Motors needs to buy axles  for their new car.  They are considering using Chris Cross Manufacturing as a vendor.  Tesla’s requirement is that 95% of the axles are 100 cm ± 5 cm.  The following data is MegaStat output from a test run from Chris  Cross Manufacturing:

Descriptive statistics  count: 16  mean: 99.938  sample variance: 2.313  sample standard deviation: 1.521  minimum: 97  maximum: 102.9  range: 5.9  population variance: 2.169  population standard deviation: 1.473  standard error of the mean: 0.380  tollerance interval 95.45% lower: 96.896  tolerance interval 95.45% upper: 102.979  half-width: 3.042

1st quartile: 98.900  median: 99.850  3rd quartile: 100.475  interquartile range: 1.575  mode: 98.900  Now, we have to construct 95% confidence interval for the data from

the Chris Cross Manufacturing

  (TCO D)     A PC manufacturer claims that no more than 2% of their machines are     defective. In a random sample of 100 machines, it is found that 4.5% are     defective. The manufacturer claims this is a fluke of the sample. At a .02     level of significance, test the manufacturer’s claim, and explain your     answer.

Test and CI for One Proportion

Test of p = 0.02 vs p > 0.02

Sample

X

N

Sample p

98% Lower Bound

Z-Value

P-Value

1

4

100

0.040000

0.000000

1.43

0.077

Reference:

Set up the hypotheses:

H0: p <= 0.02

Ha: p > 0.02

 This is a one tailed test, since we will only reject for high proportions.

 Since we are using a 0.02 level of significance (it’s just chance that the hypotheses happen to have the same value as this), we’ll reject the null hypothesis if our P Value is less than 0.02.

 The computed P value from Megastat was 0.0371.

This is higher than the significance level.

Therefore, we do not reject H0:.

We can say that the proportion is still less than or equal to 2%, and this was a fluke.

 Final Page 2

1. (TCO B) The following table gives the number of visits to  recreational facilities by kind and geographical region.  (Points : 30)

Ans.

East

South

Midwest

West

Totals

Local Park

55

328

29

52

464

National Park

233

514

204

251

1202

State Park

100

526

65

102

793

Totals

388

1368

298

405

2459

(A) Referring to the above table,  if a visitor is chosen at random, what is the probability that he or she is  either from the South or from the West? (15 points)  (B) Referring to the above table, given that the visitor is from the Midwest,  what is the probability that he or she visited a local park? (15 points)

a.  Total people = 2459

South + West = 1368 + 405 = 1773

probability — divide these:

1773/2459 = approx 0.721

b.

Total Midwest = 298

Midwest local park = 29

Divide:

  (TCO B, F)     The length of time Americans exercise each week is normally distributed     with a mean of 15.8 minutes and a standard deviation of 2.2 minutes

X

P(X≤x)

P(X≥x)

Mean

Std dev

11

.0146

.9854

15.8

2.2

15

.3581

.6419

15.8

2.2

21

.9910

.0090

15.8

2.2

24

.9999

.0001

15.8

2.2

p(lower)

p(upper)

(A) Analyze the output above to determine what percentage of Americans will exercise between 11 and 21 minutes per week. (15 points) (B) What percentage of Americans will exercise less than 15 minutes? If 1000 Americans were evaluated, how many would you expect to have exercised less than 15 minutes? (15 points) (Points : 30)

 MATH 533 Final Exam Set 2

  (TCO A) Seventeen salespeople reported the following     number of sales calls completed last month.

72         93         82         81         82         97         102       107       119 86         88         91         83         93         73         100       102

Compute the mean, median, mode,     and standard deviation, Q1, Q3, Min, and Max     for the above sample data on number of sales calls per month.     b. In the context of this situation, interpret the Median, Q1,     and Q3. (Points : 33)

  (TCO B) Cedar Home Furnishings has collected data on     their customers in terms of whether they reside in an urban location or a suburban     location, as well as rating the customers as either “good,” “borderline,”     or “poor.” The data is below.

 Urban

Suburban

Total

Good

60

168

228

Borderline

36

72

108

Poor

24

40

64

Total

120

280

400

If you choose a customer at random, then find the probability that the customer

a. is considered “borderline.”

   (TCO B) Historically, 70% of your customers at Rodale     Emporium pay for their purchases using credit cards. In a sample of 20     customers, find the probability that

a. exactly 14 customers will pay for their purchases using credit cards.

  (TCO C) An operations analyst from an airline company     has been asked to develop a fairly accurate estimate of the mean refueling     and baggage handling time at a foreign airport. A random sample of 36     refueling and baggage handling times yields the following results.

Sample Size = 36 Sample Mean = 24.2 minutes Sample Standard Deviation = 4.2 minutes

a. Compute the 90% confidence interval for the population mean refueling and baggage time.

  (TCO C) The manufacturer of a certain brand of     toothpaste claims that a high percentage of dentists recommend the use of     their toothpaste. A random sample of 400 dentists results in 310     recommending their toothpaste.

a. Compute the 99% confidence interval for the population proportion of dentists who recommend the use of this toothpaste.

   (TCO D) A Ford Motor Company quality improvement team     believes that its recently implemented defect reduction program has     reduced the proportion of paint defects. Prior to the implementation of     the program, the proportion of paint defects was .03 and had been     stationary for the past 6 months. Ford selects a random sample of 2,000     cars built after the implementation of the defect reduction program. There     were 45 cars with paint defects in that sample. Does the sample data     provide evidence to conclude that the proportion of paint defects is now     less than .03 (with a = .01)? Use the hypothesis testing procedure     outlined below.

a. Formulate the null and alternative hypotheses.

  (TCO D) A new car dealer calculates that the dealership     must average more than 4.5% profit on sales of new cars. A random sample     of 81 cars gives the following result.

Sample Size = 81 Sample Mean = 4.97% Sample Standard Deviation = 1.8%

Does the sample data provide evidence to conclude that the dealership averages more than 4.5% profit on sales of new cars (using a = .10)? Use the hypothesis testing procedure outlined below.

a. Formulate the null and alternative hypotheses.

  (TCO E) Bill McFarland is a real estate broker who     specializes in selling farmland in a large western state. Because Bill     advises many of his clients about pricing their land, he is interested in     developing a pricing formula of some type. He feels he could increase his     business significantly if he could accurately determine the value of a     farmer’s land. A geologist tells Bill that the soil and rock     characteristics in most of the area that Bill sells do not vary much. Thus     the price of land should depend greatly on acreage. Bill selects a sample     of 30 plots recently sold. The data is found below (in Minitab), where     X=Acreage and Y=Price ($1,000s).

PRICE

ACREAGE

PREDICT

60

20.0

50

130

40.5

250

25

10.2

 300

100.0

 85

30.0

 182

56.5

 115

41.0

 24

10.0

 60

18.5

 92

30.0

 77

25.6

 122

42.0

 41

14.0

 200

70.0

 42

13.0

 60

21.6

 20

6.5

 145

45.0

 61

19.2

 235

80.0

 250

90.0

 278

95.0

 118

41.0

 46

14.0

 69

22.0

 220

81.5

 235

78.0

 50

16.0

 25

10.0

 290

100.0

   Correlations: PRICE, ACREAGE   Pearson correlation of PRICE and ACREAGE = 0.997 P-Value = 0.000

Regression Analysis: PRICE versus ACREAGE   The regression equation is PRICE = 2.26 + 2.89 ACREAGE

Predictor      Coef  SE Coef       T      P Constant      2.257    2.231    1.01  0.320 ACREAGE     2.89202  0.04353   66.44  0.000

S = 7.21461  R-Sq = 99.4%  R-Sq(adj) = 99.3%

Analysis of Variance

Source          DF      SS      MS        F      P Regression       1  229757  229757  4414.11  0.000 Residual Error  28    1457      52 Total           29  231215

Predicted Values for New Observations

New Obs      Fit  SE Fit       95% CI            95% PI 1   146.86    1.37  (144.05, 149.66) (131.82, 161.90) 2   725.26    9.18  (706.46, 744.06) (701.35, 749.17)XX

XX denotes a point that is an extreme outlier in the predictors.

Values of Predictors for New Observations

New Obs  ACREAGE 1       50 2      250

Analyze the above output to determine the regression     equation.

   (TCO E) An insurance firm wishes to study the     relationship between driving experience (X1, in years), number of driving     violations in the past three years (X2), and current monthly auto     insurance premium (Y).  A sample of 12 insured drivers is selected at     random.  The data is given below (in MINITAB):

Y

X1

X2

Predict X1

Predict X2

74

5

2

8

1

38

14

0 

 50

6

1

  63

10

3

  97

4

6

  55

8

2

  57

11

3

  43

16

1

  99

3

5

  46

9

1

  35

19

0 

 60

13

3

    Regression Analysis: Y versus X1, X2     The regression equation is Y = 55.1 – 1.37 X1 + 8.05 X2

Predictor     Coef  SE Coef      T      P Constant    55.138    7.309   7.54  0.000 X1         -1.3736   0.4885  -2.81  0.020 X2           8.053    1.307   6.16  0.000

S = 6.07296   R-Sq = 93.1%   R-Sq(adj) = 91.6%

Analysis of Variance

Source          DF      SS      MS      F      P Regression       2  4490.3  2245.2  60.88  0.000 Residual Error   9   331.9    36.9 Total           11  4822.3

Predicted Values for New Observations

New Obs    Fit  SE Fit      95% CI          95% PI 1  52.20    2.91  (45.62, 58.79)  (36.97, 67.44)

Values of Predictors for New Observations

New Obs    X1    X2 1  8.00  1.00

Correlations: Y, X1, X2   Y      X1 X1  -0.800 0.002

X2   0.933  -0.660 0.000   0.020

Cell Contents: Pearson correlation P-Value

a. Analyze the above output to determine the multiple regression equation.

  MATH 533 Final Exam Set 3

MATH 533 Final Exam Set 4

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