#alex x helen

[icebluecyanide]

Alex Rider + references to his mother S03E06 & S03E07 & S03E08

He had seen photographs of this woman and he was astonished to find her here. He knew that he was looking at his mother. He tried to get up, but he couldn’t. He wanted to hold her hand, but his arms would no longer obey him. He wasn’t breathing any more, but he hadn't noticed. The man and the woman stepped forward out of the crowd. The man said nothing; he was trying to hide his emotions. But the woman leant down and reached out a hand. Only now did Alex realize that he had been looking for her all his life. She reached out and touched him, her finger finding the exact spot where there was a small hole in his shirt. Scorpia, Chapter 20: A Mother's Touch - Anthony Horowitz

[leavemealoneplsandthx]

Okay everyone in the cod fandom thirsting over mw characters, it’s time to introduce u mfs to the black ops world cuz honestly I’m tired of the lack of appreciation and fanfics (mostly fanfics) these people get.

Lemme introduce you to some of the main baes

This mf right here is a grade a ASSHOLE but it’s why we love him. Honestly if you love effed up relationships and angst you should read some of the bell x adler fics going on. Bell is YOU. It’s the customisable character in Cold War who Russell Adler brainwashed and it’s a whole thing and it’s toxic af to pair them but I fuggin loveeee itttt (second pic posted by @adlerboi)

Alex Mason <3333 my wifey for lifey

He was brainwashed by the Soviet’s and he’s our fave lil mentally scarred old man. Seriously tho it’s criminal the lack of love this guy gets he is so handsome

Ahhh mr frank Woods. Asshole but not in the same way Russell adler is. He’s the kinda guy who would act annoyed when you ask him to hold your drink but would protect that mf with his LIFE. Would treat you right but it’s a whole ‘dick to everyone else but sweet as pie to you’ kinda vibe yk?

Miss Helen Park. Honestly we should hate her. She manipulated and brainwashed us alongside adler but would I kiss her on the lips? Maybe possibly yes. Nuff said

The CRIMINALLY underrated navy seals commander david mason. Yes he’s alex masons son yes we keep it in the family here. He has some mental scars like his father but honestly who doesn’t?! Handsome as fuck, and so kind and respectful <3 I luv him

So please guys I beg you!! Play black ops 1, 2 and Cold War so we can get some love for these guys!!

If you like the sound of it please read this fic about adler x bell omg my heart

[robynator]

if john and helen lived it would've been ”you, me and steve (your 19/20 year old assassin apprentice that you tried to steer away from the lifestyle but instead he went to russia to kill his former boss and is now on the path to become one of the best contract killers in the world why is he still hanging around here, john, we have a CHILD—)”

[animefreak1145]

Church Bells(Adler x Bell!Reader xWoods)

Previous Intel | Next Intel

Sixth Intel | Watch

Description:

The world ended for Bell after Cuba.

The whole world followed soon after.

Zombies AU | Drabble Format

Warnings/Tags: Mature Rating, Graphic Violence, Dark Themes, Trauma, Body Horror, Gore, Major Character Death, Brainwashing, Post!Cuba, Pre!Solovetsky, No Solovetsky, Female Bell, Older Man/Younger Woman

Words: 1.6k

▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▛ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▟ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚

You were observing for days.

Picking apart the papers, the plans, the tools they have at their disposal with Sims. Hawkish tired baggy eyes, always seeming to stray at the itch of your skin that is getting irritated from your nails than anything else. No other outside source. (Nightmare.) 

It was hard for the others to cajole you out the cage you built around you, the storage room with the arcade game you used to play with but now is stock still. 

Dead. A waste of energy. 

(Why are you here again? Ah. Solovetsky. Always about going to Solovetsky. That’s all they need of you. They aren’t your friends. He’s not your friend.)

You even locked yourself in. To keep them out. To keep you in. Concentration. Watching. Planning. Eying. 

You had a fire to your ass and this time it wasn’t Adler that caused it, (his hands around your jaw or your throat, squeezing your cheeks together unforgivingly or pressing down warningly to your carotid and air supply, Bell, open the door. He said good work. ) but instead it was your head, your thoughts, the feeling of blood pumping to your ears and grim determination clenching your jaw and hands around the pens and pencils and office supplies you have hoarded in this cage you made yourself.

You ignored how Woods cursed at you and your behavior, but your eyes couldn’t help but study his deep blue. The ocean normally with its high tides to make up for the hurricane of a man, only for it to be swimming in concern and worry on what is causing this frantic episode of yours. 

The tornado of a man cursed at you with no intent, looking haggard with tired shoulders as if he was there in the cage with you. Only for them to tense when Adler, who is ice and cool and hard to read and what is that look in his eyes when he stares past your cage and into your face, tells Woods to leave you be, to let you plan the finishing touches needed for the cell tower and you will come out when you decide to. 

“Stop babying her.”

“Wha—you conniving fucker,” the hurricane spat at the arctic breeze, dangerous and unbelieving wild grin upon his face. “You ordered her to do this. You think I’m going to let you dig around your dirty shitty claws around her brain again? You used the trigger phrase, didn’t you? Didn’t you?!”

(You talked to Woods once, that the trigger would still probably work. The lot of you have no time to deprogram a terrorist. You were concerned, worrying your lip and how easy it would be to become a mindless puppet again. Frank, all grim faced, only tugged you to him with your eyes widening as you met the gear covered chest. Safe . Secure . The immovable mountain and the chaotic hurricane turned firm like a rooted tree that shall never bend. Can you make a home here in these roots? Is he letting you? And a rumble to your ear “You don’t have to worry your pretty little head about that. No one will say that sentence again. Until we get you back to Washington and we’ll fix you up, you’ll be able to say the words yourself as easy as you can decode.”)

Face to face.

The storm and ice. 

And, despite you wanting to see Frank punch the ever living lights out of Adler again, you stepped out the cage and intervened with a gentle yet firm hand to Woods shoulder before Mason or Sims could, back to Adler who you can feel his eyes on you.

When he glanced down in bewilderment, he met your grateful little smile playing on your lips and a shake of your head.

“It’s okay. He didn’t do any of that. I wanted to.” Woods didn’t seem to believe you, and your hand wandered from his shoulder to his wrist to do a squeeze of his hand. Woods blinked, eyes on the hold before meeting your somber ones. “We need this plan. Adler is right on the importance of this. We need that cell tower.  Him and I gotta do this right with all of you. To plan with all of you. ”

Woods face began to sour right when you mentioned Adler. Glancing up to where Adler was only to sour more. 

He tugged his hand away and turned his  back on you. You tried to not let it affect you. (He always touches you and accepts yours like you accept his. He’s not distant.) 

“Yeah, yeah. I got it. Just don’t…” his tone lost his gumption when he turned his face back towards you. You can spot his swallow before he waved a hand flippantly, (not the hand you touched. The hand you touched is tucked in his jacket pocket. Like a secret.) before he made a dramatic puff of air out his mouth. “Just don’t fall over dead or electrocute your brain over there.”

The joke fell flat, your brows pinched in concern and your back still itched with eyes on you.

You turned, almost missing the smug smirk Adler had around his cigarette but not missing his upturned brow when he looked at you. 

He dipped his head in a semblance of a nod, nicotine smoke around them both as he breathed, “Don’t let him keep treating you like glass. You’re not made of it.” 

And off he went, whisking away to his corner of the safehouse. 

Your jaw clenched when his scent and presence left you, irritation building at the pretense(How would he know how you wanted to be treated? He doesn’t know you. You used to lick up those small nods as if they were ambrosia, his pride towards you like nectar. He broke you. He can’t tell you what to do.) before you went back to your cage. 

Later, after your three day planning confinement, with you and Park atop a nearby building of the cell tower to study the zombie horde and the strange crystals that keep appearing like never ending amethysts, you were questioned by the MI6 agent.

Or what may be left of the MI6.

“Is Woods a wise choice, Bell?”

The question came from left field(Woods taught you that saying) and it made you take off your binoculars, your face twisted into deep befuddlement.

“What?”

Park’s face didn’t change, it was the expression where she expected no nonsense. Her attention on you and not the sniper rifle who has an impressive scope and what she should be using to watch. 

“Don’t play the oblivious card, Bell. It doesn’t suit you.”

You were starting to get annoyed at the non answers. (You hate non answers. Hums that don’t mean anything or everything. You’re sick of it.)

“What are you talking about?”

Park huffed.

“This dance you’re doing with Woods. Is it genuine? Or are you trying to get back at Adler?”

Your eyes flashed, your grip on your binoculars tightening.

That’s all it goes back to. Your genuineness. 

(Stop lying, Bell. Start again and tell me how you met Perseus.)

“Frank and I are genuinely friends. Just like me and Mason are.” Park’s brows pinched together and you really want to shout at her but you stick with a hissed “What?” instead.

“You’re getting that look in your eyes when you look at Woods. And don’t think we can’t all see how touchy you two are with each other. Especially with what happened earlier.” (You touched Woods hand, yours were gloved. But you still felt it. How warm he can be. The curious inquisitive side of you wanted to know what would happen if your hand was bare, what would the valley of his knuckles feel like? Would it match the mountain of a man?) “Woods is…” Park cleared her throat. “Woods is showing deep care for you. But the last thing we need is something to split the team apart. So. Is it genuine?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, looking through the binoculars again to dismiss her.

“Didn’t you say to give a certain man a wide berth?” 

“And I’m glad for you for it. But Bell,” a hand moved stops yours, shifting the binoculars down and you were met with concerned gray eyes, a soft voice. “. . .Adler is the type of man who has a hard time giving over control. Can you honestly say you won’t fall upon his hands again if he asked?”

“Adler,” you spat, fury and rage and vindictive and hot on your chest. It made Park’s eyes widen, which made you blink and deflate and appear like the kicked bunny that you are instead of what you were before. “. . . I know what kind of man Adler is. But. . . Woods is. . . Frank is. . . ” You clenched your teeth, bowed your head. “I. . . don’t want to hurt him. . . He’s been. He’s been kind to me. He makes me laugh.”

Park’s eyes gave you a once over, assessing and scrutinizing before you felt a hand atop your shoulder. A gentle squeeze. You looked up and spotted gentle eyes to match before she focused back on her sniper and looking through it.

“It seems we may have similar taste in men, Bell.”

You glanced at her in pity. 

Lazar always found a way to make her laugh.

If they achieve this, create the line again for Washington—to Weaver—than perhaps Park can find someone again. 

You and Adler’s plan can’t fail.

(Adler’s protege will make a way.)

▞ ▚

▛

▞ ▚

…hahahahahaha… hi?

I’m back in the writing pit of this universe! Thank you to @makeyourpeacenow and @junkyardhound with their wondrous works in AO3 I recently discovered thanks to me trying to scour for Adler x Bell fics again. And that inspired me. And for the BO6 trailer. Where I’m back to wanting the Officially Wanted Man Russell Adler.

May this fire not die until this fic is at least completed. And than maybe I can hop back into my other Adler x Bell fic.

Tag List: @tr1ppylady @parkeepingparker @weirdoartist21 @gojocat247 @mayaibnlaahad @dallmaistir @salvija @kylezkie4adler @asaltryefl @stupid-stinky @aurora-windu @zachfoxx121

Are any of you guys still here? I sure hope so. I miss you guys.

[alexa-mwll]

One not pay taxes and the other does not pay the pension.

Two irresponsible people looking at each other.

Good job brat- Adler says looking at her with a small smile.

I'm sure Anastasia is relieved that Adler didn't notice her glasses falling into the mud😞

Hello friends🦋✨, I want to apologize for not being active lately with regard to my drawings, I haven't been feeling very good in spirits, let's say.

I just want to tell you that I love you very much. You are all lovely people 🦋✨

No me queda nadamas que decir 💬

Adler kbron paga la pensión 😡

[efingcod]

Just What I Needed Chapter List

Last Update 2/23/24

ao3

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty | Twenty-One | Twenty-Two | Twenty-Three|Twenty-Four| Twenty-Five | Twenty-Six

Deleted Scenes: #1

[quizzyisdone]

The Colour Red (Pt. II) | Jason Hudson x Fem! Bell x Russell Adler

Chapter Title: Bad Moon Risin' Word Count: 3.7k Pairing: Jason Hudson x Fem! Bell x Russell Adler Masterlist Synopsis: Bell and Adler arrive at the safehouse in West Germany, where she meets the rest of her team, save Alex Mason and Frank Woods. The team gets down to business -- they've all gathered to take down the elusive Perseus, the infamous soviet agent whom they know next to nothing about, save for that he's planning something big. That much, Adler is sure of. To figure out their next move, Adler and Park use a memory recollection technique to help Bell recall Operation: Fracture Jaw, yet another memory Bell had lost due to her head injury two months prior. A/N: Hey! I'm back, totally not inspired by the new Black Ops VI trailer at all. Like, at all. Anyways, here is the next installment of my personal favorite series, The Colour Red. Keep in mind this is a slowburn fic, and sorry about the lack of Hudson in this chapter. I hope you enjoy! Warnings: Strong language, mentions of weapons, canon-typical violence.

**Title inspired by "Bad Moon Risin'" by Credence Clearwater Revival

[Part One] [Part Two]

You don't need to read part one to understand this chapter, btw

The car halted to a full stop as Bell fluttered open her eyes, Adler lightly shook her shoulder, stirring her even further awake. 

“Bell. Welcome to West Berlin” He gave a half-hearted smile, a cigarette between his teeth. Bell groggily roused herself from the passenger seat, watching Adler closely as he held the lighter close to his face, letting a puff of smoke blow back in the wind behind him.

The light from the flame illuminated the scarred half of his face, and she could see that where he had shaven was uneven and choppy, a stark contrast to the close shave on the “normal” side of his face. Still rather handsome, barring his scars. He had a classically attractive, well structured face, resembling that of movie stars such as Robert Redford. Blonde hair, blue eyes and very charismatic. He must have many women wrapped around his finger back in the states, Bell presumed.

Adler took one last glance at her, then began to approach a woman that was leaning against an old, worn garage door. Bell took in her features as well. 

She had an uncanny familiarity about her. She had silky, jet black hair cut and styled into a practical bob, unusually tall but athletically built, and she sported pragmatic yet stylish clothing. She had delicate, feminine features but still yet appeared to be able to keep up with the likes of a black ops legend such as Adler -- a strange dichotomy between graceful and deadly. 

Adler had told Bell that she was a legend in her own rite at MI6, that’s why he had requested her for the op. Apparently, it was true that while she was known for her lethality and pretty appearance, it was her brain, not the obvious honey trap she is, that he was interested in. Adler had joked several times that she was a walking cliche, a classic femme fatale type.  

The more Bell seemed to take in her appearance, her shattered memory would begin to piece itself together again. Her face. A red door. A jungle. Sterile white lights. Televisions. War footage. Then nothing. Whenever she was on the precipice of piecing her memory back together, it seemed it would shatter again.

Adler glanced back. “You comin’?” He said with a slight frown. Sheepishly, Bell nodded, not having realized she spent too much time what would appear to the others as staring into space for no apparent reason. 

Bell hurried to catch up with him, trailing behind Adler closely even as the oddly familiar, yet bitter scent of tobacco filled her nose. That closeness, she wondered, it may be obvious to Adler, which she could live with, but would it escape the notice of the others? She hated that, her clinginess to him, but it made some sense (at least that is how Bell would justify it) -- Adler was the only kind face she could remember after her fall. 

Although she didn’t want to admit it, she preferred to be close to him at all times. His presence was comforting, the anxiety she felt would fade away in an instant -- she could almost forget that she couldn’t remember. One might mistake the connection for romantic, as Hudson, their handler had pointed out rather astutely (and irritably) before they departed from Langley today.

 Bell couldn't help but notice the parallels either, he very much played the part of her knight in shining armor, saving her from sure death, never having left her side while she healed, gently guiding her as she navigated regaining her lost memory. Although she must admit she has lingered on such an idea, Bell recognized Adler very likely felt no such way towards her.

She knew his feelings towards her. They had been through hell and back together, saved each other's ass, and understood each other like no one else. Bell knew where she stood, something more than a friend but less than a lover. It was a strange, blurry purgatory between platonic affection and passionate love.  

He had helped her remember the basics. With his guidance, she now knew that her name was Anabelle Meyers, hence the name “Bell”. She was a cryptographer and a linguist working for MI6, she had spent the better part of a year in Vietnam with Adler when she began working a joint operation with MACV-SOG and MI6 and they’ve been friends for 13 years. Two months ago, on a solo operation, she had taken a long, hard fall, hitting her head. Bell would've died if Adler hadn't been there by random chance. Bell could recall that in perfect detail now, although it was fuzzy just a week ago. 

“Park.” He acknowledged and nodded towards her. He glanced back, noticing how Bell followed so closely behind him and smiled to himself. It gave him some kind of pride that she leaned on him as a protector of sorts. 

“She looks familiar.” Bell whispered as soon as they were out of earshot of Park. 

Adler stopped in his tracks for naught but a second, “Maybe you saw her at the Century House in London back in the day.” She knew that it wasn’t likely they had never been acquainted, nor ever having even met each other, but Bell let the conversation go -- chalking it up as some kind of weird deja vu nonsense. 

When the door opened it revealed a large warehouse-like room with a table set in the middle, a bulletin board with the face of man that was supposedly Perseus and a giant red circle around it (Bell quickly noticed how the picture gave her an uneasy pit in her stomach and her head would begin to hurt), an array of weapons upon a wall guarded by chain link fence with a lock, and all the other stereotypical features befitting a CIA safehouse. 

“We’ll talk later, okay?” Adler whispered to Bell as he approached the gathering of folks around the table set in the middle. “Bell, this is Helen Park, Lawrence Sims who you’ve already met, and Eleazar Azoulay. We just call him Lazar, though.” He introduced her to them.

Lazar gave her a friendly but quiet hello, Park nodded, and Sims simply stared daggers at her before turning his gaze back to Adler. “Mason and Woods are finishing some business in Kiev, but you’ll meet them later.”

“Do I know them?” Bell asked meekly and Park cocked an eyebrow, smirking to herself as she glanced at Adler, silently beckoning him to answer the question. 

“Ah,” Adler chuckled lightly. “No, you know them by reputation, but not, ah, personally.” Bell nodded in response before letting him continue. He turned back to the rest of the group, while Bell stood snug behind Adler. “There’s been a surge in Russian chatter for the past 48 hours. The CIA and DoD are tapping their inside sources for anything substantial, but no leads of Perseus so far.”

“MI6 has come up empty handed as well.” Park added.

“We’ll have to start somewhere, so we’re going back to 1968, Vietnam.” He strode towards to the bulletin board, pointing at a polaroid picture of Sims and Adler sitting side by side, labeled Operation Fracture Jaw. “One our closest encounters with Perseus. Bell, you don’t remember this, of course, but you were there.”

“Fracture Jaw, what a steaming pile of shit that one was.” Sims grumbled.

“Also the first time where Perseus pinged our radar. While you were on the ground, you dug up some intel on him.” Adler continued, he held a folder with a dried, bloody handprint and Cyrillic printed on the front. “We’re gonna help jog your memory so you can crack this. At the time, the CIA’s best analysts couldn’t decode that thing, but we’re gonna have you take a shot.” Adler placed his hand on Bell’s shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. 

“Yeah.” Sims scoffed. “If even Weaver couldn’t crack it, what makes you think she can?” He had said it with such venom, such doubt that it made Bell wonder what had happened between them. She made a mental note to ask Adler about it later, but for the moment, she hardened her gaze, attempting to make herself seem less vulnerable than she truly felt.

“It can’t hurt, Sims. She’s always been one of the best, you know that.” Adler said pointedly. “Anyways, we’re gonna use a hypnosis technique. While our little Bell will be in a hypnotic state, I will be reading the operation report, retelling every detail of what happened when she and you were boots on ground. Theoretically, she should remember it all and be able to decode it.”

Sims shrugged, Park and Lazar nodded in affirmation. The group disbanded wordlessly, Park headed over to the computer by the gun rack with Lazar trailing behind and Sims went over the gate that locked the chain link fence. That had left her and Adler, as he lit another cigarette (his fourth in the last couple of hours, Bell noted) and sat at a chair in front of the evidence board. 

He stared quietly at it, his mouth was set in a frown but his sunglasses had made it impossible to even begin to guess what the man was thinking. 

“Adler,” Bell spoke quietly, tapping his shoulder. Adler smiled ever so slightly, the small gesture was a welcome change from Sims’ behavior just a moment ago. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Anything, kid.” He said coolly, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“That memory exercise we’re doing, we can use it to recover some of my memories?” A glint of hope appeared in her chestnut eyes.

He chuckled, low and husky. “Ain’t that exactly what we’re doing, Bell?” She rolled her eyes but gave a small laugh in return.

“You know what I mean. Like, the memories that aren’t from war or anything like that. Something a bit happier.”

Adler grimaced then sighed, ashing his cigarette and sitting up straighter, and the small smile that appeared on Bell’s face vanished, like she knew he was about to tell her some unfortunate news. The pair sat in an awkward silence as Adler thought about how to break it to her.

“We can’t really.” He reached for her hand, giving it a light squeeze before pulling away. “The memory exercise only works when you have either one or two things; a written documentation of a memory that we can actually get our hands on or someone who was also there that can recall the memory and tell it to ya.”

“Oh.”

“When we found you, you didn’t have a journal or anything on you. Not even dog tags. No one would have been able to identify you if I wasn’t there.” He pursed his lips, offering a small apologetic smile. “Sorry, Bell.”

“Well I mean, we’ve been friends for a while. What do you know about me? Anything about my family?” The hopefulness had returned to Bell’s eyes, and Adler could feel a lump forming in his throat as he thought deeply. 

“Uh, well,” He cleared his throat. “You never spoke anything of them really, it seemed a sore spot for ya so none of us ever really pried.” She glanced down, looking utterly defeated as she sniffled. Adler tried to lighten the conversation at least a little. This wasn’t the place nor the time. “I know that you used to have a nicotine addiction worse than me.”

Bell chuckled. “I still crave them all the time.”

Adler chuckled, clapping her shoulder. “Tell you what,” He said, reaching into his pocket to grab his cigarettes. He handed one to her and she placed it between her teeth, giggling a little as he lit it for her. “I think you deserve at least one. Old habits die hard.” She took a drag, blowing a playful ‘O’ into his face. “Atta girl. I’ll get you a pack tomorrow.”

“I knew I liked you for some reason.” She smiled, the first genuine smile Adler had ever seen out of the woman.

“I’ve always been an enabler of your bad habits.” 

__

January 26th, 1968

Camp Haskins, South Vietnam

0700

“Bell, time to wake up” A raspy voice had startled her awake, the boot of the offender shaking the fold up chair she had practically passed out in. She groggily opened her eyes to find her new teammate with a shit-eating grin on his face. “It’s crank time.” 

“I’m up” She grumbled, rubbing her eyes. He swiped the chair back to the ground where Bell had been leaning, causing the legs to harshly meet the floor and she nearly fell forward. The man chuckled lightly.

“C’mon sleeping beauty, you knew we were doing this.”

“Yeah, I know.” The exhaustion was still evident in her voice as she rose from the chair, grabbing the M16 she had left leaning against the wall. She followed behind him, taking in the scene around her as she left the tent, the morning sun already beating against her skin.

It hadn’t been her first choice, being assigned as an agent working boots on ground with MACV-SOG, and it certainly wasn’t her first choice to be placed in the middle of buttfuck nowhere Vietnam. Her work was typically confined to that of a desk in an office, in the comfort of air conditioning and without the threat of an enemy attack at a moment’s notice. However, given her limited but notable military work, her handler thought she would be wasted back home in the comfort of an office in London. 

Her handler was of course right, but she wished he wasn’t as the stench of gunsmoke, gasoline, and body odor filled her nose. She watched about a dozen shirtless, grimy men going about their business. Most had simply ignored her, but a few had leered at her as she passed by, perhaps bedazzled by the first clean and somewhat attractive thing they had probably seen with their own eyes in months, Bell cockily mused to herself. 

“Camp Haskins, what a sausage fest.” Bell said quietly, chuckling.

“I heard that.” Adler yelled back good naturedly, and Bell half walked, half jogged to catch up with him. “You should be thankful, this place is a fuckin’ oasis compared to the shitstorm out there. Those boys keep it that way.”

“Yeah, yeah ‘God bless our troops’ and all that shit they keep telling us.” She jabbed Adler’s arm and he laughed softly. 

“I know it’s not what you’re used to, but your handler could’ve done worse for you.” They approached the landing zone, her other new teammate, and Adler’s best friend, she had determined based on their interactions, sat on the ledge of a helicopter ready and waiting for them. 

“Finally found Bell?” He hollered out over the sound of the whirling blades of the craft, without looking up from the magazine he was reading. Lawrence Sims was his name, he had dark skin with large, almost doe-like black eyes to match. He wasn’t a looker, but he had a friendly, jovial feel about him. Adler approached him, snatched the magazine from his hand to take a lingering glance at the lewd picture within. 

“That shit’s gonna make you go blind, Sims.”  He threw the magazine back at Sims as Bell loaded herself in. 

“That’s why I want it all right up here.” He replied jokingly, pointing his finger to his temple and shooting a playful, friendly wink at Bell.

“You’re not helping Bell’s accusation that this place is a sausage fest.”

“I’d say she’s made an astute observation, then.” Sims clapped his hand on her shoulder. She returned their grin. However, as the pilots began to load in, the mood shifted dramatically with it, like someone had sucked all the humor out of the situation and brought them back to the real world. Adler took this as his cue. 

“We got a new assignment. FOB 4 Ripcord is holding a vital asset that Charlie wants real bad.” He shouted over the deafening sound. 

“What kinda asset we talking about?” Sims asked. 

“The kind you don't ask about. Ripcord has been taking a hell of a beating, so it's our job to secure the asset and get the fuck out.” Bell began to stiffen and her palms began to sweat inexplicably, which Adler seemed to take notice of. “Relax. We got fast fliers providing combat air support for this mission. It'll be a walk in the park.”

“I’m holding you to that.” She said, putting on her headset as Adler took his leave. He climbed in the helicopter just opposite of them, and with that, about half the armada began to lift off. The chatter rang loud through the headset.

“Badger-niner-one good to go.”

“Badger-niner-two clear to go.”

“Badger-niner-three rotors up.”

Sims shuffled a bit, pulling a cassette tape from his pocket. “You like music?” He asked. Bell nodded, a lump beginning to form in her throat. “Good because I was gonna play it anyways.” He inserted the tape into the helicopter’s radio. He bobbed his head to the beat, singing to himself. His voice sounded muffled, the chatter over the radio began to sound more distant and then eventually, nonexistent. The only sound she could truly make out was the lyrics to the song Sims had played.

I see the bad moon a-risin' I see trouble on the way I see earthquakes and lightnin' I see bad times today

She felt sick, nauseous, the sound of the music only worsening the deep pit that began to build in her stomach, she began to sweat, hyperventilate, her vision became blurry, all the colors merging with the blinding light of the rising sun until-

__

Present Day

“Shit.” An indiscernible voice cursed, and with that, she felt a sharp jab on some unidentifiable place on her body and all faded into darkness again.

__

January 12th, 1968

“You all sitting comfortably?” Adler’s voice quirked up over the radio.

“Why do I feel like you’re about to tell us some bad news?” Bell quipped, noting how her palms were no longer sweaty the way they were just a second ago, calm had overcome her senses once more as she glanced around her. No one seemed to notice her little episode. Good.

“Because you’re a smart girl, Bell. But the news isn't bad. In fact it could be very, very good. The asset at Ripcord is gonna have to wait a little while. We're breaking off from the armada. Taking a detour.” 

Sims raised his eyebrows at this new development. “And... that's good because?”

“A source tipped us off that there may be a heavy hitter from town, a Soviet operative known as Perseus.” 

Bell’s head began to hurt again, the pain teetering on intolerable but she attempted to ignore it for the moment. However, the pain seemed to get worse and worse the more she tried not to think about it, and once again, her vision became blurry and all colors became one again.

“First time Perseus pinged our radar…”

__

Present Day

Bell found herself back in bed, the overhead light shining directly into her eyes again with a pounding headache to boot. She tentatively lifted her head and rolled onto her side, confused as to how she even ended up here. One moment, she was smoking with Adler and the next she was here. 

“Oh God…” She groaned painfully, grabbing the water bottle that had been left on the table adjacent to her bed, gulping down nearly half the bottle in one go. 

After she had come to, she began to hear the muffled voices from outside the door, although most of what they were saying was unintelligible, she managed to make out some words and phrases.

“...too much…”

“...resistance…try again soon” 

“...need something to…won’t be happy…” 

Bell couldn’t make out anymore, and the pounding in her skull overpowered her curiosity and she laid back down. She closed her eyes, yearning to let sleep take over her body once more when the door opened, Park and Adler walked in, both staring at her.

Adler’s eyes were of course, unreadable through his signature sunglasses but his expression was set into that of frustration, while Park’s seemed more confused than anything, her brow furrowed as if she was working out some complicated problem in her head.

“How are you feeling, Bell?” Park asked clinically. 

“Like I got hit by a bus.” She whined, Park nodded in assent as she scribbled something in a notebook.

“That’s to be expected.” Park replied, not looking up from what she was writing. Adler cleared his throat as he sat at the foot of the bed, beckoning Park to put the pen down. “Forgive me, I’ve just been documenting the recovery of your memories.” She smiled. “I have a vested interest in your case, seeing as the methods we are using to help you remember are relatively new and-”

“Cut to the chase, Park.” Adler interrupted, and Park sighed in frustration at his impatience. 

“The exercise we attempted tonight wasn’t as successful as we had hoped.” Park explained, reaching into her pocket to hand Bell two blue-colored pills. “For your head, love. You had some kind of reaction at the mention of Perseus during recollection that disrupted the hypnotic state. Pitiful thing, really. Your subconscious must have fairly negative feelings regarding your time spent with Adler in Vietnam.”

“That makes two of us, Bell.” Adler commented, the distaste evident in his tone as he stared off. “Not my favorite time to remember either.”

“Well, I do believe recollection can still be therapeutic for Bell and is essential to the task at hand. Get some sleep Bell, we’ll pick up where we left off in the morning,”  Park gave a courteous smile and left the small, sorry excuse for a room, closing the door behind her. Silence hung in the air for a moment as Bell and Adler were left alone.

“I’m counting on you, Bell. Get some good sleep, need ya sharp for this.” Adler broke the silence, standing from where he sat and heading for the door as well. As he turned the handle, he looked back towards Bell. “Remember, we’ve got a job to do.”

As she fell back asleep, the lyrics for the rest of that song tauntingly played again and again in her head. 

Hope you got your things together Hope you are quite prepared to die Looks like we're in for nasty weather One eye is taken for an eye

Tags: @mayasnowforest @kult6 -- I know you guys asked to be tagged like two years ago, but here y'all are <3

[bruhhhh-huhhhhh]

yooo is there any chance I can request parent headcanons for the safehouse crew (cod: bocw)??? been replaying the bo2 campaign and the Adler is Graves' father theory has a grip on me esp recently now that that mf is coming back

I imagine that Adler is a pretty distant parent, what with work in the CIA taking up most of his time and probably isn't able to see his kid much to begin with after the divorce, no doubt his ex wife has full custody of any of the children they had during that marriage. he's the kind of dad to buy his teenage kid expensive gifts to make up for the times he couldn't be there, usually related to something they were mildly interested in when they were like 7. And that thing is probably one of the only things he knows about them because they ranted about it to him when they were really young and naive. Russ is not as good as vocalizing his affection, but he's observant, and would zero in on any information and likes that his kid has when they express it... It's just that the usually don't with the distance between them. I think he does genuinely care about his child and still wants to show that they appreciate them, but just doesn't know how to properly connect with them on an emotional level, and usually doesn't even have the time. I don't think he'd treat his kid much differently based on their gender, he's still an emotionally-supressed mostly absentee father that his child would kind of just grow to resent as they get older. Adler is the 'he tried' dad. (I hc that Graves his kid is also the most likely to have a wild rebellious teens phase, and he'd kind of just let it happen so long as they aren't getting into any legal trouble because at that point their relationship would be so strained and he's just kinda apathetic about it. I think he's the type that would come home late to catch his kid smoking, and the only thing he'd do is ask why they started and if they know the consequences of it, then promptly asks for one and never brings it up again.)

Hudson, on the contrary, would be the perfect dad. Girl dad 100%, this man has a wife and two daughters (I think, might need to double check this one, but point still stands because I think he'd be good with girls). This man deserves a bo burnham 1985 edit. I think that he's really the type of guy who tries to squeeze in as much quality time with his family even with his work, and is the type to frequently show affection and pride for his children. Jason is completely soft for his wife and children, in contrast to how much of a no-nonsense hardass he is on the job. I am utterly convinced that this is the man who would always play along with his daughter's tea parties when he has tine and would never miss any of his son's games (he'd ask Jenny to record it for him if he's knows he's gonna be on a mission for a long time). I imagine that he really goes the extra mile to be the best role model for his kids, being both responsible and loving even with the limited presence he has because of his job. Hudson is the father figure some us needed in life ngl.

I don't think Mason would be an abusive dad contrary to what most people would take away from the one interaction we see with him and a very young David. I definitely think he'd have some major anger issues though, no doubt that trauma from The Numbers™️ and all the shit he's gone through as soldier and later CIA op would have an impact on him. He would never lay a hand on his own kid, but he's definitely shouted at them pretty frequently and has likely broken objects around them when he's angry. Much more so after his wife's death and being left as a single dad who barely has any idea what he's doing, and the only other person who can rein him in from it is Frank. I think he's more affectionate and less emotionally distant than Adler, but still just not as close as he should be to his child. He'd apologize for his outbursts and all but, being raised with traditional values from the 30s-40s, he isn't really the type to have those heartfelt talks about feelings because men are supposed to be strong and being emotional makes you weak and all that crap. Would be tougher with a son, and stricter with a daughter. Alex would become a lot more understanding and open over time when his kid grows older, and mellow out as an old man and just be proud of how they turned out despite how he was. The anger issues never really dissipates, but he learns to control it and be better for his kid for the remainder of his life. Mason is the dad you'd resent and have so much anxiety over in your teens and twenties but eventually make up with and get closure by your late thirties or so.

Woods would definitely be more of a fun uncle than a dad. More of the tough love type, but will always remind his kid that they're appreciated at the end of the day. But I also imagine he's a lot more reckless snd clumsy, specially as a first-time father. May not be perfect, has his own shortcomings in a lot of places, but he's really trying his best. I imagine that he probably tiptoed a lot when it came to raising David, trying not to yell at him too much and tried to be his anchor as much as he can after he was tricked into killing Alex (and then promptly going off on him when he shows face again after thirty years). Frank would be considerate and very vocal about his appreciation for his kid despite . Woods is the lovable old man that you'd have a lot of funny memories to look back on, and cussing you out is just his own way of saying he loves you.

I don't have as much thoughts on them but I think Park would be very overprotective, especially if she had a daughter. Would shelter her child and be very strict with them, making sure she knows how and where her kid is all the time, who her kid is with, and how safe they are. Would make her child wear a tracker watch and tell her all and any people they meet or see. Madam Shell's betrayal and her brother's death have definitely left a mark on her, and she would excessively worry about them at all times, to the point of it being suffocating and very invasive Lazar is the balance to this, more lenient and lets his kid have a right to privacy and freedom. Sure, he still worries a lot, but he has enough faith in his child to let then go off on their own when they're at an appropriate age. I also imagine that he gives the best best hugs. Sims would be somewhere in between, albeit more leaning on the stricter side.

AHHHH THIS TOOK ME SO LONG TO ANSWER I'M SORRY

bUuuuT

i love this idea so I'm gonna do silly little headcannons for it

How the Safehouse Crew treat their kid

Russell Adler

He's absolutely an absent dad

It's not that he does it on purpose, it's just what happens with his job

Russell tries so hard. So hard to be there, but a lot of the time he just can't because of work

If his kid does any sports, you can bet your ass that he's gonna be at any games he can

Now, that's not a lot, but still

Adler absolutely cheers the loudest anytime that his kid does anything

He'll also argue with the refs or umpires about dumb calls

Has been kicked out multiple times

Russell also buys his kid anything that they want

Christmas with him is like out of a damn movie

Presents are practically stacked to the roof and each one is more extravagant than the last

Is definitely the type of parent to dump a bunch of money on his kid for whatever they want

It's his way of making up for barely being around

Has missed his visitation days a lot

Every time he does, Adler sends money and presents as an apology

One time, his kid was staying over at his house because they got into an argument with their mom

He came home late and was met with the sight of his only child smoking cigarettes in the living room

"You know what those do to your lungs?"

The kid just stared for a second before nodding in shock

"Good. Don't be surprised when you get lung cancer. Lord knows I'm already getting close to that. Give me one."

The kid hands over the whole pack, and Adler takes one, lights it, and hands it back. "Don't tell your mother."

On the times that he actually has off and has the kid, he tries to make a whole day out of spending time together

Adler takes them to an amusement park or something, and its just plain awkward the whole time

But, by the end of the day, they're just a little closer

Mainly because they had a heart to heart on the car ride home

They even hugged!

Yay!

And then nothing changed

Boo >:(

Jason Hudson

Girl dad 100%

He's the dad that everyone needs

So supportive, no matter what

Jason does, in fact, have two girls. And, if I remember right, he loves them more than anything

This man absolutely has been caught playing princesses and knights with his daughters by his wife

His favorite thing is to sit at the tiny tables and have a tea party

Loves his kids so much

If he had a son, Hudson would teach him how to throw a football

Definitely would push him to join a sport

If he does, Hudson goes to every game

Just like Adler, he cheers the loudest

If his girls get boyfriends, you can bet your ass that he's going to let them know that he has multiple guns and absolutely knows how to use it

#WillThreatenToKillThem

Jason has to be told by his wife to leave them alone

He only does because he loves his wife so so much and he'd kill for her

Lots of physical affection

Hugs and all that good stuff

His kids definitely won't be touch starved

Is absolutely who they go to first whenever something happens and they need help/support

If he ever catches his kid doing something that they shouldn't, like smoking, he has to try really hard not to yell at them. He pretty much has to walk away to cool off before he can approach the conversation in a way that he wants to

Hudson and his kid are going to have a long talk that ends in a hug and a promise not to do it again

Overall his kids are well behaved and he's a good dad

Alex Mason

My poor boy

I love him so much, anger issues and all

Any time that he screams and breaks things in front of his kid, he calls Woods to come and pick them up so he can take care of things

He always feels horrible after he yells. Alex never wanted to hurt anyone. Quite the opposite, actually. He just doesn't know how to control his anger

Throughout the kids developmental years, he tries his best not to yell or get angry, but a lot of the time he can't stop himself in time

In comes one Frank Woods, who ends up coming over and taking the kid out for ice cream or to the park or just for a drive

He ends up being that cool uncle that the kid goes to when something happens

When he gets discharged (Honorably) from the military, Mason ends up going to therapy

And anger management classes

Only reason he does is because his kid ends up yelling back when he gets angry

And he realizes that he fucked up :(

So that helps him mellow out for his kids later years

Definitely apologizes to his kid for how they were raised

Alex won't over explain or get all mushy, but it'll come up as a simple "I'm sorry for how you were raised," and leave it at that

Will express his feelings through gifts or spending quality time with his kid

If he gets grandkids, Alex will take that as the time to make up for his kids shitty childhood

Best granddad for real

When he's older, he won't mind as much when it comes to telling his kid that he's proud of them

Lots of praise

Frank Woods

HE'S SO BABY GIRL I CAN'T

LOOK AT THIS GIF

Anyway

Definitely the type of dad to pretend that his kid is in trouble and then it turns out to be a prank

He would absolutely do it just like he did in the scene of the gif

Frank wouldn't yell at his kid, more just yell in general

He'll scream over football games, tv shows, dropping something, anything

He does not care

His kid would be used to loud noises by double digits

Woods would absolutely not know that his kid was sneaking out until Alex caught them

He doesn't particularly care, but he's a little disappointed that they didn't ask him if they could go

Instead of yelling, he would sit them down and have a serious discussion

Lots of "You could have just asked," and, "How many times have you done it?"

Basically he'd get his kid to quit because he knows it's a bad habit

I can't remember if he's a smoker or not, but if he is he would go through the process of quitting with said kid

Helen Park

She's kind of a shitty mom, ngl

Park can be good at it when she wants to, but she's got her own shit that he's going through

She can't handle a kid

In the early years, she's a little neglectful and absent

Then she does a full 180 and goes full over-protective mom mode

Trackers, constant phone calls, reassuring messages

The whole nine yards

She'll try her best to stop if her kid says something, but her anxiety is way too high to stop fully

Definitely the kind of mom to apologize through gifts

One fond memory that her kid would have of their younger years is her sneaking into their room and climbing into bed with them

She just sat there and held them, silently telling them how much she loved them

Helen thought their kid was asleep, not awake and hearing everything she was saying

Park definitely let her kid sneak into her bed when they had nightmares or got sick

She secretly loves it and is sad when they stop doing it

Okay that's all I got-

I didn't mean for this to take so long to make

[riversofmars]

In honour of John Dorney's birthday today, Doom Coalition is on sale at Big Finish 😄😄😄

[darkimpala1897]

Buck and Bucky wedding would be pure chaos I'm just saying.

Bucky would walk down the aisle to 20th Century Fox Fanfare, because he's Bucky.

Hambone, and Douglass would do drunk karaoke.

Brady would be the one crying the entire time and I mean the entire time.

Blakely would be trying to sleep with the groomsmen.

DeMarco snuck Meatball in, who ate everything.

Rosie would have the best speech ever.

Crosby would have a drunk speech.

Bubbles would embarrassingly dance around, making everyone question who invited him.

Curt would be spilling all the embarrassing stories, he definitely knocked down either the wedding cake or ice sculpture or both well screaming "I'm Irish" at the top of his lungs.

Dickie is trying to clean up Curts mess.

Quinn lost BabyFace, and Bailey within five seconds somehow.

Winks and Ken are just filming the entire thing.

Kidd and Harding are just old man dancing together.

Helen is wondering why she came.

Sandra and Marge are also questioning why the fuck they came.

Murphy and Fredkin are literally the most chill ones, but Murphy eventually gets so drunk that he starts taking off his clothes.

Smokey is making sure nobody gives themselves alcohol poisoning, he ends up herding everyone home like drunk cattle.

Stormy is just embarrassed to know these people.

Daniels, Jefferson, and Macon were dragged to this shingdig by DeMarco who said "It'd be fun." And fun was one way to describe it.

[detective-jane-rizzoli]

#me too 🍷 🍺🍸

[efingart]

Just What I Needed - Chapter 25

ao3 | tumblr: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty | Twenty-One | Twenty-Two| Twenty-Three |Twenty-Four|

Word Count: 5043

Frank Woods x CoD Bell

Frank and Mila go on something that looks a lot like a date, but it isn't a date.

The plastic groaned in protest as Mila pressed the speaker closer to her ear. The record store fell away as the synth beat took hold of her.  It was unlike any music she had ever heard. She could become lost in it. She was used to holding in her feelings, not giving away much that was on her mind. But the sound inexplicably made her want to move.

But how would anyone dance to this?

Mila’s eyes flicked up to the woman behind the counter. She was the one who had set up the tape player for her to listen. The counter was much higher than the floor, likely so she could quickly spot if anyone was pocketing one of the tiny cassette tapes. But for the most part, the woman looked bored. She flipped through some kind of booklet. Like a magazine, but there was a homemade quality to it—splotched black ink across its neon paper cover. The title hand written in black permanent marker. The woman tossed her head to get her pink-streaked bangs out of her eyes before ducking her head back down to read. The pink-streaked bangs fell back into her face.

Mila felt tension on one side of the headphones, drawing her gaze away from the woman. Frank tugged on one of the speakers, pulling it away and leaning into her, turning the speaker towards his own ear to listen.

“You like this?” He asked. His voice was loud as he tried to talk over the music thrumming in his ear. He listened for another moment before turning the speaker back around.

She pulled the headphones off and let them dangle from her neck.

“Yeah. You said I should pick something happier. Can’t get happier than that.”

Frank’s eyes traveled over her face, then he shrugged and turned to the woman behind the counter.

“This one, too,” He said. She didn’t respond, not even a nod. Still, she popped the tape out of the player, putting it back in its jewel case and adding it to the stack of music Mila had already accumulated.

“Anything else?” Frank asked Mila.

She shook her head and neatly placed the headphones on top of the tape player, then pushed the player towards the woman.

He dug into his back pocket for his wallet. Then, he shifted his attention to something behind the woman.

“One of those, too,” He said, pointing to a box on the wall behind her. In her bored way, she turned to the wall, picked up the box, and held it up to verify that it was what he wanted. He gave her a nod, and she began to ring up the items.

“Come with batteries?” He asked her as he studied the box. She shook her head. He sighed. “Course not.”

Mila watched this exchange with some curiosity. She couldn’t quite read the box, and the product name wasn’t giving anything away—something to do with walking. Frank counted out the bills and change, and the woman bagged their purchases.

“All right, come on,” He said, throwing an arm over her shoulder as he guided her out of the store. “Gotta make another stop.”

He pointed to a camera store across the street. In the wide front window, there was a large cardboard display. As they approached, Mila realized it resembled a camera. But not like one she had ever seen. There was a lens and a viewfinder, but the camera's base was long and flat. The design of it was so clunky she couldn’t understand why anyone would want to carry it around. Someone had cut a large slit across the base, and a flat sheet of cardboard with a photograph on it repeatedly slid in and out of the base.

Maybe it was advertising a new kind of development process?

But as she scanned the display she saw that the large camera was surrounded by boxes of the real thing.

She turned to ask Frank about them when she heard a click and a whirring sound. A man was standing in the shop doorway, one of the strange cameras in his hand.

“Just got the brand new model in today. Come in and take a look.”

Having a business owner so invested in speaking to them was odd. But the camera shop likely got its fair share of tourists, which may have motivated him to be friendlier. He handed her the paper that had come out of the camera.

She stared at it and turned it over—blank white on one side and black on the other. However, something was happening on the front of the paper. A splotch of brownish yellow was slowly developing.

“You’ve never seen an instant film camera before?”

She shook her head and tried to hand the paper back to the man, but he waved her off. “It’s yours, keep it.”

Frank interrupted their exchange and asked the man, “You got any batteries?”

The man led him into the small store. Mila stayed outside, watching the display continue its methodical movements.

After a moment, Frank stepped out again and dropped a pack of batteries into the paper bag.

“How’d it turn out?” He asked her, nodding towards the paper in her hand.

She looked down, and to her surprise, she was now holding a photo of her and Frank looking at the display.

“What-”

“Instant film, don’t ask me how it works. Em’s got one of those. She’s constantly taking pictures,” He said, shaking his head. “I’ve gotta have about a hundred of me holding David for the first time. I’ll show you.”

“Instant film,” She repeated and looked longingly at the display. She’d love to have a camera like that. She had enjoyed taking and developing pictures for the various missions the CIA had sent her on. And with her memory, it would be nice to have some kind of physical evidence of her life besides that old photo Frank had found. Feeling Frank’s eyes on her, she blinked and turned away from the display. The nice thing about Frank is that he never asked too many questions. He seemed to know that if she wanted to talk, she’d talk. He plucked the picture from her hands and tucked it into his front shirt pocket, giving the pocket a little pat.

“For safekeeping,” He said. Then he threw his arm back in a wave, gesturing her to keep it moving. “Come on, I’m hungry.”

“Burger Town?” She joked.

“You know I’ll never say no to that. One of these days, we gotta take you somewhere nice, I guess.”

“Not today,” She said.

He chuckled, “Not today.”

They sat at one of the outdoor tables in the sun. She couldn’t remember the last time she spent so much time in the sun. The bag of food was between them, and she watched him reach into it to pull out a burger. His knuckles were turning red, and a smattering of freckles had appeared on his hands. She hadn’t realized he freckled in the sun, but it made sense with his complexion. It gave her a warm feeling just to know something more about him. Something that wasn’t related to his job or military life.

Frank Woods freckles in the sun.

She cataloged the information away in her mind.

Mila reached into the bag for her burger and placed it on the table before her. Then she carefully peeled the wrapper away, smoothing it out on the table and creating a placemat for herself. She thought she heard Frank let out a soft chuckle, but when she glanced up, his soft gaze was focused behind her as he chewed his burger. Mila picked up her burger and was about to eat when a thought occurred to her.

“What’s that thing you bought? That needed batteries?” She asked, nodding towards the paper bag set next to him on the bench.

He held up a finger and reached for his drink as he chewed. Grasping the drink by the lid, two fingers on either side of the straw, he took a long sip.  Then, he set his burger and the drink down and wiped his hands off in his jeans before he opened the bag.

“I figured if you’re gonna have your own music, maybe you don’t want to be tied to the stereo in the living room,” He said. Then, while looking at her pointedly, he added, “You can use the stereo in the living room anytime you want, though.”

When he said that, her eyes moved from the bag next to him to his face. Frank seemed to notice everything. Or maybe he had recognized one of his own habits in her. He knew she was trying to leave the smallest footprint in their apartment. A strategy she employed in the hopes that if he never felt like she was in the way, then her place there was safe. She shifted in her seat, somewhat uncomfortable with the feeling of being so seen by someone else. There was something else, too: comfort.

She ignored it and instead turned her focus back to Frank, who was moving his burger aside so he could place the box in front of him. He pulled out a pocket knife to break open the thick tape, holding the box shut. Then he opened the flap and grabbed hold of what was inside while tipping the box so that gravity would help him ease its contents out.

Inside was a smaller black box surrounded by styrofoam packaging and a small pair of black over-ear headphones. Frank flipped the styrofoam over onto his hand. He tossed the packaging back in the paper bag and dusted off the smaller black box. She could see it was made of heavy plastic. There were buttons on the top. Frank reached back into the paper bag, feeling around momentarily, before producing the pack of batteries. He popped off a panel in the back and put in four batteries. Then he took out one of the cassette tapes, popped its case open, and slipped it into a slot in the front of the box.

He plugged the headphones into the box and handed them to her.

“You can listen anywhere now.”

She put the headphones on. The sound wasn’t as good as in the record store or at the apartment, but it was nice to be able to listen anywhere. She noted he had put in the tape he recommended, Pat Benatar.

You’ll like this one, he had said at the store.

And he was right. She took a bite of her hamburger as she listened. She knew she could definitely enjoy listening while in her room at night. And maybe even between sessions.

“Like it?”

She nodded.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

He waved his hand, dismissing her comment.

“You might as well have some music wherever you want it.”

He stopped the tape.

“Thing drains batteries, though, I’ve got more for you, but just know that.”

She nodded again and removed the headphones. Frank gathered everything up and placed it in the bag.

“So what’s next?”

“I have an idea or two.”

Mila tilted her head curiously at him, but he didn’t elaborate.

Frank seemed to have his destination in mind, but occasionally, he would take them one way and have to backtrack. Then, he’d check the street name and head in the opposite direction. The place he was looking for must have been tucked away. Mila didn’t mind so much. It was good to be out and walking in the city. It had been some time since she had just walked around without purpose or hurry. She glanced around at the other people around them. This is what they did. She had yet to conjure up something more mundane from her adult or teenage years. Always running and fighting. Not being able to show her face in her home country meant long strolls in the park were risky. She had vague memories of spending time in what looked like East Berlin. But had the sense she was still traveling by night, working.

“There,” Frank said in a low voice.

He led her down a narrow side street. On the corner was a small building. Garage-style doors had been installed on either side and now, on this pretty day, they were flung up. She could clearly see the entire establishment from front to back.

She stopped.

“It looks like-”

“Yeah,” Frank said. Then he shrugged. “I kinda got the feeling you wanted to look around that place. And I know you like computers.”

He scratched the back of his head, suddenly seeming uncomfortable.

“Well, these are kind of like computers,” He added.

She nodded, and they walked into the arcade. Inside, the sounds, which were tinny and muted on the street, completely filled the space. The room itself was kept dim, lit by the sunlight outside and the glow of the screen on each machine. Every cabinet was painted with brightly colored characters. As she looked at the displays, she realized that these were what the players were supposed to imagine the tiny pixelated characters to be. Again, it was like nothing she had ever experienced before.

Being in the arcade brought back memories of the fake American town, and she wondered if small towns in America really did look like that. Many small towns in the movies she watched looked similar as well. The cinema, Burger Town, and arcade all together around a tiny town square. She knew it would be unlikely she’d ever get to see a place like that. Unlikely, she’d ever leave West Berlin, unless they were shipping her off to some prison to lock her away forever.

Mila pushed the thoughts from her mind and approached a free cabinet. She watched the looping demo of what must have been a car racing along a track that never seemed to end. Several cars whizzed by the player's car until one crashed into it. A computerized grinding sound filled her ears. The screen went black.

“You ever play one of these?” Mila asked Frank.

He shook his head.

“Heard it rots your brain or something,” He joked. “Come on, let’s go get some tokens.”

As they waited in line, he pointed to a game that involved a sloped wooden track with numbered holes at the top.

“Now that’s more my speed. Skee-ball.” When he was met with her blank stare, he clarified, “It’s like bowling. You do know bowling, right?”

She shook her head.

“I’ll show ya.”

Then he turned his attention to the man behind the counter. Frank handed over a few bills to exchange for tokens.

He was spending so much money on her today. She felt uncomfortable unable to contribute. Of course, no one would give her money, nothing that she could potentially use to escape.

Not that she had anywhere to go. Beyond the walled city was a dangerous place for her. Outside the city was Soviet-controlled Germany. Even if she attempted to leave through the subway tunnels as she and Adler once had, she was an enemy of the state. Sure, they had thought she was dead, but likely that had been proven wrong when her face showed up all over the KGB cameras as soon as someone had reviewed the footage. And hey, why is a dead woman working with Russell Adler anyway?

If caught, the KGB would make sure she was dead this time, but not after grilling her for all the information she had about the CIA. Or if Perseus got hold of her again. The blonde- Ivanova went to great lengths to ensure she could hold her and torture her freely. She was sure the entire organization wanted her head for what she did in Solovestky.

“Hey,” Frank nudged her. The collection of dull coins jingled as he moved them from one hand to the other. “So, what do you want to play?”

She walked around studying each machine. The arcade wasn’t busy, so she could get a good look at the games.

One in particular caught her eye. It was one she recognized from the fake America town.

She approached the cabinet and watched the preview play before her of a small character dressed in green jumping over black blocks on the ground. She realized that the blocks were meant to be open spaces through which the player could fall. After watching the demo play, Frank handed her a coin, and she started up the game. He tucked his hand in his jeans pocket and deposited the remaining tokens.

“Got plenty of ‘em, so you can try all of the machines if you want,” He said, patting his pocket, causing the coins to jingle again.

She smiled at him and then directed her focus back to the machine. She bent down to deposit the token, and the music on the cabinet changed.

Frank leaned an arm over the cabinet and watched her play. It took her a moment to learn the controls. Her character died a few times, but it was easy to identify the gameplay patterns after that.

“Hey, you’re not bad at this,” Frank said.

She shrugged.

Then she made a silly mistake, and the timer ran out on the game. She managed to convince Frank to play a round himself. They spent much of the afternoon at the arcade. Occasionally, they’d find a game they could play together.  Boxing was entertaining because Frank would tell her about his brief experience as an amateur boxer as a teenager. Though with some of the stories, he’d end up distracting himself enough in the retelling that she could get several punches in at once.

After losing another round of boxing, Frank yawned and checked his watch.

“Getting late, we should head out. I wanted to get some things at the grocery store anyway,” Frank said. Then added, “Someone keeps complaining we don’t have any good food.”

“We don’t!” She said, following him out the door. He stopped short at a cabinet where a group of kids were gathered and rooted through his pockets for the remaining tokens. Then he dumped them into the hands of a girl standing on the outskirts of the group.

It was dark when they returned to the apartment, each holding one grocery bag.

She placed her bag on the counter and unpacked it, putting pantry items away as Frank stocked the fridge.

“Should I make us something?” She asked.

“Nah, I got an idea for us,” He said but didn’t elaborate. Mila wasn’t sure what to make of the smile that slowly crept across his face either.

“You, cooking?” She teased him.

“Hey, I can cook some things,” He said, feigning offense.

Mila chuckled. She wasn’t about to insult him if he was willing to make dinner for them. And she was a bit curious about what Frank would cook up. She leaned against the counter to watch him work.

“Let me know if you need me to do anything.”

“I got it. You gotta be tired after today anyway.”

He was right; she was exhausted, and she yawned as if on cue. She stretched her arms over her head and let out another long yawn. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the message indicator on the answering machine was lit.

“Oh hey, Frank, you’ve got a message,” She said.

“Hit play for me, will ya?”

She depressed the button, and the tape on the machine whirred to life.

“Woods-”

Mila recognized the voice immediately.

“Is that Sims?”

“Shh-” Frank hushed her.

“- in town, and I’ve got some ideas for you. Well, for Bell. Come by tomorrow.”

The tape stopped, and the machine beeped. Frank continued his work without explanation. He had pulled out a fat tomato and was in the process of cutting it into slices. Mila watched him, waiting to see if he would elaborate.

When he didn’t, she asked him, “What was that about?”

Frank’s back straightened, and he cleared his throat before answering.

“Sims-” He paused, “He’s gonna help us.”

She bit the inside of her lip to keep herself from interrupting. She could tell Frank had more to say, but why was he taking so long to say it? He placed the knife on the cutting board but kept his other hand around the tomato as he turned his head to look at her.

“I’m not letting them drug you anymore, Mila,” He said firmly.

She hadn’t been expecting that.  In fact, she wasn’t sure she understood him clearly.

“What? What do you mean?”

“I told them. All of them. They need to figure something else out.”

Frank turned back to the tomato and finished slicing. He moved the slices to a plate.

“All of them,” She repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Park, Hudson, and Adler. All of them,” He said as he opened the fridge and pulled out a pack of bacon wrapped in butcher paper. He placed it on the counter. Frank then sprinkled some water on the pan, and it sizzled.

“Nice and hot,” He said quietly.

It was surreal watching him work. The conversation and the actions were incongruent. Frank was just making her dinner and casually telling her her entire life was about to change. That he- Frank Woods- of all people had made a decision about her life without talking to her about it.

This couldn’t be happening. Frank couldn’t do this to her.

Mila rubbed her forehead.

“Is that why you-” She stopped. She didn’t want to think that Frank took her out today to soften the blow of what would happen tomorrow. Mila ripped her hand away from her forehead and slammed her fist on the countertop.

Frank had just been about to place a slice of bacon in the pan, but he stopped and stared at her.

“Frank, if they’re not drugging me-” Mila started. She shook her head. The kitchen was a blur. She couldn’t make eye contact with him. She didn’t want to face the reality of it.

“If I’m not useful to them-” She tried again.

No, no, don’t say it.

“We almost lost you-” Frank said, his voice surprisingly calm.

“Frank!” She interrupted, “This is my life. And you’re what, just making decisions for me?”

“What do you want me to do?” He said. He tossed the bacon back on the butcher paper. It made a wet slapping sound when it hit the paper.

“You were gone. You didn’t see you. Lost in your head. It’s the fucking drugs, Mila. You want me just to step aside and let them do that to you?”

“I told you that’s what I was good for,” She said.

“So you think you deserve this?”

She said nothing to him then. The answer was obvious to both of them. He stepped towards the sink and washed his hands. As he dried them, he turned back toward her.

“Sometimes I think you’d rather lose your mind,” Frank said sadly. He tossed the towel on the counter before reaching out for her, but she slapped his hand away.

“Mila-”

“Controlling my life. Just like Adler.”

“Hey!” He raised his voice then.

It wasn’t fair. She knew she wasn’t being fair. Frank wasn’t Adler. But the roaring in her head wouldn’t stop. She stepped away from him and swung around, heading to her room.

She didn’t want to see him. Didn’t want to hear his reasoning. He was probably right, but the prospect of it not working, of her being imprisoned forever. She’d rather be dead. Because it would be forever. Held in solitary confinement with no hope of ever leaving.

She changed into her t-shirt, leaving her day clothes on the floor.

On her bed was the bag from the music store. Frank must have put it in here for her. She placed her headphones over her ears and popped a tape in. Somber music did its best to drown out the sounds of Frank cooking in the kitchen.

And eventually, she fell asleep.

She had a dream of meeting a man in a bar. He was a stranger to her, but they sat and talked as if they were old friends. After exchanging pleasantries, she leaned closer to him.

“Please. Frank Woods. It must be him.”

“Why?”

“Because I believe he is a good man. I believe he will understand.”

Mila woke up hungry. She was no stranger to the feeling, but somehow, paradoxically, it was harder to ignore now that she was getting food regularly. Easier to let the feeling fade into the background and have sleep for dinner when there was never any dinner or breakfast to look forward to.

The bedside clock told her it was the middle of the night, and she wondered if Frank would still be awake. Her anger had died almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. She felt guilty for blowing up on him and knew she needed to apologize. And that he’d probably chew her out for it. Frank wasn’t manipulative. He wasn’t trying to control her. He’d likely be more angry that she’d even suggest that than anything else. But first, she needed to eat something.

Swinging her feet around, she carefully got up from the bed. She avoided a particularly creaky floorboard and made her way to the door. She placed her ear against it and listened, but with the exception of the usual sounds of the building, it was quiet.

Even still, she opened the door as quietly as she could. If Frank was in his room snoring away, he would never hear her, but she couldn’t be too careful. Mila made her way to the kitchen. She could assemble a sandwich quickly and bring it back to her room. Though she hated eating in her room. It made her feel like she was in a prison cell. She opened the fridge, and there on the top shelf was a plate with a sandwich wrapped in waxed paper.

Frank had made dinner for her after all. Of course, he had. She picked up the chilled plate and turned to bring it to her room. But that’s when Frank emerged from the bathroom. A fleck of toothpaste dotted his beard. They caught each other’s gaze before he walked past her and through the kitchen. He was just on the threshold of the living room when he stopped. He raised his arm and leaned against the doorframe.

“Should have talked to you about it, but I wanted you to have a couple of good days before we had to figure things out,” He said. His hand formed into a fist, which he tapped against the frame before turning around.

The guilt crept in again. He had just been thinking about her again. His insistence on her rehabilitation had changed his living situation, his job, and his life. How much time did he spend thinking about her?

Mila set the sandwich down on the counter and stepped toward him.

“I’m sorry, Frank,” She said. It felt weak. After everything.

To her surprise, he nodded. He leaned against the counter and folded his arms across his bare chest.

“Yeah, me too,” He said.

She waited, she didn’t have much to say, everything that came to mind just sounded like an excuse to her.

“I’m not like him,” Frank said.

“I know, Frank,” She said.

“I’m not trying to control your life. Not interested in that,” He said.

He took in a deep breath. She shifted her weight on her feet. It seemed like he had more to say.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” She said when he said nothing.

He gave her a sidelong glance, and then a characteristic smirk appeared at the corner of his mouth. He threw his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into him.

“I’ve had worse,” He said with a chuckle. Frank reached over with his other arm and grabbed her plate. For a brief moment, she found herself enveloped in his arms. Face pressed against his chest. The scent of his cologne and the toothpaste filled the air around her. And he was warm, as always.

“Come on,” He said and guided her towards the couch. “No reason to eat alone. Unless you want to?”

She shook her head. They both took a seat on the couch.

“Thanks for the sandwich,” She said as she did. She sat down somewhat close to him, bending her legs and letting her feet dangle off the couch. She balanced the plate on her thigh and unwrapped the sandwich. Then she took a bite.

“Want some?” She offered to him. He shook his head. She covered her mouth with her hand and nodded, “It’s really good.”

“I thought so. Better warm, though.”

She wolfed down half the sandwich. In part because she was very hungry, but also to avoid conversation. However, when she finished, instead of picking up the second half, she said, “I’m sorry, Frank.”

“You said that already.”

He reached out and put his hand on the back of her neck, pulling her into him. He had to grab the sandwich plate before it slipped onto the couch, and he set it next to him on the armrest.

From behind her, he pulled down a blanket and draped it over her. She felt a strong desire to tell him everything that was going on in her head. Her worries, her fears, and even her hopes, however small, for her future. Mila looked up at Frank. Her eyes traveled over his face, the way the hairs of his beard curved to the contour of his jawline. The deep wrinkles that lead up to his eyes, his eyes, bright blue, so much hidden behind them.

Frank thought about her enough. She didn’t need to dump her feelings on him.

He must have sensed her watching him because he glanced down. He made a soft questioning noise to match the look on his face.

Mila rose up, allowing the blanket to fall from her shoulders, and pressed a hand to Frank’s chest before kissing him.

[leavemealoneplsandthx]

Hey guys!

Hopefully some of you made the switch to the black ops side since I made my last post!!

I just thought I would add a link to my own story on ao3! Some of the chapters are better than others but this is the first fanfic I’ve written since 2015 so just keep that in mind 😚

[icebluecyanide]

One thing I thought worked really nicely in the show was how Julia Rothman didn't once mention Helen in her first story about John.

We hear her talk about John's feelings for her and show Alex the letters, and then we get the small mention of Alex being six months old when John died, and just from that we get the sense that there's something she isn't telling Alex. Because there was another woman involved, it wasn't just her and John and there's just this question lingering of who Alex's mum is and what Julia must have felt about her.

And then later we find out she felt betrayed and used and nearly everything in her plan was about revenge exactly for this betrayal (and the Department taking down Scorpia). And there's already a hint of it not being the full/right story in the discrepancy in her first story to Alex.

[animefreak1145]

Church Bells(Adler x Bell!Reader x Woods)

Previous Intel

Seventh Intel | Outbreak

Description:

The world ended for Bell after Cuba.

The whole world followed soon after.

Zombies AU | Drabble Format

Warnings/Tags: Mature Rating, Graphic Violence, Dark Themes, Trauma, Body Horror, Gore, Major Character Death, Brainwashing, Post!Cuba, Pre!Solovetsky, No Solovetsky, Female Bell, Older Man/Younger Woman, Suicidal Thoughts, Cognitive Dissonance, Mental Illness

Words: 2.7k

A/N: I’m really bad at drabbles. I’m trying.

▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▛ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚ ▟ ▞ ▚ ▞ ▚

Your throat burned, a hand clawing to your neck to try to stop it.

“Sims! What’s wrong with the line to Washington?” A voice that was never your friend, or something almost more, called out from beyond the medical room(were they doing intramuscular shots? You mistaking being sore from missions but instead, it was for the lie.) Your stomach coiled low in your gut, cold sweat not faltering from creating more perspiration in your body. “You sure you dialed it right?”

“What kind of question is that, man? I can dial the number in my sleep!” He never liked you. He would stare at you like you were a stranger when your friendly eyes met his. Can a friend hurt your feelings if all they saw in you was an enemy? Your chest heaved as you sat in the gurney, you can feel Park’s hand to your back, rubbing. “Something must be going on. Hudson had to step out while we were doing this shit show. They called him when Bell was passed out.”

“Shit…” the voice, always low and gravelly and comforting and casual and—

Bile is climbing up your throat and you push Park away so doesn’t get it on her shoes. Acid in your throat and tears running down your cheeks at the forceful gags and vomit on the grey floor.

“Bell?” Park with her British accent, motherly holds your forehead up as you coughed and hacked and she shushes you in comfort before turning her attention back to the commotion outside. You can’t take this fake concern for your well being. “You don’t think Perseus sent out the signal, Adler? We would’ve been dead by now along with all of Europe.”

“No, no, it sounded like something else.” Sims replied, expression in deep critical thinking of whatever happened with Hudson—he never trusted you, why would he? You’re a Red—and his sudden disappearance. “It sounded like they were going to send a helo or aircraft for him.”

“But for what?” Russell intoned. (Too friendly. Not a first name basis. Was he playing you like a fiddle? No. A marionette.) “Hudson isn’t that much of an impatient bastard to just leave without seeing if we got an answer or not. No…this is something big.” Adler rubbed his chin before looking back up at Sims. “Did you happen to catch anything else?”

Your world turned on its axis, and no one here seems to care. Your head was bowed, hands on your knees as you were bent over. Your left eye pounding out your socket. Trying to catch your breath—catch Perseus. All for Perseus. Everyone here is a liar. Oh God. Just die why don’t you?

“You’re still one of us.”

You shook the hand he touched violently, not caring at Park’s bewildered glance at you, eyes burning and red. You wish you can keep retching, perhaps if you wretch enough your heart will climb up your throat, choking you as it temporarily blocks your airway( his hands were around the junction of your jaw, can easily press on your throat, in cruel resemblance to what happened in Lubyanka) with everyone seeing it stuck at the hollow of your throat before you finally cough it up and show you its scars, pumping on the floor weakly and bleeding as spittle went down your chin and then—and then—you’ll crush it yourself instead of the metaphorical way that Russell did.

Sims scoffed, throwing a hand to motion at you before stepping close to Adler, voice low. But you can still hear. You’re still here. This is all real?

“I couldn’t exactly get everything with Bell screaming like that. Jesus,” Sims cried, all animated and getting antsy as his arms moved towards the door of the safehouse. “he probably already left and we didn’t hear it. You didn’t have to go so hard, man!”

Your vision was swimming, but you lolled your head towards their direction, you slowly traveling up to Adler’s expression to see. And you felt like you already knew the answer as you spotted his lips in a flat line, unchanging. Stoic.

“We got the answer, didn’t we?” You closed your eyes tightly, seeing stars in the black. Hand to your left eye, as if the pressure would help having a needle jabbed into it. You heard steps come closer to you distantly. Step. Step. Step. A quiet voice. “Hey. Up and at ‘em, Bell. Let’s get you some Zofran before you keep staining the floor.”

Your eyes flew open.

“Woah!” Sims cried.

You skittered back, eyes wide and chest a drum as you fell onto the floor. Not caring if your own fluids got on you as you used your elbows and feet to stay away, head hitting the back wall with the threat of cracking your head open from the force.

Away from the hand that tried to reach out to you, the hand that just ghosted your shoulder, the hand the fed you when you couldn’t yourself back in ‘Nam due to an injury where both your arms were toast, the hand that touched your shoulders, or fingers ghosting your neck when a stray piece of hair got in front of your face, the hand that was to your cheek and pushed you onto the desk and would’ve kept going if not for the mission, the hand that gave you a needle to the eye and tortured you and disguised it as love.

You stared at the hand that was still raised, refusing to meet Adler’s eyes—you can’t, you can’t meet his eyes, that shockingly electric blue only to be met with ice if you looked—your hands clenching tightly on the ground, your jaw clenched as your expression shifted. You turned your gaze to Adler’s throat, steady and burning.

You swallowed as if you can taste it in your imagination.

“Mmm.” Adler’s hand fell and without you even looking, you can tell he’s darkly amused without even having to smirk.“We’ve known each other for years.” “What’s that look for? A bit dramatic.”

“Adler!” Park came to your defense, blocking your view from Adler and Adler to you. (Your mouth was closed, but you played the back of your teeth with your tongue. You rip my heart out, I’ll take your throat. Your chest ached, an oxymoron occurring, your drug addled mind creating a vision of you kissing his throat.) “With Bell’s mind abused as it is, we don’t need your sharp barbs to add to it. She’s suffered enough. She needs to get her energy back for Solovetsky.”

“On that, we can agree, Agent Park.” Adler cooly replied, taking out a cigarette and filling the room with the scent of it. “Just because we’re sitting ducks waiting on Washington, doesn’t mean we can’t set up everything else here on our end. Let’s—“

“—everyone stay in your homes. This is not a drill—“

Everyone started at the German woman’s voice, including you as your eyes went past Adler, past the door, to the radio by the TV you used to play with. (Huh, that’s funny. Russell really doesn’t want to hear Russian from the radio.) You saw the TV turn on, with a ring of a bell, showing soldiers and tanks and—you forcefully turned your head away before you threw up again.

“Turn up the volume, Sims.”

The trio came closer to the radio, Adler’s cigarette being abused as smoke curled above him while you slowly got up and stayed in the doorway of the medical room, eyes downcast.

“There are reports of a virus that are making people violent and aggressive. Some say cannibalistic but do not worry, for government agencies are already on top of it—“

“What? Chemical warfare…?!” Sims tsked, taking his hat off to rub his head and pace away. “I thought we were done with all that in Vietnam!”

“It would be more precisely biological warfare. Since they mentioned a virus,” Park expertly corrected, her mind going a mile a minute despite the injuries she sustained in Cuba. “This must be what Hudson got called to.”

“Bioterrorism.” Adler stated matter of factly, cigarette in his hand before he took another long and meaningful drag. Hiding his stress despite his calm mien. “A bit overkill if this is from Perseus. Right, Bell?”

You weren’t even paying attention to the call of your name, eyes wide as a realization was slowly coming over you.

Did they say…cannibalistic? Your mind flashed to that tunnel to the ground, ignoring Russell’s guidance during that trip to the hell of your mind, where you saw…you saw dead soldiers rise. Is this real?

“—it is not clear yet where this virus came from. But it is worldwide.” The group tensed. “Not only in our area of Berlin, but even in East Berlin. Poland. Italy. Spain. Ukraine. Vietnam. The United Kingdom and the United States. All with the same. People violent and aggressive whoever is infected. Don’t leave your homes or if you found a safe area, stay in it until help comes. Care packages are already being organized for everyone until this lockdown is done—“

Park turned on the TV, you hearing the static before it flashed on, the emergency broadcast signal on and piercing your ears with the alarm. But you can look at the TV now that it is on(not on from your imagination, your mind, “damaged goods.”)

“Find another channel,” Adler commanded, voice growing tense along with his shoulders, but Park was already on it.

Flipping through channels with the same broadcast emergency signal, some with text in the bottom saying the same thing the woman in the radio was, before finally there was one with a camera that was knocked over in the street. All the view they could get was a puddle of blood, of screams and cries and of guttural groans and moans and—is this real? Are you awake? Are you still in the gurney?

“Oh sweet baby Jesus, Mary and ever fuckin’ Joseph!” Sims cursed, eyes blown and wide and you think this is it. Sims therapy sessions and the work they’ve done have gone out the window because the soldier seems to be cracking at the seams, and him holding his head is what’s keeping him together. “Is this shit real?” Before he finished asking, he stepped up to the TV, Park moving to give him way as he changed through channels himself. Showing the same. Except one showed a person on the floor, dead and lifeless but with what appeared to be three people crouched over them and eating their guts, blood around their mouth and disgusting slurps could be heard.

Something was stirring in Adler’s mind, you could tell even from the distance, the way he pauses with the cigarette to his mouth. The way he tilts his head lazily just so in your direction.

Please. Don’t.

“Sims.” Adler called and the call brought Sins out of his fearful stupor, blinking it away and trying to be the soldier he was back in MACV-SOG. “Remind me. What was Scenario 17?”

“What—Russ, you gotta be fucking joking.” Sims made a motion to the TV, pointing animatedly at it as he went on. “You can’t be serious right now. We have more important things going on than the hoops and jumps we did for Bell!”

“Right. But something is itching at me about all that,” Russell toned, casual and that’s where your heart was starting to thunder because it was the forceful casual. Your back met the wall outside the medical room, and you wished to be swallowed in it because no, no, no. “Scenario 17 was one of the scenarios where Bell entered a tunnel which eventually would’ve been one of the paths to enter that red door she created in her mind for Perseus. But something…unknown occurred during it.”

“You mean how she wasn’t following your instructions like the good little American you created her to be?” Park sarcastically quipped, arms crossed. “Shocking indeed. How irritating for the one forced to heel decides to bite back.”

“Funny.” Adler replied, poker faced. “No. I’m talking about what Bell kept saying over and over when it was happening, what she was seeing, until she said…”(“The dead is rising, they’re rising, and chasing me in the tunnels and I can’t see and I can’t—my pistol can’t get them all and the dead killed me! The dead killed me! The dead killed me!” ) Park’s and Sims eyes swam in recollection gazes towards you but that’s not the ones you’re concerned about. Adler turned his shaded gaze towards you and pinned you to the wall. Russell didn’t need to choke you with his hands, his presence felt from a few feet was starting to choke you. “Bell. Throw me a bone here. You know anything about this? I couldn’t help but notice the radio didn’t mention Russia as one of the countries attacked.”

“How would I?” Adler’s lips only pressed together in disbelief, the ghost of disappointment being seen by your eyes and the look made your chest ache but—why are you aching and hurting for that man? (Rip his disappointment out with your hands.) “Please. Believe me, Adler! I don’t—I don’t know why I saw that—I didn’t see any of this mentioned behind the Red Door with Perseus! It—it must’ve been just a nightmare from everything with Vietnam! Please!”

Please don’t do that again, your crying eyes begged, trying to meet his eyes but is it for naught for America’s Monster who smells blood in the water? And what blood you have.

That irresistible Red.

“I wanna believe you, Bell,” Adler began, friendly and walking up to you. (Can someone kill me? Let me out from this nightmare!) “You’re still one of us after all. So I see no reason why you would lie or hold out anymore on us either. But…” Adler stood in front of you, a mere foot away but to you it was as if he was over you in the gurney again, hand to your throat, to your jaw, to squeezing your cheeks together cruelly. “That sounds awful lot like a coincidence. You know my views on perfect coincidences, Bell.”

You’re stuck.

He’s gonna stick you again and Park and Sims won’t stop him. He got them on his side perfectly. Had the perfect set up. (Beethoven with lightning across his face and the keys he pressed created perfected thunder.) Park may be smart, but she can easily become his piece on the board if handled right. (A mere music note in this elaborate play. What a character you are.) And what are you, really? A disposable red pawn that even isn’t supposed to be here.

You’re stuck about getting stuck with another needle and damn it all, you would do the same thing.

“Bell?” Your breath hitched, seeing he was closer and your chests were almost touching, ghosting and his head was over yours and—what you would’ve done to have this before—“Come on. What’s it gonna be?” His breath ghosted your face, nicotine heavy and he must’ve thrown the cigarette down at one point because it’s gone but all you taste and smell is his scent and you looked up, hopelessly lost, despair marring you, that itch of violence deafened when he’s so close—you can perfectly see the shape of his eyes and the color from here and that itch is back, snatch the shades and reach your hands to his eyes and scoop them out— Adler rose a brow above his shades, humored intrigue (there’s something else stirring in those eyes that can be deceivingly soft) as his voice lowered so the others wouldn’t hear. Like a secret. “There’s that look again. Even now, at this very moment, Bell? You should go get checked out.”

You didn’t reply. You couldn’t. (What does he see?) Because there was a shot that rang out outside. Multiple shots. And than crash against the side garage door of the safehouse. All of you jumping, pulse hammering in your necks as you all moved a step. What could it be? Is it one of those dead?

“Y’all better be fucking alive in there and open this fuckin’ door right now!”

You gasp, stilling.

Woods.

▞ ▚

 

▛

 

▞ ▚

A/N: A little peek into Bell’s mind post MK Ultra, LSD, Adrenaline(jeez, how many drugs they laced them with?) sticks and reveal. Mix that with the reveal of zombies and even possibly being the cause for COD zombies storyline—it’s a bad time for Bell. A lot of conflicting voices and emotions in her heart and head.

Adler here, if one can’t tell from past chapters, is really toxic in this story. Epitome of Dark!Adler mixed with “softness”.

I’m not gonna shy away from Park’s and Sim’s roles as well with Bell. We can put all the blame on Adler as a fandom as much as we want, but I blame everyone else as well for allowing him to be so openly harsh on Bell. Hope you enjoyed!

Tag List: @tr1ppylady @parkeepingparker @weirdoartist21 @gojocat247 @mayaibnlaahad @dallmaistir @salvija @kylezkie4adler @asaltryefl @stupid-stinky @aurora-windu @zachfoxx121 @pyxis-stellae

You have to tell me if you want me to tag you for each update or else I won't know. Or if you wish to be removed.

[alexa-mwll]

Anastasia Pérez Ivanov.

PERSONAL INFORMATION:

Name: Anastasia, Pérez Ivanov

Alias(es): La Baronesa (Baroness)

Height: 1.58

Eye color: Blue with gray

Hair color: Chestnut blonde

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Native language(s): Spanish

Other spoken language(s): Portugués, Ruso, Inglis.

Nationality: Mexican

Date of birth: 1961, March 8

Birthplace: Rosarito BC, México.

Current residence: Rosarito BC, México.

PERSONALITY AND TRAITS:

Potentially dangerous if threatened.

Multiple personality disorder, she calls herself the Baroness. (When she doesn't like something, The Baroness takes Anastasia's place).It is being treated with medications, danger level 40%.

Knows how to act under control and stress perfectly.

PROFESSION AND SKILLS:

Professional Background and main skill: Expert in: Military strategy, armory, infantry, logistics in weapons of war, guerrilla warfare, special operations, Clandestine operations, Sniper shooting and Parachute Rifle Corps.

Current Profession /Occupation: Special Forces High Command; Airmobile Group of Special Forces, (GAFE).

FUN FACTS;

She mostly likes to spend time surrounded by happy people (Friends), she likes drawing and dogs, and she was the first woman in all of Mexico to take the special forces course at the age of 15 thanks to the influence of her half-Russian family.

AFFILIATIONS:

Special Clandestine Officer Russell Adler.

Aleksandra Clarke R. (Rank: Psy-Ops Specialist). @alypink

Yume Sieheart (Specialist doctor) @cyberghostdraws

Vasili (Bell) Sokolov @welldonekhushi

Special Agent Jason Hudson (Indirectly)

Special Operative (Master Sergeant) Frank Woods (Indirectly)

Special Operative (Captain) Alex Mason (Indirectly)

Lawrence Sims (Indirectly)

Eleazar "Lazar" Azoulay (Indirectly)

Helen Park (MI6)

BACKGROUND STORY:

Anastasia grew up in a lonely and cold home, she always wondered where her parents were, the only affection she had as a child were the words of the maids and butlers in that house, until she met him, Alexander Ivanov, a man who called himself her uncle, he was in charge of finishing raising our girl who was only 10 years old, he never told her because he was close to her family, Anastasia grew up within a Military indoctrination, her uncle said that It was necessary and that she would have an important role in the course of the Cold War and the so-called Operation Desert Storm (Gulf War, Persian).

5 years later, at the age of 15, Alexander, her uncle, sent her to the Mexican Special Forces Corps, and Alexander disappeared. Leaving Anastasia alone once again. (During her time in the special forces Anastasia suffered a serious accident which left her distraught, causing her to become what she fears so much every time she was in dangerous moments: The Baroness.)

It was there that 5 years later she received a visit at her house from a man who called himself Russell Adler, Special Agent of the CIA, managing to hire her to do outside work within the Cold War, in a small faction of the Nicaraguan Contras. , which had information from Perseus. Anastasia became Adler's secret informant, thus managing to uncover spies, until the day of Adler's disappearance.

Anastasia was left in suspense and began to look for Adler, until she ran into Aleksandra, where a friendship began, the rest... is merely classified.