#russell adler fanfiction

[yanderestarangel]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ♡ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ SMUT CAKE'S EVENT — EDITION: ANGEL’S BIRTHDAY || BY: @yanderestarangel

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ★ I have a birthday and you are the one who gets the present 〜⁠(⁠꒪⁠꒳⁠꒪⁠)⁠〜

– From august 18th there will be posts celebrating my birthday; They will all be posted on the same day!!

!!WARNING!! this event contains content that is sensitive to some people, check the TW's before reading.

PS: I was supposed to post this earlier; But I'm sick and have a bad cold... So I'm sorry ;)

— strawberry cake || ghost, könig, captain price || romantic edition ᯓ★ headcanons

♡ ┆TW: body worship, romantic sex, use of lingerie, ftm reader, v!sex, anal sex, blowjob, praise, daddykink, age gap, fluff.

— vanilla cake || albert wesker || sensitive s/o ᯓ★ headcanons

♡ ┆TW: mild sadism, ftm reader, fingering, exhibitionism, overstimulation, sex toys, degradation, aggressive sex...+

— cinnamon cake || new!noob saibot || “together in khaos” ᯓ★ smut

♡ ┆TW : ftm reader, fingering, v!sex, penetration, afab anatomy, use of his saibot to stimulate the reader, creampie +...

— pudding cake || adler russell || “return” ᯓ★ headcanons

♡ ┆TW: soft sex, mlm, ftm reader, v!sex, praise kink, foreplay +..

[cass-the-mess]

Was it Real?

Vikhor "Stitch" Kuzmin x Bell!Reader SMUT 18+ MDNI

Photo cred: @pricescigar

A/N: This has been brewing in my drafts since MARCH lol, and I suddenly felt the urge to finish it today so I hope you guys enjoy it!

Synopsis: Bell manages to break out of Adler's mind control early on in the game. She infiltrates the KGB to hopefully reconnect with the current leader of Perseus himself Stitch, angst ensues, old feelings emerge, betrayal happens, they deal with it in the most reasonable way: Shmex :)

CW: Dark themes, dubious content, SMUT, office sex, ex-lovers to enemies to lovers? Stitch is a bad guy ish, possessive sex, degrading, PWP, canon typical violence (this is COD) but not the main theme of this, they're in love but it's complicated because she's a double agent, not really a happy ending but also not a sad ending.

P.S. this one is dedicated to @stararch4ngelqueen because she's great and she makes me wanna keep writing so :)

P.P.S. Dialogue in Italics are flashbacks, dialogues in bold are russian.

You see him right away when you turn the corner of the hallway, his imposing form walking out of the elevator surrounded by some of his most trusted men. The silvery scar tissue cutting through the left side of his face and into his eye adding onto the threatening aura around him.

You remember him, you remember the relationship you had with him before you got taken away and had all of your memories jumbled and carefully rearranged to fit into the narrative the Americans wanted you to be a part of.

Vikhor Kuzmin aka “Stitch”, current leader of Perseus, your mentor, the man who had taught you everything you knew. The man who had made you into the woman you were. That woman was long gone, that thought angered you. You had no loyalties to the American cause, nor to the men who you were currently working for.

Your loyalty to Russell Adler, the leader of this operation, was especially treacherous. You knew what he did to you, the lengths he had taken to turn you against the very people who had built you from the ground up, whatever charade you were currently playing by “helping” him sneak into the KGB to recover intel, was about to end. Sooner rather than later.

You watch intently through the shaded glass of the door you’re hiding behind as Stitch walks through the empty corridor, the armed men at his side posting themselves at strategic points in the hallway as he continues to make his way through the space, not sparing them a second glance, his patterned eyes ice cold and constantly searching and analyzing. The hood covering his head as well as the mask obscuring the bottom half of his face keeping his true emotions from shining through.

Your heart squeezes painfully at the sight of him, you didn’t know where you stood with him anymore, you knew just how important Perseus’ cause was to him, and how loyal to it he was. You doubted he’d ever forgive you, no matter the circumstances surrounding your disappearance, people didn’t just leave Perseus, and if they did, they were found and dealt with. You knew because that was your job, the executioner. The shadow of death, you were the last thing traitors saw before the light left their eyes.

At one point in time, you were his most trusted advisor, his right hand, his friend. You’d spent countless hours with him, the both of you planning, scheming, organizing, a myriad of different operations to spread your influence through the western countries. Most of which had greatly succeeded, you were always five steps ahead of the Americans.

You don’t know when exactly it changed, when your relationship with the stoic, brutal man, changed. When you became something more, when he started looking at you with a glint in his eyes, when his face relaxed a little when it was just the two of you in the same room, or when he started removing his mask around you. Exposing the gnarled, scarred skin of his face to you, letting you see just how truly broken he was.

But you didn’t think he was broken, you saw a man that had overcome challenge after challenge, continuously coming out on top and never giving up. Your respect for him grew, as did your heart. Butterflies swarming your abdomen whenever he looked your way, not needing to say a single word to you, his eyes always speaking so loud in the silence of the room.

Then he started smiling at you, not a full-blown smile, you didn’t think the man was even capable of such a feat, but a small, subtle quirk of his lips. So small you thought you’d imagined it at first. A fleeting curve of his full lips towards you, gone as fast as it had appeared. The memory makes you blush slightly in the dark space of the office you’re hiding in, chewing at your lips anxiously as you wait for him to dispatch the men around him, giving you an opening to talk to him. Hoping your connection plays in your favour, hoping the man won’t shoot you where you stand, knowing that he would, knowing that he should.

Afterall, you’d not only betrayed your cause, but you’d also betrayed him. That realization had weighed heavy on your shoulders ever since you woke up from whatever trance Adler had you in, all of your memories coming back to you in painful bursts, flashes of images blinding you as they assaulted your brain. The pain you had felt as each memory hit you, still sizzling inside you, causing a shiver to trail up your spine.

You take a steadying breath as you watch him through the tinted window, his white, scarred eye, glinting under the artificial light emanating from the fixtures above him. You’d asked him once if he could still see out of that eye, out of curiosity, but also because he seemed to see everything, all the time. Nothing ever escaped him, you wondered how he was able to be so alert with half his vision gone.

“I see.” Had been his curt answer, not giving you anymore detail than that, leaving you to speculate in silence about it, you found it unlikely that his vision had remained intact after taking a knife to the eye, though you supposed miracle stories could happen and he might’ve just been very lucky.

What had surprised you the most though, was weeks later, when you and him had been working together late one night, both absorbed in your respective tasks, you weren’t really paying attention to him, too preoccupied with finishing your own paperwork. He was though, you’d come to learn that he always was, his eyes always straying back to you, no matter how many times he tried to scold himself. You remember it like it was just yesterday, the scene playing out in your mind like a movie. That had been the start of something that meant so much more.

“it’s colour. I can’t see colour.” He’d said suddenly, his voice gruff from lack of use, the heavy Russian accent wrapping clumsily around the syllables of each word, startling you out of your state of deep concentration and forcing you to look up at him, your mouth agape at his sudden answer. The dim, amber lighting of the light above you, bouncing off the discoloured surface of his eye as he looks at you with an unwavering gaze.

“I- is it, weird…? Seeing colour with one eye and not with the other?” You’d replied to him after a beat, your voice coming out unsure as you took a hesitant step towards him, his two-tone eyes following your every movement like a hawk.

He’d never really given you a clear answer, his shoulders lifting in a shrug before dropping his gaze from yours and going back to his work, pensive look on his face as he continued to meticulously organize the papers before him. You didn’t blame him for not answering, hell, the fact that he even talked to you in complete sentences was something to marvel at. Considering he usually only interacted with his men, and even then, he would only really bark orders at them before dismissing them.

He tried though, you could tell he did, his English was choppy at best when he tried to talk to you, sometimes jumping back and forth to Russian when he couldn’t find his words. You’d started to learn Russian that way, and he started to learn English. It was beautiful really, now that you thought about it, he would teach you words in Russian, and you’d teach him the same words in English. He’d get frustrated when trying to pronounce some words and you’d giggle in your sleeve as he grew more and more flustered, the tips of his ears growing red with embarrassment until he huffed out a curse and gave up.

Your throat grows tight at the memory, eyes starting to sting with unshed tears as emotion threatens to overtake you, he was a complicated, brutal man, and yet he was so patient and gentle with you when you were together, his naturally gruff voice growing softer when he spoke to you. It hadn’t always been that way, of course, at first, he dismissed you as just another body in the sea of men he had to direct, not giving you his time of day, and barking orders your way the same way he would the rest of the men.

But then you’d started to make your mark, your work within the organization gaining more and more recognition from your peers, whispers growing and growing until they became a loud roaring in each room you would walk into, eyes tracking your every breath. Soldiers hanging onto your every word like they were prophecy.

He noticed, like he always did, way before everyone else did. Taking matters into his own hands and tracking your progress, reviewing everything you did himself before approving it to be passed down the chain of command, reeling in the few men who thought acting like dogs would get them anywhere but six feet deep with a bullet between their eyes. And so, the whispers started to change, echoes of Perseus’ executioner leaking from the cracks in the walls, men thrice your size averting their gaze when you walked by, in fear of angering their leader, knowing him as the type of man to not make threats, only promises.

He would seek your advice more often, confiding in you and asking your opinion on certain aspects of operations he wanted to greenlight. You’d been privy to the birth of many successful missions, a lot of which you’d tweaked and reworked under his careful guidance, the subtle glint in his eyes growing more and more every time you managed to surprise him, the pride in his voice unmistakable when those plans came to fruition.

One of those nights after a successful mission, he’d finally kissed you, it happened out of nowhere and even he seemed surprised about it. He’d been watching you all night from across the room, ice cold eyes trailing after you as you mingled with men unworthy of your attention, men who had no idea just exactly who they were talking to. His own thoughts surprised him, the sudden possessiveness coursing through his veins startling him and causing him to stiffen up in the corner of the room he was standing in, the men attempting to congratulate him on yet another successful operation immediately backing up at the sight of their leader so wound up.

You weren’t paying attention, not really, the sudden peak in popularity you were going through quite hard to digest at that time, going from “just another body” to Perseus’ Executioner was already taking its toll on you. So when a harsh slap resounded from across the room, startling everyone into silence, you took a second to understand what the buzz was about, your Russian at the time not as fluent as it was now, add to the fact that your brain was fuzzy from the effects of the alcohol you were drinking, the only words you caught amongst the whispers of the room currently staring in muted fear at their leader were “fucking mongrel” and “kill you where you stand.”

He'd stormed out after that, his anger palpable in the now silent room, the man victim of his wrath left to lick his wounds on the carpeted floor of the decorated conference room you were all left standing in, he wasn’t one for parties to begin with, he’d told you as much during one of your many late night conversations, social gatherings made him feel uneasy, especially when they served no purpose.

The remaining guests had slowly started to leave after that, some of them throwing you a questioning look as they walked out, forcing a frown to form on your face, sure you were still considered an outsider to this whole operation but you’d been with this team for months now, your work was paving the way for generations to come, Stitch was the first one to back that statement, his trust in you unwavering.

With that in mind, you decided to follow after him, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible in your endeavours as the fuzziness in your brain started to dissipate from the alcohol you’d been indulging in earlier. His usual hangout place in the late hours of the evening tended to be in a room adjacent to his office, he used it for multiple different purposes, and right now, that room held most, if not all, of your joint findings for future operations. You decided to check there first.

You found him hunched over one of the tables, a piece of paper crumpled in his large fist, his shoulders heaving under the thick charcoal material of his jacket, the hood covering his head doing little to conceal the man’s current emotional state. You took a hesitant step forward, not wanting to startle, or anger him further in the state he was in.

“Vik…?” You’d called softly, the nickname somewhat new and foreign to you, but you’d taken to calling him that when it was just the two of you alone, his alias always felt wrong to say, you were never quite able to put a finger on why exactly you felt that way about him, but when he’d given you his real name after countless nights spent working with you, you’d decided to go with it, accepting the gesture as what you could only imagine meant something far greater to him.

He never did answer you, his hooded head shaking back and forth in the confines of the room, the flickering light above you doing very little in terms of actual lighting, mostly casting shadows on every corner of the room, illuminating his figure but not highlighting any of his features.

He was mumbling something under his breath, the heavy notes of Russian syllables registering in your mind and forcing you to get closer to him in an effort to understand his tense ramblings. He’d heard you for sure, but he was probably too far into his own head to really acknowledge you at this point.

You took another hesitant step forward, coming to a stop next to him, his words sounding clearer now that you were next to him, but your brain still couldn’t find the right associations at that moment, too overwhelmed with the events of that day to make sense of it all.

“Vik- Can you slow down? I can’t make out what-“

He’d turned around then, his bright eyes pinning you in place, his right eye as blue as the iciest lakes of Russia, and his left eye, as white as the tallest peaks of the motherland’s mountains. He rarely held any warmth in them, even when he looked at you, it didn’t surprise you, after all, the man was a product of his environment, and his environment had been nothing but harsh and unforgiving. All in all, he’d come out of it mostly unscathed, a smart and intimidating man with a steel resolve and an ambition for revolution, it was hard to not admire him in that sense.

“Fucking pigs. Have no respect for their superiors.” He finally answered after a long moment of looking at you, his breathing had calmed down some and he was finally able to slow down when he spoke, the harsh, grating sound of his dialect oddly comforting to you.

You frowned at him then, not understanding his anger, closing the distance between the both of you and gently grasping onto the scarred hand that was holding onto the piece of paper you’d seen him crumpling up when you walked in, extricating it from his grasp and straightening it.

Your eyebrows shot up as you carefully unfolded the paper to reveal the source of his anger; a crudely drawn stick figure with pigtails and enormous breasts, bent over in front of a hooded stick figure holding a knife. The drawing obviously representing you and him engaging in something obscene.

At the bottom of the piece of paper you made out the words “Perseus’ whore”, scrawled in sloppy writing, no doubt an attempt at humor from whoever gave this to him. You shook your head as a deep sigh escaped you, crumpling the offending art project and throwing it in the bin next to the table.

“He’ll get what’s coming to him.” You whispered as you gently placed your hand onto his broad shoulders, the soft fabric of his jacket warm under your touch, your head tilting slightly to catch his eyes. “The men closest to us respect me as they respect you Vik, this will not go unpunished.”

“No matter. I will not allow such vile conduct from lowly insects. He will pay with blood.” He’d said, carefully enunciating every word to make sure you understood his meaning well, his voice had grown rougher with barely contained anger.

The tension in the room had suddenly come to a boiling point, you remember the feeling vividly, his eyes had slowly dragged up your body until they’d landed on your face. The intensity he’d held in his gaze at that moment seared in your mind forever. You feel your breath hitch just at the memory, your throat bobbing as you swallow uneasily.

“My executioner. Together we’ll watch the world burn.” He had finally said, his rough hand carefully taking your much softer one from where it lay on his shoulder, fingers intertwining as he’d closed the distance between you and him. His mask long forgotten on the table next to you, he’d probably taken it off when he walked in, chucking it carelessly onto the pile of paperwork currently taking up most of the surface.

You remember smiling at his ruthlessness, the rough Russian words had somehow seemed so romantic to you in that moment. You remember the way his scarred lips had felt as he’d finally pressed them onto yours, so warm in contrast to the cold man they belonged to. You remember the way he’d held you that night, the way his muscular body had felt against yours, the way he’d whispered your name almost reverently in between soft kisses, his body gently crowding yours against the desk, pushing you up onto it so he could fit himself between your legs, his lips never leaving yours.

He'd taken you, right then and there, on the desk. Pushed everything off the wooden surface so he could have access to all of you without restraint. His lips explored your skin, worshipping every inch of it, every scar, every blemish as if the simple touch of his lips would somehow atone for the sins of others against you. The words he’d whispered to you alternating between Russian and English, he wanted to make sure you understood just how much you meant to him.

You’d done the same to him, ensured to kiss every scar you could see, your fingers gently traced the damaged skin of each and every one of them as you whispered your own words of worship to him, the taste of his skin burnt into your DNA, the shape of each of his tattoos engraved into your mind forever.

That night changed everything.

The memory fades, your heart clenches in melancholy at the knowledge that you’ll never be able to regain his trust, his softness, his love. All that you were eclipsed, and all that could’ve been was now nothing but wishful thinking on your part.

Vikhor didn’t forget, most of all, he didn’t forgive.

After what feels like an eternity, he finally dismisses his men with a curt nod followed by a rough command, the armed men hastily retreating to their assigned post, leaving the hallway deserted for the most part and the path to his office clear.

You follow his gaze as he sweeps the hallway himself one last time, the iciness of his eyes as they take in every detail one last time makes your heart beat faster in your chest, and you’re not sure if it’s out of fear or excitement. After a moment his critical gaze lands directly on the door you’re hiding behind, his eyes squinting at the tinted glass as you duck, a curse escaping your mouth.

The majority of his face is hidden by the gas mask he constantly wears outside, coupled with the thick hood obscuring his head, it’s hard to make out his expression as he finally turns around and enters his office, the door clicking quietly behind him. A relieved sigh leaves your mouth, you shuffle quietly, gathering your thoughts and trying to calm the storm raging in your mind as you get closer and closer to what you came here to do.

You hope he’ll listen, at the very least let you apologize and explain to him what happened to you, maybe even believe you when you tell him that your heart never left this place, that your purpose was and still is to be at his side, to rule the empire you helped him build over the years.

You know your chances are slim to none, but a small part of you hangs on to that sliver of hope that he’ll spare you, that he’ll accept the information you bring him. You swallow uneasily as you get up from where you were crouching on the floor, you throat suddenly dry and constricted. Most of all, you hope that he’ll remember his love for you, the love you both shared for one another before all of this went down, before your entire identity was ripped to shreds, before you were ripped from him.

You scan the hallway one last time before opening the door as quietly as possible, your eyes jumping from corner to corner to make sure no one sees you. You know this place like the back of your hand, spent countless hours walking through these very halls, working with some of these people, and yet, you’re nothing more than a ghost now, another soul lost to the cause, another name whispered, another body never recovered.

You step carefully, gracefully to his office, the blinds behind the tinted window are always closed and today is no exception. You strain your hearing in an attempt to decipher what he’s doing behind the closed door, nothing reaches you but dreadful silence. You grasp the door handle with a sweaty hand, fingers shaking as they wrap around the cold metal, your breath quickening as you slowly turn the handle and push open the door, one foot stepping in before you stop dead in your tracks, your eyes widening.

The sight before you is enough to make your stomach drop, you see the man you love lounging behind his desk, relaxed as ever, one foot propped on top of it, the heavy military boots he wears resting on the worn wood as he stretches his body out. His right hand wrapped around his gun, the metal glinting menacingly in the dim light of the room as he slowly rocks the weapon back and forth in his hand, dragging it over the surface of the desk every so often.

His other arm hangs on the side of the chair, out of view. His head is inclined slightly to one side, eyes pinning you to the spot as he glares at you with an intensity you’ve only ever seen directed at insubordinates within his ranks. The sword of Damocles hanging over your head in the very room you’d engineered Perseus’ most successful hits.

You open your mouth to speak but no words come out, your breath rushes out of you as you try to find your footing.

“Close the door.” He finally says, his English rusty and broken, his eyes unwavering as he tracks your every move like a predator waiting to pounce. You fumble with the door for a moment before finally closing it.

“Lock it.” He tells you, his voice coming out as growl and forcing a shiver of uneasiness to trail up your spine, every fiber of your being telling you to run, to get away, to save yourself before it’s too late.

“Vik-“ You start quietly as you turn around to face him, not moving from where you stand in fear of angering him further.

“Vik? After all this time?” He interrupts you roughly in Russian, his tone dripping with venom and disdain at your use of his given name. You miss the way he flinches at your voice, the lighting in the room too dark to perceive the slight reaction.

“Please listen to me, I promise- I promise this isn’t what you think it is.” You answer back in Russian, your voice quivering with unshed tears as you take a hesitant step towards him, imploring him to find it in him to listen to what you have to say.

“Do you know how many men I have looking for you, executioner? Do you know the price there is on your head right now, my love?” He spits that last part at you like the word leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, like he can’t believe he ever called you that to begin with.

He gets up then, slowly, confidently, his foot slowly dragging across the desk before falling heavily on the floor with a dull thud, the weight of it making the desk tremble slightly. The barrel of his gun drags against the wooden surface as he slowly rounds the desk to come face to face with you, standing well over a foot above you.

His smell assaults you then, clean linen and a hint of fresh mint overshadowed by gunpowder that sticks to every piece of clothing he owns. A smell that was once familiar and comforting now eliciting a shiver of fear in you, pale eyes that once held your entire world now only hold anger and hurt, a hurt that runs so deep you feel your heart crack under the weight of his gaze.

“I’m sorry Vik, I’m so fucking sorry, you have to listen to me please-“ You whisper as your voice breaks under the torrent of emotion raging through you.

“The Americans, they took me, they experimented on me, forced me to forget everything, made me into their puppet so I could feed them information on Perseus.” You tell him, stumbling over your words as you try to make him understand what’s at stake. His eyes harden, the scar running through his left eye looks even angrier like this, the usually pale blue of his right eye now looks almost black as anger simmers in it.

You swallow uneasily as cold metal presses under your chin, forcing your head up and straining the muscles of your neck.

“And? Did you? Did you betray us? Did you betray me, my love?” He whispers as he presses the cold metal harder against the delicate skin there, the heat in his gaze igniting something inside you, it feels wrong, so fucking wrong but you can’t help yourself as a whimper escapes you.

“No. No, I- “ You swallow uneasily as you try to keep your head upright and your gaze on his, refusing the let him see how scared you are.

“I told them nothing, I invented false leads to throw them off your scent. I convinced them to let me come here to get information because I wanted to warn you- They’re coming Vikhor, they want your head, Adler wants your head.” At the mention of Adler his other hand shoots up to wrap itself around your neck, pushing you against the door violently, the hand holding the gun lets go suddenly, the weapon clattering to the ground.

His now free hand comes up to his masked face, ripping away the constricting contraption to reveal more of his scarred flesh to you, his full lips pulled back into a feral snarl as he lowers his head to your ear. “You’re telling me Russell Adler is outside this fucking building waiting for you to bring him intel on ME?!” He rasps out in a deadly whisper, the hand around your neck tightening as he slaps the other one against the surface of the door, making you flinch.

“No. Not here. I’m alone, I promise I came alone, they trust me, I made them believe they could trust me. You need to move to a different location NOW Vik, I’ll give them a random location to give you time to get your men mobilized but you can’t stay.” You reply, one of your hands closing gently around the one at your neck, squeezing gently, reassuringly. Your eyes pleading with him, trying to get through the thick layer of ice between you and him.

He smirks then, his lips twisting in a deformed grin, exposing perfectly white teeth from the corner of his mouth as his hand loosens and his thumb slowly drags across your lips, his breath fanning across your cheek as a humorless laugh escapes him.

“I should fucking kill you, make an example out of you, discard you like the dog you are.” He whispers seductively, his eyes fixated on your lips as his thumb continues to rub gently across the delicate skin there, trying to coax your tongue out to wet them.

“Vik-“ You whimper breathlessly, your heart beating wildly in your chest.

“No, instead I think I’ll let you continue on this mission of yours, you keep feeding them faulty information and you keep giving me information like the good little bitch you are, and maybe, MAYBE, I’ll let you live.” He growls out, his lips now dangerously close to yours, a wicked glint in his eyes as his tongue pokes out, dragging across his own lips as hunger starts burning through the glaciers nestled in his eyes.

His mouth is on yours then, he’s kissing you like he’s never kissed you before, desperation driving his every move as both of his hands cradle your face, one of his knees pushing your legs apart, forcing your core against his clothed thigh, the thick muscle under you flexing to accommodate you.

Your own hands grab onto the sides of his face, his strong jaw speckled in stubble, the rough texture of it making you moan into his mouth, giving him the perfect opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue meeting yours for the first time in almost a year. A guttural groan escapes him at the taste of you, his desperation increasing tenfold as he suddenly scoops you up, one hand securely around your waist, while the other grabs a handful of your ass, encouraging you to wrap your legs around him.

You hear commotion as he drops you on his desk, his lips never leaving yours as he sweeps everything off the wooden surface, in one swoop all the clutter occupying his desk is sent flying across the room, you hear what you assume is a mug, shatter as it hits the floor.

His hands are grabbing everywhere at once, pulling at your clothing as he tries to get as close as possible to you, his need presses insistently against your stomach, pulling a moan from you as you try to move against him, your own delirium getting the best of you, all previous thoughts or worries gone from your mind as you finally feel him against you once more.

“Need you, Vik, please” You whine out, your hips straining towards his for any kind of relief, the Russian words coming from your mouth in such a needy manner pushing him into a frenzy, his hands dipping under the fabric of your shirt, pulling away from you just long enough to tear the piece of fabric off of you, exposing more of your skin to him. His hands immediately going to your breasts, pulling the cups of your bra low enough to expose them.

“Shut the fuck up, don’t say my name like that, not when you ripped my entire fucking heart out when you left, not when you left and took my soul with you. I couldn’t fucking think without you, I can’t fucking live without you.” He growls out, his voice betraying him as it cracks with emotion at his own admission.

Your answer comes as a moan as his lips wrap around one of your nipples, tongue curling over the sensitive bud, your hands tighten around his neck as you throw your head back in pleasure, hips grinding against his pulsing erection, the friction not nearly enough to provide any relief through the thickness of both your pants, you let out a frustrated cry at that, deciding to take matters into your own hands, you slide your fingers down his muscular chest, the wild thumping of his heart vibrating through your skin.

You reach his belt buckle a few moments later, nimble fingers working through the loops of his belt in quick efficient movements, finally freeing it. You hurriedly unzip his pants, his hips push into your hands as he continues to explore your skin, kissing and biting every inch of exposed flesh, making you his once again, making sure you’re real and not just a figment of his imagination.

When your hands finally wrap around the thickness of him, his forehead drops against your sternum, a grunt escaping his mouth as you slowly pump his length, your own mouth leaving a trail of sloppy kisses along his jaw, his name like a prayer on your tongue, reassuring him that you’re actually there, that you’re real, that you love him.

“Can’t- can’t wait. Need you, right here, right now.” He breathes out, his hands fumbling with your pants impatiently, almost tearing them in his haste to get them off of you, not even caring to remove them completely.

“I’m here, I’m here my love, take what you need.” You whisper reassuringly, your lips catching his in another kiss as his big hand cups your core, fingers dragging through your arousal before pushing one thick digit inside you, the tight ring of muscles relaxing around him as he starts thrusting his finger in a steady rhythm, more of your arousal leaking out around his hand.

You push your face against his clothed shoulder to muffle the sounds you make, not wanting to get caught, your teeth sinking into the thick layer of muscle when he adds a second finger, the soft squelching of your wetness resonating throughout the dark room, coupled with the soft curses leaving his mouth occasionally as you continue your own assault on him, precum leaking steadily from his tip and onto your hand, making a mess of his own.

“Always so fucking wet for me aren’t you? Even when you betray me, this pussy knows who it belongs to.” He growls possessively in your ear, his movements growing more relentless as you start clenching around him, the degrading statement only adding to your growing arousal.

You cum suddenly, violently around his fingers. Tears spring to your eyes as you throw your head back, a broken half sob, half moan escaping you as he continues to thrust his fingers slowly inside your pussy, your legs shaking from where they’re still hooked around his waist.

His fingers slide out of you, forcing a hiss from you at the sudden emptiness, but the feeling doesn’t last long, you feel the thick head of his length pressing against your opening, the familiar feeling causes a shiver to rip through you.

“Look at me. Wanna see you when I make you cum.” He commands, breaching you with a steady thrust. You struggle to keep your eyes open at the onslaught of pleasure overtaking you, your eyesight blurry from tears of pleasure threatening to spill out, but you nod clumsily, one hand twisting into the material of his sweater when he starts working himself deeper into you, his breathing growing ragged at the feel of you taking him deeper and deeper with each thrust.

You lose track of the words coming out of your mouth, Russian and English coming out as a jumbled mess, different variations of his name as well as pleas to let you cum fade into one another, his hips stuttering every so often when your voice cracks around the syllables of your prayers to gods who gave up on the both of you long ago.

His hands end up around your jaw once again, the roughened skin holding your face softly as his piercing eyes hold yours, his own jaw clenched hard enough to make the vein on his forehead jump with strain as he wrestles with his feelings and with the pleasure coursing through his body, wave after wave assaulting his senses like an unrelenting storm.

When your release comes, it’s an all-consuming inferno, the muscles in your core collapsing onto the heavy thickness of him within you, forcing his thrusts to turn erratic in turn. Your head thrown back in a silent scream as you soak the desk beneath you with the proof of your pleasure, a pleasure that gets stretched out as he chases after his own release, pumping into you with abandon, strong hands holding onto your head as his own eyes roll back into his head as he finally cums deep inside you.

You both lay there panting for a moment, your minds reeling, your hearts clenched tight with emotional turmoil, wanting to stay here forever, and wanting to disappear at the same time.

When he finally pulls out, a hiss escapes him, his eyes fixated on the evidence of your coupling slowly leaking out of your abused cunt as he tucks himself back into his pants gingerly, the mask of tense indifference he wore earlier falling back into place seamlessly.

“Go. Grab your shit. I’ll find you when I’m ready.” He grunts, turning around and exiting his office without another word, leaving you there.

[ladysouthpaw1213]

Note to self: if you have a tumblr exclusive fic that you like, alway remember to reblog it just in case it ever gets deleted due to the blog it was on being deactivated.

[bambimeadows]

I still get the cutest comments on that one fic posted on Ao3 in my emails at least once a week, people asking if I’m gonna finish it and tell me they keep rereading, and I feel so bad for abandoning it because so many people showed up for me and showed me so much love for it, I know it’s not that deep but I’m gonna force myself to finish it even though I really don’t have the drive or passion anymore, posting this here to hold myself accountable 🪽 🕯️

[animefreak1145]

Decoded Cipher(Oneshot)

Description: As Adler slowly turns into the husk Stitch wants, hallucinations start to come about.

“You’ll always be the worst.” Adler’s lips moved, a shadow of a smirk. “This whole situation is ironic, you ever thought of that?”

Adler’s lips flattened as he moved his head away from them. The red shuffled away.

“It hasn’t escaped my knowledge, no. I’m growing insane, not stupid.

“You think you’re going insane?”

His ears ring with chimes.

Warnings/Tags: Mature Warning/Graphic, 18+ Dark Themes, Hallucinations, Torture, Body Horror, Trauma, Brainwashing, Mental Anguish, Mind Games, Angst

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34155400

A/N: Due to this fic being so long, Tumblr doesn’t let me post it so I’ll just post the link! Made last minute changes due to the trailer. Hope you guys enjoy the long journey with Adler! 💗

Post that gave me the push to write this by @holy-crap-i-am-russlle-adler

Post with analysis of Brainwashed Adler.

Requested Tags: @weirdoartist21 @mayaibnlaahad @kylezkie4adler @stupid-stinky @jimmothyjimmothy @aurora-windu @gojocat247 @parkeepingparker @animecriminal @nocturnalblurbee

[jesuiscalmedammit]

Mistakes Were Made – (1) Lovesick || [Russell Adler x reader/fem!Bell]

“Hey, Bell, what’s wrong?”

When he saw you sitting on the kitchen floor with your head between your knees, Russell began to worry. Was it a side effect of the procedure? Did it mean it wasn’t working properly? And what was more important, was your life in danger? As he knelt down next to you, he put his hand on your back and waited to finally hear what was happening to you.

It took you another minute to realize he was there, but when you did, you looked at him with tears in your eyes. “My head is killing me. And it’s not the first time. But–but I’m kind of scared of going to the hospital because what if it’s the symptom of something serious?”

“I’m sure everything’s fine and there’s a good explanation,” he tried to calm you down, although he was now certain it was a side effect of what they had done to you. The best he could do now was getting you some painkillers so he went to the bathroom to get them along with a glass of water. “Here, take these,” Russell said as he gave them to you.

At first you hesitated, but then you flashed a thankful smile at him. He began to wonder if this could get any worse once you were under a lot of pressure during the mission. That would cause quite a lot of trouble for the team and he didn’t want you to suffer either. Deep down he knew caring so much about you was a mistake, after all you were just a tool to find Perseus. Yes, that’s what you were: a disposable tool.

Yet…

Yet he could barely get you out of his mind. Making sure your fake memories felt as real as possible, he needed to earn your trust. He needed you to believe you were old friends so he spent a lot of time in your company. And this eventually resulted in him taking a liking to you. Which meant you were now one of the first things he thought of in the morning and the last one before he went to sleep at night.

“I think it’s my turn to ask,” you suddenly spoke up, snapping him out of his thoughts. “What’s wrong, Russ?”

What the hell was he supposed to say to this? That he was slowly but surely falling in love with you even though he knew perfectly well at the end of this mission you would have to die? What’s worse, if it came down to it, it would be him who would have to pull the trigger. Not Sims. Not Park. Not Lazar. Not even Mason or Woods. Him. He simply couldn’t let himself love someone he would have to kill eventually. Letting out a sigh, he did the only thing he could do in this situation: lie and pretend everything was perfectly fine.

“It’s nothing, you just scared me for a moment,” Russell said in the end.

Heavy silence followed his words but it was clear as day you were thinking about something. Should he ask you about it? Well, no, probably shouldn’t. If it was something you wanted him to know, you would surely tell him. But then you suddenly decided to stand up, although you were still too weak to do it without help. As he wrapped an arm around your waist to support you, he gave you a questioning look.

Once you cleared your throat, you said, “I think I should go home and get some sleep.”

“Nonsense, stay here and you can have my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.” But it would be nice to sleep next to you, he thought. Shaking his head to get rid of this thought, he began to lead you to the bedroom. “The last thing I need is you fainting on the way home,” he quietly noted.

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch, though,” you said as you sat on his bed then crawled under the blanket. “We’re adults. And I’m sure you would make a comfy pillow.”

Sharing a bed with her? When she was planning to use him as a pillow? No, that wasn’t a good idea. He wasn’t sure he could survive the night without pulling you close and kissing you at least once. But he had to keep in mind what you were: a tool to catch Perseus. Yes, that was all. He didn’t have the luxury of thinking about you in any other way. No matter how adorably you looked as you made yourself comfortable in his bed.

Clearing his throat, he said, “I still have to make a few calls and I don’t want to wake you up so I’ll stick to the couch. Goodnight, Bell.”

note: Why the hell can’t I write fluff? Why does it always have to be angst? Anyway, this series is based on this post. I think there will be a time jump after this and Bell will hook up with Alex. 1) They both know what being brainwashed is like. 2) At least Russell will realize he shouldn’t let Bell go.

[mortifying-macaroni]

I drew Bell & Adler as an early Xmas gift for @cryinginthebackseat who wrote a phenomenal fic about them. Check it out

[senfena]

Cold War: Remedy, Chapter 14

A/N: Uuuhh sorry for being gone so long. I'll try not to let it happen again. In other news, here's the chapter where I found out I'm not that great at writing combat ;w;

February 19, 1981

05:00 A.M.

Every sensation in your body kick-started as you jolted awake, screaming, shooting your torso forward to sit upright as you flailed your arms. Looking around, you found yourself in a small, sterile room, with a red door to your left, dressed in a medical gown. How the hell did you get here? And where was here? Okay, okay, panicking was going to do you no good. Your breathing slowed as you tried to calm yourself down, simply take everything in. Turning your view down your left arm, a needle was stuck inside it that led to an IV bag. You went to go pull it out when suddenly, the door swung open, and in rushed a blonde man, middle aged, with sunglasses and a brown leather jacket.

You instinctively pulled back in fear. "Wh…who are y-" "It's okay, Bell, it's just me. It's Adler." He interrupted as he slowly moved towards you with his hands up. Adler? Oh, of course. Adler, your old friend. You've known each other for years. Fought together. Bled together. Been through the hell of Vietnam together. "Adler?" You frettingly looked to him, staring into his deep blue eyes. "Yeah, kid, it's me. I'm here." He placed his hand on top of yours. You instantly felt soothed by his presence. 

"Wh..what happened? Where are we?" You questioned, never breaking eye contact. "You're in a hospital, Bell. That fall took you out of commission for a while, but you're alright now. If you can't remember much right now, that's okay, it'll all come back." You slowly nodded along. This was a lot to take in, but just knowing Adler was there for you kept you calm. "And you're back just in time too." He continued. "You remember Perseus? That soviet operative we were hunting in Da Nang? He's active again, and he's planning something big. He's gonna do a lot of damage, hurt a lot of innocent people, if we don't stop him." Perseus, that's right. The CIA's analysts consider him to be the single largest threat to the free world. That scared you a little. Were you really capable enough to stop him?

You hoped you weren't showing your fear on your face, but Adler must've picked up on it. Somehow your eye contact got even more intense as he leaned in ever so slightly closer to you. "We have a job to do." As he said that, every ounce of stress, fear, and anxiety was simply washed away, replaced only by a powerful sense of purpose. You and Adler, the ultimate team, ready to do your job to save the world better than anybody else ever could. "Let's do it." You beamed up at him as you slid your feet off of the bed, standing up with a slight stumble. That fall must've really hurt, it was still a bit painful to walk. "Here, lean on me." Adler offered as he swung your right arm over his shoulders. You both trudged out of the room, with a wide grin on your face, ready for anything.

___________

June 8, 1984

11:31 A.M.

"I don't get it. What the hell did they want at Yamantau, and why blow it up afterwards?" You quizzed Park, not shifting your eyes away from the satellite photos of the destroyed base pinned to the board. "We're not entirely sure what they wanted there, but the theory is that they intended to make it look like we destroyed it, prompting blame from the Soviet government." That got you to turn your head. "Did it work?" "As far as we can tell, no. If they never said anything about what happened in '81, or '68 for that matter, it's not likely they will this time." You smirked, glad that something was going your way after nearly two months of nothing.

"At least one of them has the decency to show us his face this time around." You muttered, inching closer to the board, eyes focused on a security camera picture of a caucasian man in heavy armor, with brown eyes and a full beard. "Do we have an identity?" You called back to Park. "Roman Gray, otherwise known as Knight." She began to debrief you. "Born in Ireland in '37, enlisted in the Irish army at 18, but in '63 he was dishonorably discharged. He was recruited by MI6 in '65, and four years ago, they also dismissed him. In both cases, due to rash, violent, and impulsive behavior." You paced in a circle as you took it all in. "Hm…and now it sounds like he's on some 'mighty revenge crusade.'"

As you mocked him, your view shifted to another photograph. A girl with a bodysuit and a half face mask, blonde hair shaved at the sides with the rest of it pulled back and tied into a braid. Something about her entranced you, as you inched up to fill your view with her photo, raking your eye over every detail, again and again. "What about her?" You quizzed Park. "Freya Helvig, known as Wraith. Born in Norway in 1952. In '78 she joined the NIS, only to leave them in '81 for Perseus." She disclosed, then paused for a moment. 

"What is it?" She took note of your intense interest, coming up to stand next to you. Good question, what was it about her? "I dunno…I guess...I guess she's kinda cute." You turned back to Park. Her only response was a cocked eyebrow, paired with a wild smirk. "I-I mean in a 'supervillain who wants to destroy the world' kind of way." Her grin only grew as you sputtered out your cheap justifications, sitting back down.

Shaking it off, you turned around to sit at the table, across from Park. "Something else that's confusing me." You uttered. "Verdansk is right at the base of the mountain, why put a giant red flag over your position like that? I mean, we know that Adler's there, but they don't know we know that." Park gazed off, losing herself to thought. "At least, I don't think they do." You tacked on quietly. It was quiet for a few moments longer. "Acceptable risk on their part?" She finally offered. If that was the case, that didn't imply good things for Adler or the rest of you.

"I just wish we had something concrete." You bemoaned as you puffed out an exaggerated exhale. "Ask and you shall receive!" Sims called over to both of you, striding into the main room alongside Hudson and Woods. "We got him." Woods announced triumphantly, grinning at you as they began taking files and documents from a case book, pinning them to the board. They found him? For real this time? All of your senses went to full alert as you stood back up.

As they finished organizing the board, Sims and Woods backed away from it as Hudson turned to face all of you. “As Woods said, we believe we have confirmation on Adler’s location.” Hudson started. “Stitch is holding him in the hospital in Verdansk. That's the good news. Trouble is, we don’t know where in the building exactly.” “I’m c-” Yes, Bell, I’m permitting you to go.” He shot down your interruption. “Not that I could stop you if I tried.” He muttered, prompting a smirky huff from you. 

“Park, Sims, you’re the chopper team, Woods and Bell are the ground team. Our plan is to fly the ground team over the building, fast rope in and infiltrate from the roof, sweep and clear the building until you find him. Chopper team holds position circling the building until the ground team gives the signal for pick up. From there you’ll be touching down at the West Berlin safehouse. We don’t know what condition he’ll be in, and in the worst case scenario bringing him there is better. Any questions?”

“When do we leave?” You immediately spat out. “Six hours. Anything else?” Silence. Hudson nodded. “Pack your bags. Bring our boy home.” You all split off to go get prepared. 

As you darted off to your room, your mind was filled with a single thought, looping again and again: "I will save you this time."

___________

June 10, 1984

9:57 P.M.

Having to endure the monotony of the helicopter ride was driving you up the walls. The only noise besides the drone of the engine and the blades slicing the air were the sounds of your M60 as you excessively checked it again and again. Click-thump as you slid the bolt back and forth, fwip as you flicked up the cover, running your finger over all the exposed bullets in the belt, clack as you knocked the cover back down. Click-thump, fwip, clack. Click-thump, fwip, clack. Click-thump, fwip,-"That trigger finger of yours a little itchy, Bell?" Sims quipped, pushing the microphone of his headset closer to his mouth. Clack. "Something like that." You muttered in response. Even with a microphone, you'd be surprised if he heard you. 

"Get ready to use it then!" Woods blurted. "We're approaching the hospital!" The chopper slowly drifted to a halt over the roof as Woods yanked open the sliding door. "Standby for greenlight." The pilot instructed, and a moment later the cabin interior light turned green. "Down the rope!" Woods shouted out, grabbing hold and sliding out of view. You weren't a beat behind him, sliding down as quickly as the laws of physics would allow you. The weight of your gun certainly didn't help your ankles in the landing, as you touched down with an audible wince. It didn't matter though. You were down, and Adler was here somewhere. 

"Bell, on me. We search room for room, floor by floor, until we find him." Woods commanded as you both hustled over to a locked door that led to the third floor. Kicking it in, you found only a few storage and maintenance items scattered about, and a stairway down to the lower levels, where they kept the patients. You both scampered down in a hurry, punting open the door to the third floor and being met with gunfire not a second later, pulling back before it could touch either of you. "Flash!" You called out, swiftly tossing in a stun grenade and waiting until BANG. The chamber momentarily became infinitely brighter, and as you popped out of cover and started cutting down hostiles, a distant ringing permeated your hearing.

Once all the hostiles had been put down and the ringing had stopped, you and Woods checked all the rooms on the floor. Nothing. And not just no Adler, there was nobody else at all. Sure, Perseus had some reach, but how'd they manage to take over an entire hospital for a city this size? Before you got too far lost in that thought train, you refocused. Adler.

You both made your way back to the staircase and down to the second floor. This time you threw in the flash as you kicked in the door. Good planning on your part, as there were about twice as many shooters on this floor. Still not a problem for you, Woods, and a hundred belt-fed full metal jacket rounds. Searching the floor, there was still no sign of Adler. He had to be on the first floor. Had to be. 

Rushing down the staircase to the ground floor, your heart rate began to rise, more from fear than anything else. Breaking down the last stairwell door, strangely there were less gunmen compared to the second floor. They must've been banking on you never getting this far down. Between putting down hostiles, you were frantically searching every room you came across, every corner of the building. Eventually the only section left was the operating rooms in the emergency center. It was down to the last enemy, he was wounded, out of ammo, and out of places to go. Woods grabbed him by the collar, snatching his rifle and tossing it aside. One sidearm bullet to the temple later, there was no one standing in your way. 

You both strided into one of the operating rooms in the next chamber. Quickly scanning the room for any more enemies, you found none, but there was one person laying on the operating table. You halted for a second. You almost didn't want to believe it. But stepping closer and looking more carefully at his face, relief flooded over you more strongly by the second. You couldn't help the gigantic smile that you broke into.

"Adler, wake up! We're here for you!" Woods called out to him, trying to shake him out of his exhaustion. "Gah…Woods…?" Adler hazily muttered. "That's right. Come on, up you come." Woods tossed Adler's right arm over his shoulder and brought him to his feet. Filled with adrenaline, you took the lead to escort you all back the way you came. "We gotta get back up. Who knows how much longer we have before they send in reinforcements." You spoke to Woods without looking back at him, but you immediately turned your head back once you heard Adler cry out in pain, seeing him collapse to the floor and taking Woods down with him.

You rushed over and put Adler's left arm over you, simultaneously lifting him back up, continuing to trudge along together. "W-wh…Bell?" It was the first time you'd ever heard him confused. "Yeah, you asshole, it's me. I'm here."

Moving as fast as you could to the helipad, Park and Sims rushed out to help lighten the load. Sims looked ecstatic, though you couldn't say the same for Park. If anything, she looked more relieved upon seeing that you were safe. As you all lifted him into the helicopter, the irony wasn't lost on you that now he was the one being heaved into a chopper for emergency medical attention. You pulled the door shut as you took off, just thankful that your days of searching were over. But now came the big question: What next?

[yunatheintrovert]

I have a request bell isn't killed, they keep her on the team, but she has severe bad effects from the brainwashing. This worries Adler since she sometimes hears him talking even if he didnt or hears other voices and footsteps.

п̴̥̲͓̮̟̩͇̗̠͐͗͗̓̿о̶̡̛̮͚̟̱̺̠̺̩̅͐͐̋̀͌̑в̵̖̹͕͙͕̖͉̊̾̋̎͒̈̉͜͜͝р̶͓̗̣̝͓̝̐̄̄̈̑̈́̏͝е̴̙̗͓̭͚͎̕ж̵̲͋̐д̸̙̖͓̩̼͌̄̂̊̓̅͒̒ͅе̶̢͈̮̣̯̗͉̼̒̿̊͝н̷̞̹̞̠͑̃͑͌̄̀̂̽н̶͕̲̔͆ы̸̡͇̭̥͎̲̠̬̐̓̇̋͊̃̎̈́̊е̷̡̺̭̺̣̎̉̆͊ ̵͖̎͒́̕̚͠т̸̼̰͚̠̟͕̤̾̊̿̅̈́͜о̴̗͍̫͖͌̂͆̽̇̐̾в̶͇͔͇͔̓ӓ̴̩͉͕̹̝̺͑̑̾̚р̴̨͔͊̓̿͌̚̚ы̷̹͗̉͘̕͠

You heard the words over the crackling static of the radio on the worktable in front of you. You just  knew what they meant. 

Most of the time, the voices over the radio spoke  to  you, spoke things  about you. 

(And really deep down in your heart of hearts, you knew what they were saying wasn’t not true.) 

However, sometimes, sometimes...they were useful. 

And so you always  listened . 

о̷̩̟̅̍̌̔̏͝н̶͎̀̒̑и̵̦͎͖̼̝͎͝ ̷̦͉͍̪̯̉͂̀̈́б̷̛̜͕̮̥̻͖̜͂͐р̸͚̣̩̇͛̒̐о̷̥̪̩́̈͂̈́̈́͛̇̕͘с̶̡̧̯͉̺͓̰̥̑̾̂̾̐͂͜͝я̸̡̯͍͠т̸̘̟̺̈ ̴̨͇̈̔̓̈́̈́̂т̶̢̹̪͇̩̙̽е̶̻͉͇̖̩̦̦͕̐̊͂̒̊͂̚͠б̵͖̹̞̠̘̻̾̏͐͂̚͜я̶̙͙͌͗̀͠

You were broken out of your thoughts by the warm yet firm pressure at your shoulder. You looked up only to see Adler staring down at you with an unreadable expression only further shadowed by his shades. 

“Sorry,” you excused quickly, “I...I’ve just been a bit tired lately. Too much coffee last night,” you said sheepishly, hoping the slight quiver of your accompanying nervous laugh didn’t give anything away. 

No matter what happened…they couldn’t find out. 

Adler only took a rather long drag of his cigarette. You distantly watched the smoke curl in the air under the stark fluorescent lighting as he breathed out. The heavy, familiar smell of nicotine and smoke in his presence was rather comforting in its consistency.

Sometimes, it felt like it was one of the few things in your life that was constant in its consistency. 

“You’re not going on the mission, Bell.” You felt your chest tighten as you struggled to hide the slight tremble of your hands from him. 

No, no, no, please no-

“I-I can provide oversight-”

“Bell.” 

“I’ve made some contacts in East Berlin through Greta Keller-”

“Bell,” you barely resisted the instinct to visibly flinch at the sound of his voice. You knew you were being desperate, perhaps  pathetic  even but you couldn’t let them catch on because really you were perfectly fineokaygood-

“That’s enough,” Adler glanced down at the papers scattered across the table from where you sat, “We need someone to hold down the fort here. You can finish up your work on the tapes we retrieved from the seized NUM-11 numbers station.”

You quietly nodded, not really looking up to meet Adler’s eyes and instead staring at the radio in front of you. The dial controlling the volume had turned down to nearly nothing. Yet you could still register the crackling static from it. 

You always could hear it. 

___________________________________________________________

К̸̡̧̢̢̢̧̬̼͇͎͚̻̳͎͙̼̜͕̣̗͈̱̱̰̟͙̻̫̙̙̲̙͙̮̳̹͈̩̭̳̟͕͕̥̟͎͈̗̮̐̀̈́͆̾̂͑͋͜ͅо̴̨̛̛̪̪͚̹̅͒͌͂̊͌̊̊̐̎̈̈́̾̊̅͋̅͐͐͋̎̆́͋̕͘̚̕͘̕͘͝л̸̛̠̗̠̮̜̰͍̖̗̘̎̿̅̅͌̃̎͋̍̾̕о̶̧̛͔͙̯̭̲͍̞̟̺͛͗̈͛̍̽̓̈̏̆̈̾̋̌̾̌̓͗̃̈́̑͊̐̊̓̀̇̂̈̾̋̚̕͘͘͘к̴̢̢̨̨̨̦͚̲̜̮͙̯͖͎̭̤̱͓̭̦̔͋̈̿̋͛̒̿͜о̵̧̡̪͕͈̥̞͙̯̯͇̮̬̝͔̬̟̠̔̉̐͛̾́͆̽́̊̈͛̅͆̕͜͝͝л̶̡̡̢̧̡̧̛̣̮̤̪͇̤̖̠̪̗̝̤̗̰̜̳̖̰̙̘͍̲̬̪̪͔̖̟̪̺̬͖̞͖̤͒̇̌͗͗̈́̿̊͂̋̌̈́͌̐͑̊͑͒͋̋͒̎̽̈́̍͂̓͂̐̈́̚̕̕̕̚͜͝͝͝͠͝͝ͅ,̴̛̱̖̲͔̂͑̀̀́̒̓͗͋͑̾̓̾̓̆̆͑̈́̐͋̌͆͌̈́͑̀̄̆̑͐̎̏͛̄̆̈̄͘͘͝͝ ̶̢̡̧̛̤̫̲̥̹̪̯̩̪̼̱̻̠̠͎̣̳̱͓͕͍̝̓͒̓͌͆͒͊̅̇͊̎͂̅̒̈͂̇͗̌̒͂̄̒̍̎̈́̍̓̆͘͘̚͠͝ͅк̵̢̨̧̨̡̫̫̙̖̙̣͈̤̤͓̘̳̪̟͚̲̘̯̭͇͉͕̤̖̟̩̟̙̭̹͈͎̝̖͖̣̘̼̺̍̃̎̎͆̽́̏̐̈́͌̅͑͊̇̏̒̈́̈̌̔̿̀̾̐͋̐̕͘̚͜͠͝͝о̷̡̢̨̛̪̮̫͓͎̥̝̳͉̥̜̥̟̭̟̟̗͚̹̘̹͖̩͉̮̰̲͕͍̣̻̝̙̫͓͕͙̙̠͇̒̉͌̒͌̓̊̾̒̾͐̇̅̽́̈̎͒̒̔̑̀͘͝ͅͅл̷̧̧̧̛̜͇̫͇͉͈̰͖̙̖͎̹̼̘̘̗͉̮̟̪̮̰͙̻͚̯̦̘͍̯͍̯̦̙̞͈̝̣̠̜̖̝̼̃̏̽̑́̔̊̑̋̈̂̐̈́͗́̉̀̾̃̈̒̑̅͂͑͆̓̔̂̆͐͘͘̚͠͝͝ͅͅͅо̶̨̨̧̝̖̙̘͓͇͇̜̲̙͓̤̝̱͕̣̗͍̱͎̰̟͔̝͕̲͚͚̺̪̞͍̮͚̙̙̤͍̳̽͆̎̉̍͗̽̀̈́̚͜͜͜͜͜͝ͅͅͅк̸̭͕̰̦͔̤͕̜̦̤̬̗̫̭̔̆̂͐̄͌̇͗̒̓̈́̒͆̄̅̒̓̏͌̽̉͂̚͝͠о̸̢̭̣̥͙̹͇͋̑̔̆̐̽̓̒̾̍̋͊̾̀̊̕ͅл̴̧̨̡̢̡̹̤̩̙͇͚̳͉̙̼̜̣̤̱̹̝̘͖̩̺͈̗͎͉͎̜̳̖͇̹̻̝̘̞̬̱̭̰̜͔̲̳͕͛̓̇̾̋͌̎̈́̃̽̆̊͐̍̏̊̃͂̾̕͠͝͠͝,̶̨̨̨̢̡̛̛̤͓͎̮̻̫͚͔̠͓͇̭̱͙̤̻̫͓͈̞̼̱͆̂̂̊̏̉͒̅̋͐̂̍͛̀̿̎͆͊̉͊̏̈̈́͛͘͠͝͝ ̴̪͙̳̟̼͂͗͆͌̒̓̌̾͑̈́̓̊̽̒̌̿͂̾̒̿͋͌̐̿̽̎̓̌͂̚͠к̷̢̢̢̧̡͍̬̻͈̦͕̝̹̹̮͎͓͈̬͔͕̫̮̩͓͉͎̭̲͎͌̐̈́̈́̇ӧ̴̨̧̛̛̖̠̭̩̮͇̙̦͔͎̤̩̺̤̙̺̘͈̪̫͈̟̲̝͖͓̳̯̱̙̱̲̮̩͇̖͈̘̗̱̬͇̰̫̪́͌̔̄̓͌̐͆̈́̔̽̑̕͜ͅл̶̢̨̨̧̨͙̮̭̪͖̲͎̭̦͙͚͙͈̩̮̱̣̞̱̱͉̹͈̹̳͈̣̙̲̼̖̯̗͔̣̼̺̯̠̩̲̪͔͇̙̽̓̽̄͐̌̍̇̃͑̌̽͛̈͊̕͠ͅͅӧ̵̥͔͍̲̖͍̙̝́̋͑̆͋̈̃͒̐̉̎͋͑̃̿̚̕̕͠͝͝͝к̴̢̧̨̳̘̰̹̥͖̩̺̣̜̗̠̤͍̠̲̖̣̠̠̭̯̱͚̟̞̤̠̠̯͎̮̫͖͖̩̭͍̼͐͛̌̾̓͌̈́̅̎̿͑̑̋͑͌͊̾̅̽̆̐͋̿̈͋͑̽̃̒͘͜͜͠͝͝ͅͅо̸̨̢̲̟̖̪̝̖̦͈͇̘̝̮̻͉̲͉̰̬̺̤̺̯͍̩͔̯͚͐̋̄̊̿̿͂͊͂̈̂̑̉̈̾͌̃̒͂̑̐̑̍̊̎̊͑͆́̒̅̾̊̀̎̄̕͘̚͜͝͠ͅл̴̡̛̛͎̼͎̩̺͖͈̮̼̙͎̖̼̯̮̯͖̺̭̰̟̞̫͕̼̼̦͙̲̗̄͋̄̎͌̅͊͐̅̌̔̿̒̑͌͂̂͑͛̋̆̓̅͌̋̆̀̉͗̊̿̄͋̊͐̈́̏̀̀̆̈͠͝͝

  You heard the Russian voice casually roll over the words in a sing-songy manner over the crackling static of the radio as you stared down at the transcriptions of the seized tapes before you.

Focus, you told yourself.

After all, you had a job to do. 

And for a while, you felt the static and voices intermingle as they rose and fell in a cacophony of sounds. At this point, you had already identified several patterns in the encryptions of the tapes. Give and take a few more hours and you’d well be on your way to decrypting it. 

At one point, you heard a deeper voice join the others. 

Something about the familiar voice and the way it rolled the words...unnerved you. 

At this point, you couldn’t fight the urge to get away from the radio and television set. The likelihood of static coming from the devices was always something you tried to avoid. Because,  something always came along with the static. 

The coldness of the metallic door handle was registered on your hand as you pulled open the door to the bathroom. Perhaps, you just needed to wake yourself up a bit.

You hadn’t gotten any sleep for days and it was beginning to show.

And with that came the risk of the others finding out. 

You turned the knob of the sink faucet and saw the rushing of the clear, cold water coming from it. 

And then you heard it.

Or rather a lack of it. 

There was nothing. 

Pure and utter silence. 

No static, no voices coming from the other side of the door-

You couldn’t even hear the sound of the fans running in the safehouse and the sound of your own breathing. 

Nothingnothingnothing

No, no, no- You were okay.

You were  fine .

  К̸̡̧̢̢̢̧̬̼͇͎͚̻̳͎͙̼̜͕̣̗͈̱̱̰̟͙̻̫̙̙̲̙͙̮̳̹͈̩̭̳̟͕͕̥̟͎͈̗̮̐̀̈́͆̾̂͑͋͜ͅо̴̨̛̛̪̪͚̹̅͒͌͂̊͌̊̊̐̎̈̈́̾̊̅͋̅͐͐͋̎̆́͋̕͘̚̕͘̕͘͝л̸̛̠̗̠̮̜̰͍̖̗̘̎̿̅̅͌̃̎͋̍̾̕о̶̧̛͔͙̯̭̲͍̞̟̺͛͗̈͛̍̽̓̈̏̆̈̾̋̌̾̌̓͗̃̈́̑͊̐̊̓̀̇̂̈̾̋̚̕͘͘͘к̴̢̢̨̨̨̦͚̲̜̮͙̯͖͎̭̤̱͓̭̦̔͋̈̿̋͛̒̿͜о̵̧̡̪͕͈̥̞͙̯̯͇̮̬̝͔̬̟̠̔̉̐͛̾́͆̽́̊̈͛̅͆̕͜͝͝л̶̡̡̢̧̡̧̛̣̮̤̪͇̤̖̠̪̗̝̤̗̰̜̳̖̰̙̘͍̲̬̪̪͔̖̟̪̺̬͖̞͖̤͒̇̌͗͗̈́̿̊͂̋̌̈́͌̐͑̊͑͒͋̋͒̎̽̈́̍͂̓͂̐̈́̚̕̕̕̚͜͝͝͝͠͝͝ͅ,̴̛̱̖̲͔̂͑̀̀́̒̓͗͋͑̾̓̾̓̆̆͑̈́̐͋̌͆͌̈́͑̀̄̆̑͐̎̏͛̄̆̈̄͘͘͝͝ ̶̢̡̧̛̤̫̲̥̹̪̯̩̪̼̱̻̠̠͎̣̳̱͓͕͍̝̓͒̓͌͆͒͊̅̇͊̎͂̅̒̈͂̇͗̌̒͂̄̒̍̎̈́̍̓̆͘͘̚͠͝ͅк̵̢̨̧̨̡̫̫̙̖̙̣͈̤̤͓̘̳̪̟͚̲̘̯̭͇͉͕̤̖̟̩̟̙̭̹͈͎̝̖͖̣̘̼̺̍̃̎̎͆̽́̏̐̈́͌̅͑͊̇̏̒̈́̈̌̔̿̀̾̐͋̐̕͘̚͜͠͝͝о̷̡̢̨̛̪̮̫͓͎̥̝̳͉̥̜̥̟̭̟̟̗͚̹̘̹͖̩͉̮̰̲͕͍̣̻̝̙̫͓͕͙̙̠͇̒̉͌̒͌̓̊̾̒̾͐̇̅̽́̈̎͒̒̔̑̀͘͝ͅͅл̷̧̧̧̛̜͇̫͇͉͈̰͖̙̖͎̹̼̘̘̗͉̮̟̪̮̰͙̻͚̯̦̘͍̯͍̯̦̙̞͈̝̣̠̜̖̝̼̃̏̽̑́̔̊̑̋̈̂̐̈́͗́̉̀̾̃̈̒̑̅͂͑͆̓̔̂̆͐͘͘̚͠͝͝ͅͅͅо̶̨̨̧̝̖̙̘͓͇͇̜̲̙͓̤̝̱͕̣̗͍̱͎̰̟͔̝͕̲͚͚̺̪̞͍̮͚̙̙̤͍̳̽͆̎̉̍͗̽̀̈́̚͜͜͜͜͜͝ͅͅͅк̸̭͕̰̦͔̤͕̜̦̤̬̗̫̭̔̆̂͐̄͌̇͗̒̓̈́̒͆̄̅̒̓̏͌̽̉͂̚͝͠о̸̢̭̣̥͙̹͇͋̑̔̆̐̽̓̒̾̍̋͊̾̀̊̕ͅл̴̧̨̡̢̡̹̤̩̙͇͚̳͉̙̼̜̣̤̱̹̝̘͖̩̺͈̗͎͉͎̜̳̖͇̹̻̝̘̞̬̱̭̰̜͔̲̳͕͛̓̇̾̋͌̎̈́̃̽̆̊͐̍̏̊̃͂̾̕͠͝͠͝,̶̨̨̨̢̡̛̛̤͓͎̮̻̫͚͔̠͓͇̭̱͙̤̻̫͓͈̞̼̱͆̂̂̊̏̉͒̅̋͐̂̍͛̀̿̎͆͊̉͊̏̈̈́͛͘͠͝͝ ̴̪͙̳̟̼͂͗͆͌̒̓̌̾͑̈́̓̊̽̒̌̿͂̾̒̿͋͌̐̿̽̎̓̌͂̚͠к̷̢̢̢̧̡͍̬̻͈̦͕̝̹̹̮͎͓͈̬͔͕̫̮̩͓͉͎̭̲͎͌̐̈́̈́̇ӧ̴̨̧̛̛̖̠̭̩̮͇̙̦͔͎̤̩̺̤̙̺̘͈̪̫͈̟̲̝͖͓̳̯̱̙̱̲̮̩͇̖͈̘̗̱̬͇̰̫̪́͌̔̄̓͌̐͆̈́̔̽̑̕͜ͅл̶̢̨̨̧̨͙̮̭̪͖̲͎̭̦͙͚͙͈̩̮̱̣̞̱̱͉̹͈̹̳͈̣̙̲̼̖̯̗͔̣̼̺̯̠̩̲̪͔͇̙̽̓̽̄͐̌̍̇̃͑̌̽͛̈͊̕͠ͅͅӧ̵̥͔͍̲̖͍̙̝́̋͑̆͋̈̃͒̐̉̎͋͑̃̿̚̕̕͠͝͝͝к̴̳̘̰̹̥͖̩̺̣̜̗̠̤͐͛̌̾̓͌̈́̅̎̿͑̑̋͑͌͊̾̅̽̆̐͋̿̈͋͑̽̃̒͘͜͠͝͝��̢̧̨̠̲̖̣̠̠̭̯̱͚̟̞̤̠̠̯͎̮̫͖͖̩̭͍̼͜ͅͅо̸̨̢̲̟̖̪̝̖̦͈͇̘̝̮̻͉̲͉̰̬̺̤̺̯͍̩͔̯͚͐̋̄̊̿̿͂͊͂̈̂̑̉̈̾͌̃̒͂̑̐̑̍̊̎̊͑͆́̒̅̾̊̀̎̄̕͘̚͜͝͠ͅл̴̡̛̛͎̼͎̩̺͖͈̮̼̙͎̖̼̯̮̯͖̺̭̰̟̞̫͕̼̼̦͙̲̗̄͋̄̎͌̅͊͐̅̌̔̿̒̑͌͂̂͑͛̋̆̓̅͌̋̆̀̉͗̊̿̄͋̊͐̈́̏̀̀̆̈͠͝͝

  You heard the sharp, hissing crackle of static and the rasping of the voice but it wasn’t coming from the other side of the door. Oh no-

It was coming from inside you. 

М̴̛̳̰͚͙̦̗͚̱̙͎̓͊̍̾̚͝о̵̲̠͔͎̣̪̭̘̒̒̏̈͒͑͆̒̿͒̂̾̍̀̕͠͝͝͝͠й̵̪̳̰͔̲͙̘̩̘̭͔͖͙͉͗͆͌̉̽̑̎̐̊̇͌͘͝ ̷̨̡̢͕͚̤͎̲̬̞̺̮͚͙̏͌̍͗͋̃̋͊̉́̆̎͐̉̽̀͑̄͌́͛͑̄͘̚͘͘̚͝͠с̵̡͇̯̜̗̖̝̟̺̘͆̿̍͂̌̌̽̓̚͜͜͜͝͝͝а̴̖̫̣̞̄̒͗̂м̵̡̨̡͇͎̺͎̝͔̱̟̲̘̱̗̩̦̰͖͙̼̯̹̹̺̙͙̦̃̎̾̅̑̎̇̈́̾̐͑̔͜͜͝͝͠ͅы̸̧̢̧̛̝͙̮̩̟̗̳̯͈͎̼̪̦̩̬̲̜̘̘͔̰̝̳͖͎̼͉͖̲͕̀̈́̅̃͑̉͛̈́̿́͋̇͆̽̍̂̋́̈̈̉̃̅͂̀́̀̾̄͊̽̒̆̐̌͛̕͜͜͜͝͝͝͠й̶̯͉͚̝̲̹̯̩̫͇͉̭̯̜͉̯͓̙͙͓͚̱͕̭͌̔̈́͜ͅ ̴̡̨̡͇̺͖̜̝͔̏̓̏́̇͒̊̔̒̂̇̿̏͘͠͝͝͝͝в̴̢̨̢̢̢̯̩̳̖͎̜̣͔̰̰͕̪͎̞̙̗̮̥̟̟̫̩̫̜̞̣͕̙̳͔̟͕̮̣͎̼̪̱̳͙̳̩̗̲͛́͂̂̑̂̽̌̄͛̌͋̚ͅͅе̴̧̱̌̄̈́р̸̧̛̛̛̫̥̲͍̹̹̞̭̦̮̙̲̤͈̭̬̻̳̱̹͇͎͍̖̘̭̪̦̬̤̖͊͌́̐͆̒̔̈́͑͒̎̊́͊̇̓̈́̏̓̈́̅͂̐̅̏̾̀͋͗̂͌̏̅͗̎̏̂̌̕͝͝͝͝ͅн̴̡̨̡̧̡̞̗͈̲̰̱̼͇̮͔̱̖͈̺̜̠̞͉͎͕̝̝͉̮͇͓̮̳̜͍̠͖̜̘̫̝͖͓̼̿͆͋̾̆̒̚̕͜͝ы̴̨̢̢̨͔̺͈̹̯̦̞̘̱͓̫͖̩̦̮̗̱͔̞̱̗̼̙̯͉̖̼͔̜̼̼̥̫̮̦̟̻̦͙̳̗̰̝̙̰̃̅̃̏̌̉͗̀̾͐͘й̷͍͂͜͝ͅͅ

It was in your head, hissing and crackling into your mind with every damning word. 

You clamped your hands on the side of your head, closing your eyes shut. You knew that no matter what, you had to remember that this,  this wasn’t real. 

( But really was anything ever real? ) 

You heard the voice nearly purr in what it said next. 

с̴͉̹̬̪͎̱̺̩̂̋̽̓͆̊̈́̌̈́̀͊́̅̃̚̕͘͝м̴̡̨̨͙͓͎̤̝͚̜̖͍͈̼̱̞͔͉̘̫͈̭̮͇̙̝̦̝̙̅͒̓̌̆̔́͑͛͆̒̒͊̅̉̌̂̎́̍͆̃͆̕͜͠ͅӧ̷̨̡̠̺̺͚̮̳̫̱͍͓̗̬̙̪̫͉͈͈͓̻͉̖̟̣͇̖͕͙̘̼͔͍̰̹̱̼̬̈̈́͂̄͑͋͗͒̒̍̓̔̍̓̕͠͝͝ͅт̷̡̨̺̰̱̠͖̫͓͖̤̟̦̪̙̈͗̏͗̔̈́͋͗̿̈́̇̈͘͜р̶̡̡̢̨͍͕̮̱̜̖̣̲̺̗̳͍̘̤̟̥͓̞̥̝̰̫̳̰̞͚͙̹̙̖̗̫̇͒̔̆̈́̅̍͗͂̌͆̓̌̓̈́̓͑́͛̅͐͌́̋͆̍̾̇̍̾̂͛̌̎̚̚͜͜͝͝͠͝ͅͅе̷̢̢̡̻̞͙͔̲̜̰̭̺̳͚̮͔̯̠͔̘͚͓̣̯̻̻͔͕͚̻̠̟̼̥̙̤͕̭̱͓͂̐̈́̽̈́͐̆́͐͆̾͘͝т̸̨̨̡̛̛͉̝͙͔͕͍͎͔̟̮̮̲̺̻͉͍̺̙͕̖̣̙̖͕͈͙̝̪͍̅̽́̂̓͊͊̄̈͜͝ь̸̡̨̧̨̣̮̜̫̺̥̲̗̼̞̺̱͇̝̮̦̪̥̪̮̳̣̼͓͈͓̓̓̐́͑̑͒̈̋̊͆͆̔͋͂͂͆͋̆͘̕͜ ̶̨̢̢̪̭̙̠͍͖̭̭͔̦͈̥̜̹̣̼͍̲̙̼̺̩̞̭͎͍͓̠̰̺̜͖̪͓̮̩̋͂͜͝в̶̧̘̝̥̤͖̥̺̦͚͙̮̖̫̤͕̻̩̭͙̮̲͛͜в̶̲̻̜̻̲̑͑͆̀̈́̂͌̀̏̿̇̽̃͒̓̋͐͆̎̄̏̆̿̋̔̒̌̋̄͆͋͌̇̄̃͘̚͝е̷̡̬̳̪̣̭͋ͅр̸̡̨̧̩̠͍͔̺͎͙̭̥̮̙͕̳͙͎̲̗̹̠̘̜̦͕̺̬͖̖̫͔̪͍̻͓͈̹̜̳͙̜̺̈̊̅̇̉̒͑̽̎͒͛̓̈́͐̆̉̽͋̏̃̑̍̑͘͠х̵̡̡̥̤̗͕̠̳̫͍͍̬̲͍̹̯̥͚̘̼͔͖̈́̉͛̅̀̄̽̈́̎̈́̉͋̀͒̐͛̽̎͋̿̀͂̔̿͋͑͝͝͝͝

And there was something about the way it-no he said those words that you knew you should look up. 

"You have a job to do, Bell.” 

And so you looked up into the mirror-

There stood a red bunker door. 

And you just shattered. 

В̶̧̧̧̛͎̩̺̞̜̫̼̯̖̫͕̣͙̖̙͕̣̤͔̰̻̼̭̗̥͉̹̬͚̘̘̗͓̞͎͍͚͔͇̲̝͕̝̯̳͎̰̳͇̝̥̘͎̙͍͇̝̱͓̣̂̈́̉͋̒̈́̃̈́̋̍͗͊͗̑̀͆͗̀̒͑̔͒͊͑͗͆̍͌̏͐̄̍͂̊͗̈́͋͌̎͒̈̔͐̉͐͘̕͘͜͜͠͠͝͝͝ы̴̨̡̡̢̢̢̛̛̛̛̥̭͎͓̤̠̜̖̯̫̤͓̣͈͔̘̠͚̰̗̜̯̟̥̣̺̦͙̩̱̟̻̙̻̩̖̰̩̞̲̬̻̄̆̓͌̌̆̂̈̌͐̿͂͋̊͋̀́̃̊͛͐̃̐͗͋̑̇̅͐̐͐̋́̌̋͋̿̀͆́̿̅̐͑͂͋̿̇͑̈̍̉̃̎̾͑̓̉̌̀͐͊̈́͋͂̍͆̽̀̀͗̈͑͆̕͜͜͠͝͝͝͠͠͝͠͝͝ͅ ̷̧̨̢̧̧̨̛̛̛̩͕͙̬̺̱͉͍͉͇̬͈͔̯̣͍̭͙͓̯̗̞͖̗̤̮͇͔͍͍̘̝͍͇̹̦̮̏̌͗̏͐̑̓̽̋́̈́͐̍̋͑̃͂͌̈̉̈͛͂͛̒̈̌̂̿͆͋̃͑̄̒͛̎͒̓̓͆̓̽̈́̒͌͗̈́̐͐̓͑͌̇̄̋̑̈̃͛͆̈́̈́̈̏̔̎̄̆̏̀̈́͒̏͂͊̃̃̔̊̍̿̈́͛͌̽͑̈̅̆̾͆̈́̓̑͋̈́̑͌͘͘̕͠͝͝͠͝͝͠͝ͅͅд̷̗̞̼̦̺͙͖̘̠̺̜̺̺̯̰̠̼̙̞̪͙͖̬̭̠̠̮̜͚̣̝̟̻̪̑̍̉͆̓̿̽͂͆̀͋͆̆̾̔̔͊̓̐̔̓̐̊̑̄̌̒̓̉̂̅̎̊̊̾͋͒̆͑̉̔̅̉̄̾̊̃͌̈́̌̇̀͆̋̉̊̽͐̋̂͘̕͘̚͘̚͘̕̕̚͘͜͝͝͝͝͠͝͝е̵̡̨̨̛̛̞̻̦̬̖͔̬̠̤̠̻͙̳̞͉̞̤͙͎̠̱̼̰̥̫̳̬̳͔̘̻̯̹̗̱͍̥̠̮̞̹̣͉̦͉̜͈͎̯̮̘̣̺̙̠͖͙͙͇̼̠̥͇̖̜̮͓̥̙̝̬̇͂̏̆̈́͗̒̈́̉́̉̓̎̉̈́͒̈́͌̇͊͊͐̀͋̈̋͐̿̃̎͛̊̂̔̽͌̓͐̈̅̉̆͂̍̅̎̈́̿̈́̈́̿͋̓͒̓̆̊̎̊͛̈́̽͒̍̚̚͘͜͜͠͝͠͝͝ͅͅй̶̢̧̡̨̡̨̡̡̧̧̢̡̨̡̦̜̱͚͚͚̳̬̯̤͎̞̠͚̱̯̥̦̣̙̥͎͉̝͔̘̝̞̜̩̫̫̤̬̮̺͖͔̮̘͍͙̜͙̬͎͈̓̎͂͑̓̄̈́̑̊̏̉̈́̑̂̏̋̈́̽̆̓̿̈́͒͒̈́͑̅̋̃̊͒̾̈́́̋͌̈́̌̋̈́̑̇͒̂͋͑́̉̓̍́̇̎͂̍̈́̊͛͂͂̒͋͌͊͋̌̍͌͊͌̈́̈̆̾̔͂͌̍̉̄̏̈́̂̋͗̒̇͂͘͘̚̕̚͜͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝с̴̤̥̜̱̦̣͈̮͙̮̟̮͖̰͖̬̥̲̤̮͎̦̮͇͍̖̘̲͍̦͒̏̈́́̈́͆̆̽́͌̈̂̂̅̓͆̔̄̐̔́̽̓͂̆̀̈́́̀͛͂̍̎͗͂̍͑̒̄͋̓̏͋̋̈́̓͗̍̄̚͝͝͝т̴̨̧̨̧̧̡̧̧̧̨̧̢̧̛̛̺̖͙̻͓͍̱̪̻͖͈͈̙̝̮̬͎͎̤̝̗̤̠͓̳̱͓̠͎̮̩̤̟̱̜͖͇̤̻̬̯̖̟̫̹̥̘̯̪͇̹̰͇͈͍͖̣̹̤̘͓̩̱̰̞̠̖̻̪̻̖͍̥̯̗͖̘͈̙̰̠̫̪͈͖̣̩̅͆̅̀̓̑͂́͊̏̒͂͆̓͋̋̉̈́͒͑̍̾͛̈́͒̀̋̈́̾̓̔́̅͑̆̃̍̅̌̑͐̎̓̿͑̚͜͜͝͝ͅв̷̢̡̛̛̦̩̩̳̼̖̻̦̤̫̜̜̦̭̥̪̫̲͖͇͉̯̦̤̹̖͑̓̌͋̿̈́͆̆̈́̈́̆͗̈́̄́̔͆͗̄̈̒̓̉̅̆̾̈́̈́̂͋̿̐̾̿̊̽̆̃̍̈́̈́́̈́̓̏̌́̉̆̈́̇͘̚̕͜͝и̷̢̧̨̨̨̨̧͖͔̺͙̩͍̗̯̞̞͙̫̗͈̰̲̻͕͈̫͙̣̞͔̼͔̖̬̯͕͚̺̘̗̙̲͓̗̗̠̥͈̖̠̰̹̖̘͈̪̠͚̰̣̳̺̰̙̙͚̞̩̘̣͙̻̬̮̦͈͔̙̺̝̤̝͖̞̱̲̪͎̤̦̠̼̦͍͉̭̂̂̔̒͛̒̒͌̒͑̾̄̐̿͒̈́̍̆̈́̿̃̐̌̽̈͂̀́̆͗̽̂̿̽̿̿͘̕̚͘̚͜͜͜͜͜ͅͅт̵̡̨̡̢͔̠͔̟͇̯̥̼͖̜̳̬͚̠̲͎̤͖̺̰̹̦̯̞̬̮̫̱͖̰̲͉͚̲͊͌̍͜ͅѐ̵̡̨̡̧̡̧̨̧̧̡̛͍̺̗̤̲͔̣̮̩̹̙̼̹̠̖͉̱̞̫̗͇̟͖̻̺̠̥͍̲̪̠̪̤̜̼̱͔̪̥̭̭̺̤̟̹̠̲̰͎̖̲̳̬͔̫͚̆̾̔͛̒͒̿̈͂̀̆͒̔͑̓̑̽̓̇̏̅͒̔̉̉̏͂̊͊̈̆̽̊̌̿͑͐̿͛̌̈̃̏͐̾́͐̈͗̃̋͌̇̏̂̿͒̚̕͘̕̕̚̕͘̚̚͜͝͝͠͝͝͝ͅͅͅл̷̢̡̢̨̡̢̨̢̧̧̧̨͕̞͉͉̞̦̹̫̪͔͓͕̣̦̝̜̘͎̦͚̠̫̳̰͔͔̖̟̥̲͓̲͇̺͔̞̲̪̤̟̭͈̯̜̫͈̪̠̟̖̱̤̬̰̥̻̘͉̯̗͈̟̻̣̲̯̜̼̣͇͎͈͉̠̟̟͉̘͕̮̻̩̦̫̤̦͉̘̳̬̦̙̦̓̊͒̓͂̒̆̈́̌̾̑̄͒̄͌͒̈̅̽͑̅͛͊̊̆͒̎̅̈́̔̽̌̿̋̂̓̂̃̐̓̽͘͜͜͜͠͝͝͝͝ͅͅь̷̧̧̧̨̢̢̧̨̛̛̛̛̺͈̰̭̲̖͎͇̫̥̯̲͚͔̬̺̣͈̤̜̠͕͕̦̺͈̞̺͖͚̥̦͚̮̟̠͇̟̭̟̖͖̣͖̹̣̖̲͉̺̜̲͓̙̝̪̳̪͇̟̗͇̪̝̟͎̭͎̮̩̬̺͍̠̱͙͔͕̪̪̝̳̖̗̠̱̓̔͗͗̆̆͗̓̒̅̇̎̓̆̌͂̂͆̾̿͒͒̔̉̐̉͗̒̂͐̽̒̑̒̀͑̌̍̀̔̄̑͑̃͛̾̽̎̄̾͊͒̀͒͑́̈̆̓͑̈̆͂̐́̈̏̽͆͂̉̔̕̕̚͘̕͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͠ͅн̵̨̡̡̢̢̡̡̢̢̡̛̫̹͉̦̭͈̖̺̹̣̺̱͔̩͙͈̙̣̲͈̫̳̜̦̪̥̩̦̼̬̺͉̟̱̦̩̙̻͓͕̤̞͉͙̜̺̻͉̭̳̟͓̰̱̪̰̤͖͕̬͉̹͙͖̜̰̣̮̜͚̬̙̰̩̬͇̹̹̭̠̬̙̻̖̣͈̩̭̖̺̤͓̺͚̩̯͈͉̘̓̂̈̍̇̑͌̊̓͑̓̋͛̿̋͑̆̽̐̂̈́̊̎̓̆̽̓̋͒̊̒̓̇̋͐̉͋̕͜͜͝͠͝͝͝ͅо̷̡̨̡̨̢̧̨̢̨̪̪̞͔̳͙̥̲̬͇̯̺̬̹̗̫̪͚̠̰̞̩̤̼͔̠̼̙͕͎͇̠̬̝͇͇̩̤̟̬̳̙̲͖̘̮̰̻̻͚̼̬̠͔̭̙͕̹̼̳͖̻͇̰̭̦̼̫̫͔͈͎̣̲̬̼̟̱͇̣̼̱̟̘̙̠̞̦͋̿̃̀̅͆͋͐̈́̔̐̓̿̈́̐̌̑̅͑̃̃̎͋̔̍̉̾̍̈́͊͐̄̽̈́̉̈́̔̿̍́͋̌̄͑̀̌͘̚̚͜͝͠͠͝ͅͅͅ ̷̨̧̧̛̗̝͈̬͓͖̻͕̰̇̐̔̎͛̇̋̈́͌͋͐̄̀͑̆̐͊̊͋̔̃̐̿͛͆̍͛̌̐̒̾͊̑̇̒͑͋̊̅̋̒͑̽̇͊̑̇̆͐̏̑͆̉̽͊̾̀̓̎̏̎͋̅̄͆́͌̆̄̾̈̏̅̇̆͊̈́̽̀̏̉͐̓̽̐͋̂̍̈͘̕̕̚͘̚͘̚͘͠͠͝͠͠͝͝͝͠͝͝͝д̷̧̡̢̢̧̡̨̨̡̡͕̬͇̯̯̳̻͈͎̦͔̫͇̻̻͇̺̪̮͈̫͓̩̟͕̺̣̣̞̖̻̤͓̠͕̪̞̠͔̖͕͎̭̖̼̟̯̝̲̞̩̫͕̘̱̣͕͔̲̮̮̹̗͖͙̞̰̤̪͔͍̻͍̯̜̖͈̭͖̱̻̣͓̫̳͇̼͚͔̮̦̲͔͈͓̙̻̗̗̳̯̊̑̌̽̉̈́͆͗̈́͂͂̉͌̐̓̀̓̈́̓̊͆̀̽̾̅̋́̎̌͂͆͑̑̋͂̈́̌̅̏̔̄̆̾͂͆̐̾̓̂̌̒͗̌̐͐͗̚̕̚͘͜͜͜͝͝͝͠͝͝у̸̨̢̛͉͔̥̤͉̺̮͖̬̣͕̜̙̙̺͇̬͓̟̯̥̜̗͐͑̇͌̏̏͗͗̊̈̽͑̿̒͋̌̍̈́̇̍͒̍̾̒̆̌͐͐̈̍̔̑̋̏̈́̾͌́̃̆̊̍̒̀̏̾̀̎͂̄̎̓͂͘̕̚͘̚͝͝͠͠͠м̶̢̢̧̛̛̝̯̙̳͖̱̱̼͙̝̣̦̳̦̟͕̟͖͍͓̤̙͓̲̟̙̩̯͍͙͇͈̞̟̮̠̞̠̺͓̲͙̗͍̣̩̜̫̹̳̹̖̠̘̟̲̮̤̤͍͈̟͇͔͚͚̞͖͂͗̈͐͋̊̇̓̊͒̓̓̉̃͆͊̌̽͐̋̐̎͊̔͘͘͘͘͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͠͝ͅͅͅа̸̢̛̥̝̗̝̀́͂̓̎̃̏̏̉̔̑̿̈́̍͑̃͒̚̕̚͝л̵̢̡̢̢̛̛̪̬̟̭̳͙̘̳̥̭͓̣͓̹̹͚̮̙̫̱̬̮̹̟̙̺̗̤͚͇͖̤̭͚̘̗͔͇̗͎̳̮̖̻͕͖̜̮̪͉̦̘͓͉̫̣̤̥̺̹͓̲̇͆͂͋̍͑̆͆̎̀͊̿͋̀̄͒̄̈́̎͐̐̊̽̒̎͒̉̏̇̇̋̓̈̐̾͑̃̈́͒͆̽̓̃̊̅̆̇̏͌̓͆̊͂̿͆̈̎̅̄͒̿̽̃́̔̈́̽̈̍͛̓͗̿̕̕͘͘̚̚̕͜͝͝͝͠͝ͅи̵̧̡̢̡͔̗̟͈͎̙̯̦̮͉̞̻̦̥̯͉̝̪̬̲̜͙̞̖̣̯̼͈̭̰̟̜͒́͑̑̉͒̀̄̃͊̽̐͒̅̍̐͊̓͂͋͛̊͒͂̓̎̈̈́̊͌͌̓̀̈́͐͒̈͒̑̎̌͆͗̽͗͐̎͌͒̉͂̈͑̐̂̚͘͘͜͝͝͠͝͝ͅ,̷̡̢̢̨̡̢̢̡̻̟̟̪̩͉̯̱̖͙̙͖̟̙̻̝͍̗̯͕̝͖͔͉̱̦͓̩̦̞̼͓̭̹̳̼̫̭͚͓̭̫̹̥̘̥̤̞̘͔͔͖͈̯̻̜̲̥̲̣͚͍̱͇̫͕̙͎̞̘̟̦͇͔͓͖̤̰̥͚͆̾͆̔̏̌̒̆͜͜͜ͅͅͅͅͅ ̶̢̨̨̧̡̨̡̨̧̛̛̯̻̤̜͕̗̲̝̠̝͔̻͉͇͉͙̳͇̰̗̜̦̝̹̬͎̙͕͓̮͓̣̯̫̭̝̜̞̥̖͔̝̹͕̲͍͉̙͉̞̙̘̙͙̟͈͓̫̪̹͛̏͆͂̈́̐̔̋̀̑͛̈́̎̔̀̌͒̑̈̋̏̒͋͋̈̅͆̉͌̐̎̈͗́̔̓̂͐̒͆̒͆̆̀̈͌̃̒̐̿̔̈̈́̈́̃͌̊̉̐̿̉̎̈́̽̆̂̿͒̄̈́̈̒̒͂̾̾̒̓͛̓͘̚̕̕̚͜͠͠ч̵̡̢̡̛̲̜̹͔̗͔̬̞̣̲͎̫̙͇̣̭̙̻̭̮̺̜̖̬̬͋͛͂̊̈́̿̎̄̾̈́͋̒̂̅̽̄͊̉̓̑̾̏̍͒͂̿̽̈́͌̇̾̀̊͐͂̈́̿͋͌̂̑͌͗͂̅̔̍̏͗̔̈́̊̇̈́̎̍̐͛̎̈́̈̃̓̅͂͗͆̋̍͑̕̕̚͜͝т̵̧̡̨̡̖̭̺͍̲̲̹͈̝̺̞̫̰͔̹̩̼̹͔͉͙͉͚̻̩̲͉̹͓͍̻͉̣͉͖̭͇̗̮̠̦̝͔̮͓̦̉͒̈́̐͘͜͜͝ͅͅо̵̧̨̨̨̨̡̨̨̛̳̯̫̲͙͈̖̥̟̘̟̬̣͙̩̘̖̝̬̘͍̻̩͕̟̬̘͎̭͖̩͓͕͈̰͈̫̜̖͌͌̉̓̈̂̏̏͒͆̌̂̆͑̾̿͑̓̐͋͂̆̐̿͊̎̀̔̓͊̿̏̃̏͒͌͂̑̋̋̔̚͘̕̚͘͝͝͝͠ͅ ̵̨̧̨̨̛̛̥̗̹̰̘͉̩̘̝̬̫̮͈̗̺͈̥̖̣̖͎̭̙̬̣̤̥̯͍̞̰͎̩̖̬̖̘͚̻͚̯͎̰͎̘̞͙̠̭̘̜͕̣̖̻͇̻̗̭̙̘͓̥͍̟̟̖͍̤͔͉̙̳̘͊̒̈́́̎̀̌̊̅̓̎̔̌̈́͗̐͊̈́̈́͛̈̒̈́̋̌̎͆̏̐͌͌̉̄̓̑͂̈́̔͐̾̀̈́̅̔͗͆̑̇̇̀͑͌̂͆̈́́͛͑̿̚̕̕̚̚̕̚̕͘͜͝͝͝͝͠͝ͅͅм̸̨̨̨̧̢̢̧̢̧̡̣̼̼͕̮̜͕̪͕̱̥̫͓̼̞̗͈̫̥͎͇͕̠̱̹̳̠̺̦̼̯̪̝̳̲͙̖͓͓̬̩̝̻̹̗̙̱̜̠̹̥͇͙̹̜̓̆̒̈́̌̓̅̈̏̌̔̒̋͐̾̅̊̉̋̾̅̽̒̂̇̚̕͜͜͜͠ͅо̸̢̛̖͎̹͓̹̻̘̥̾̒̄͂̃̉̒̓̐̈́̈̄̈́̆͊̌̌̑̓́̐̍͂͑̉̊̍͛̏̃̒̕͘̕̕͠͝͠͠͝͠͝͠ͅͅж̸̨̧̨̢̡̨̧̨̢̧̨͕̹̣̤͔͉͕̥̭͉͚̦̙̰̗͇̯͚̘̣̝̮̤͉̠̬̗̺̼̦͓̠̞̠̠͈̯̻͎̲͎̤̝̳̪̫̜͖͎̣̝̠͍̜̩͎̺͖̩̘͕͓̙̳̩̤̜͚͇̲̹̗̣͙͎̙̟̬̖͔̻̘͈̻̩̰͍͍̻̬̖̺̗͐͂͆͋̈́̓͆̈́̚̚̕ͅͅͅе̵̡̯͍̭̞̬͈̥̰̝̬͖̱̘̜̫͔̭͙̰̦̖͇̐͠ͅт̵̨̨̛͎̞͎̥̫̭̣̯̰͎̯͇̼͙̠͖͍̩̝̰̼͎͍͈͖̼͓̗͈̼͕̗̘̦̟̳̰̮͔͔͈̥͚̫̞̳̻̱̮̱͓̜͔͈̤̖̭͚̳̫̓̽̆̾͗͐̐̃͗͂̑̄̋͋̎̍̀̓̓̿̃̕̕͜͜͠͝ͅе̴̨̡̡̢̧̡̧̛̦̼̖͍̖̦̥̦̮͈͉̪̝̮̩͚̝̖̠̻̩͕͖̤̦͉̯͔̻͈̩͍̱̞̜̲͓̭̦͍̯͚̟̩̱̥͍̟̞͕͚̗̭͍̗̻̦̥͉̘̩͈̘̱̰̪͆̄͂̌̈́͂͒́̑͗͗̃̓̈́̓̇̽͛̒̽̇̽̈͐̒̆͒̅̈́͆̈́͗̂̐̽̋͑͒͋̍̒̐̉͂̆͋̓͋̐̔̅̑͂͑͊̒̆̀̎̇̉̓̂͌̈́̋̋̈́͐̏̔̍̄̐̐̑͊͆̈͛̑͑̎͗̉̄̿̈́̈́̃́̃̈́͘̕͘͘̕͜͜͝͠͝͠͝͠͠͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̷̡̧̨̧̛̯̩͈͎̟͚͎̖̥͎̖̩̱̬͔̖̻̣̗͖͍͇̯͈̩̳̻̫̺͎̖̙̝̤̘̖̗̺͈̦̪͇͇̳̻͙̟̺͎̩̞̗̞̫̮̳̣̻͎̯̘͖͒͌̿͒̈́͗͗̓̇̽͛͂̆͌̅̎͂̀̅͘͜͜͜͠͝ͅͅͅͅͅс̶̢̧̨̨̧̡̢̨̨̢̨̖̮̙̬̖̹̼̗͓̥̪͍͙͉̤͓̳͚̱̩̟̞̮͓̖͓͎̤̖̜͍̜͎͎̖̘̠͖͈̺̟̙͎͉̲̦̻̲͕̫͙̯͉͔̯̮̤̻̟̯̮͚͇̹̹̯̬̹̻̼͇͎̤̻͍̲͕̺̜̟̣͍͇̭͈͖̜͇͓̬̣̹̮͈͍͈̠̓̒͑̊̑̅̀͛̊͌̇̒̀̓̓̂̔̏͂̾͂̑̄̂͂̐͛̌̌̈́́͂̈́̄̓̅͐͂̐͌̏̉̋̅͒͋̌̐̐̌̋͋̄̿̂͛̀͆̈̐́́̒͌̈́͛̉̈́̃̇͆͆̂͒̋̿̊͘̕̕̕̕̚̕̚̚̕͘͜͜͜͝͝͝͠ͅб̷̢̢̡̧̧̢̨̪̩͉̹̬͙̭͓̥̣̞͇̼̫͇̙̺͉͉̠͚͙͕̗͚̟̮̲̻̩͙̬̦͔̦͔̹͉̬̟͔̲̘͎͚̼̝͚̗͓̳̺̖̯̞́̊̈̍̊͊̓͊̃̓̍̇͗͗͌̈́͋͑͂͊̈́̈́͑͋̉͗͒̂̍̾͛̍͒̌͆͐̿̒͆͂̿̀͂̂̍̃͆̌̓̚͘͘̚͘͘͠͝͠ͅͅе̴̢̨̡̨̛̻̜͓͔̮̟̫̺̘͓̳͓̳͈̘͚̙̻̝̩̪̲̭͈̟̰̯͎̩͕͍͇̰̥͙̩͓̪̬̦͕͇͖̘̪̮̰̼̝̫͚̲̘̞̻̫͇̩̦̖̯̞̗̱̪̦͂̍͛̏͊̃̉͌͒̎̓̔̉͛̾͐͌́̇̔̾͛̅̇̉͘̕͘͜͜͜͝ͅͅͅͅж̸̨̢̡̛̛̛̯̫̬͈̺̯͖͚̳̣̪̞͚̖̼̙̗̲̀̓́̈̾̋̃͆̀̓̆̄̂̅̏̓́̉͛̓͒͂̿̒̈́̃͌̈̿̐̑̒̆̈́̈̽̇̓͐͑̂̈́̓͂̆̄̊̊̒̿̽̈͋͌̓̃͗͗͆̇̇̆̓́͐̀̈́̚̕̕̕͘͘͜͝͠͝͝͝͝ӓ̴̨̡̡̨̨̡̡̧̨̧̨̢̢̨̢̢̛̛̖̳̖̼̤̼͎̮̲̮͈͍̪̣̝͚̺̮̳͓͙̝͍̘̜̖̪͎͔͓̥̦̮̖̥̱̻̦̤̱͇̬͍̣͍̻̭̤̺̫͎̝̫̥̦͙̣̲̘̬͖̣̲̮͚̗̠̖̺̭͉̼̥̩̭̲̜͍̹̺̳̻̦̱̘͙̻̖͎̙̦̭̭͔́̊͋̐͗́̎̏̈́̅͂́̈͂̿̊̀̓͛͛̾͋͊̋̉̈̃͛̈́͑̈́̋͗͛̒̿̆̄͐̈́̕̕̕̕͘̚͘͜͜͠͝͠ͅͅͅт̷̡̧̧̧̧̨̛̛̦̫̥̩̻̼̝̯̣̬̮̲̬̖͚͕̳͓̙̹͈̼̻̻̳͉̝̦͖̺̪̲͙̻͉̖̥̬̻̥̝͈̦͉̝̤̖̻̣̠̜̮̩͚̭͇͓̳̦̻̭̩̝̻̻̙͔̖̖̮̖̞̖͙̭̟͎̭͚̭̭̬̲̝̱͍̺͍̮̮̜̳͚̮̘͈̪̥̦͙͙̯̠͒̈̿̒̾̎͒́̂̓̎̔̎͂͆͂͌̄͊̍̄͘͘͜͜͜͜͜͝ͅͅь̶̨̢̡̨̧̢͓̬̘̬̞͓̞͚̠͉̰̫̞̪̝̤̹̳̘͙͕̭͔͔̺̳̖̦͙̱͚̯̟̣̟̯͉̺̟͓̼̭̘͎̝̻͖͉̞̺͇̙̝̫̲̺̱̫͖̯̺̖͈̳̰̝̣̟̭̪̭̹͔̥̜̺͉͍̻̰͔̤̭̽̇͂̿̉̈́̿̔̔̑̎̆͌̆̋̎͂̍̀̒͂̅͛̋̓̒̔̾̍̒̆̑̓̃͐̏̀͗͒̈́̏̂̄͛͘͘͘̕͜͜͝͠͝ͅͅ?̸̨̧̡͖̮̗̣͚̜̙̫̖̰͕͙̫̱̮̪̣̗̺͕͎̖̠̗̯͇͖̟͉͕̣̼͍̰͎̥̖̫͓̳̠̞̲͕̣̣̠̝̲̫̤͔̘̝͗͒͌̔̃͗̋̀̏̈̽̐̐̓̕͜͝͠

      “Fuck, fuck! Bell-”

Hundreds of glistening pieces laid at your legs, most of which were stained by crimson liquid on them. 

You noticed how your arms and hand had those flickers of glistening light. 

“Bell.”

They were really beautiful. 

...But where was the red door?

You had to find the red bunker door.

Because, you had a job to do . 

Yet as you tried to get to your feet-to get to the bunker-your vision went to black as you felt a warm pressure at your waist, holding you back. 

No, no, no -

“ Bell, listen to me.” You froze. You could hear the voice right beside your ear. It was a warmth brushing against your ear. And you noticed the feel of leather against your eyes as the hand covered your eyes. 

The voice was...familiar. 

The voice was deep, steadfast, and assured like it just  knew ...

And there was something nagging at you in the back of your mind that you just had to  listen.

“I need you to relax and focus, Bell.” 

You stopped your movements to get free. 

“You were working alone in the safehouse, not in the Bunker. Do you remember the tapes, Bell?” 

The tapes...they were...here. 

You just knew . 

So you nodded. 

“Yes, good, now you broke the mirror but you’re okay. Listen to me, Bell.  You’re okay.”

It was only after those words were said that you registered the way the world trembled and shook beneath you.

(And it was only later that you realized you were the one trembling.) 

__________________________________________________________

You awakened to the feeling of cloth against your legs and arms and to the familiar smell of nicotine and smoke.

“Adler?” you asked quietly, wincing from the bright fluorescent lights right above your head.

Your head felt like it was hit by a 2 by 4-

As you brought an arm up to shield your eyes from the light, you noticed the white gauze covering your arm. 

What-

“You’re awake.” you glanced over to your side, seeing Adler there with his signature shades on and smoking cigarette. You noticed the surgical tools on the tray beside him. 

You were in the makeshift infirmary of the safehouse...

“What happened?” you said, resisting the urge to ask if Adler planned on sticking needles into your brain yet again. At this point, you wouldn’t be complaining...

“You broke the mirror.”

Shit.

No, no, no he couldn’t find out, not like this-

“I can explain-” you started only for your words to die in your throat as you saw Adler lean forward in his chair. 

“Look, Mason and Woods got their shit together-”

You winced, bracing yourself for the inevitable. You knew what he was going to say. 

  о̵̡̛̤͎̰̝̂̉̆̿̌͒͂̔̎͛̐̈̔͆̔̐̽́̈́̂̑̈͘͝͝͝н̶͚̲̹̼͎̐̒͜и̷͕͔̲͙̼̠̮͙̝̒̂̈͌̾̄͂̄̊͋͑͋̄̇̽̈͋̒̌̆̐͘ ̷̡̡̢̢̛̛̩͓̥̠̲͓̟̤̠͈͉̣̠̹̗̦̥͓̙̤̞̜͐͐͐̍͊̓͌̀̌͗͛̕̚͜͜с̷̛̛̬̖͇͓̝̰̱̱̗͉̺͖͈̟͇̈́̋̈̿͂̆̂́̽̓̉͐̊̕͜͜͠͝͝͝͝͝ͅо̶̧̧̡̰̝̗̭͍̩͉̹̦͈͉̪̝͍̼̬͕̯͕͕͖̳̯̤̆̔̅̋̉͘͜ͅб̴̧̛̰̥̼͓̩̯̯̺͔̟̲̘͒͗̋͋и̴̛͕̝̋̈́̂̃̐̽̒̓͗̎͂р̶̡̡̨̡̛̞̦̣̲̯̥̙͇̦̤̩̗̩̳̫̙̲̗͗̏̍̋̐̽̇̍̃̅̔̈́͐̇̎͛̍͗͋̎̇͛͌̌͘а̵̢̛̟͕̟̯̺͙̬̣͈͓̺̠͎̝̝͚̀͌͑͗͂̍̈͐̑̈́͊͆͂͋̏̿͘͝͝͠͝ю̶̡̛͓̺̹̼͙̟̣̫̺̜̤̣̯̫͓̼͎͔͈̼͎͚͓̞̜̼̖̔́̄͌͛̌̾͆̉̍̾̂͐̔̿̌̉̆̿̇͛̈́̈̕̕ͅт̷̧̛̦͉͔̳͔̠̥͉̺̈́̌͌̑̈̓͑͑͌̃̽͆̄̾̉̄͆̅͋̕͠͝с̵̡̧̧̭̤̞̤̘̗̰͆̊̈́̓̒͒̆͂̋̓͘̕͝я̵̧̨̧̨̧̢̩͓̜̘̲̦̙̙̫̪̳̬̺͉̮̹̳͔̍̉̐̔̀̓͐̀͜͜͠͝ ̷̗̥̅̈́̒̔̿̍̑̌̽̒̂͐͂͐͋̌̓̐͆̉̇̊͛̋͝б̶̧̡͇̟̫͉͕̳͈̜̤̦͍̦͚̩̭̈́͆̈́͐̔̿͛͑̄̂͗͛̈́͒̋̆̎̄̏̒̑͘͘͘͜͝͠р̴̢̢̢̛̙͉̦̜̞̲̬̳̪͔͖̹̜͕̣̝̹̣̲͔̃́̈̒͜͜ͅо̶̬̰͍̂͛̾̈͐̆͜͠с̴̢̪̝͎̮̫͖̺͈̬͔̥̹̠̤̦͇̄͆̆͐̔̿͐̌̋̓̑̓̈̌̅͘͝и̴̢̪̞͈̹̬̮̥̣͇̦͍̜̥̔̈́̍̍ͅт̵̛̣̰͙̞͖̯̩̙͓͓͍̫̖̼̙̻̟̦͉͕̪̿͌͋͂̀͒̓̐̈͐̕̕̚͝ь̵̢͙̝̪̟̦̜͕͚̻̹͇̼͖͌͛̆̏̀̇̔̂̉̋́̿̒̊͌͛̆̓̽̍̉̕͜ ̷̲̍͒̋̂̔̄͆́̄͑̃̓͛̆́̏͒̂̐͗̕͘̕͝͝т̸̨̡̼͎̘͚̱̱̼̗̼̥͇̭̈́͛̿̉͛̔̊̏̈́͊͛̃́̿̕͝е̶̡̛̛͈͈̖̦̳̻̘̯̣͍̠͓̰̼̯̻̘̲͇͙͔̲̱͕̪̪͎͑͌̊͐͂̓̏̂̓̔̀̈́͐̀̔̈́̆̚͘͜͝͠͠б̶̨̢͎͇̝̜̘͉̖͈̠̪̪̱̟͚͙̖͕̫̖͚̠̥̅̋̇̈́̄͗̄̎̚͜͜͠ͅя̶̝̟̟͓̗̹̠̹̭͓̯̤͇̿̍̎͗̀̈́̊̅͛̄̃̓͗̽̂̉̕͝

They’re going to abandon you. 

 “-and so can you.” he finished. 

...wait, what?

“But they’re different. I don’t have-” you started only to stop. You...you didn’t have anyone. At least, they had each other, “...I don’t have anyone.” 

Adler only took a drag of his cigarette before sighing with the smoke curling into the air, “I didn’t realize I had to spell this shit out for you.”

Okay…?

“The CIA is responsible for you. So just like with my ex-wife’s dog, I’m responsible for you.”

Being compared to Adler’s dog was...interesting. But you sure as hell weren’t complaining. 

In other words, you got to stay.

(And you had someone even if that someone did compare you to his dog of all things.) 

And somehow in that moment even though you could still hear static, that was enough.

________________________________________________________________

Author’s Note: I just filled out my first request!!! I really had a lot of fun writing out this fill for the request! This is my first time writing whump (if this counts as that) and I don't think I did a completely terrible job? Maybe, it's edgy with the glitch text font but I chose that to show the static. I hope the anon who requested this was okay with how this turned out! 

Speaking of that, it was fun to experiment with the glitch text to mimic and show the static over the radio that Bell hears. Anyways, I hope Adler didn't come across as OOC. I actually tried my best to parallel the MK Ultra mission where Adler as a narrator walks Bell through Vietnam. 

On a side note, I'm taking requests on both tumblr and ao3 for Adler/Fem!Bell as well as interactions between Belikov & Bell and Lazar & Bell cause they're all so fun to write out. That and I could honestly use the practice to improve my writing which is still really rusty. So if anyone is okay with my writing and has any AU ideas, song lyrics, prompts, or dialogue prompts they want me to write out (as long as it is not nsfw), feel free to ask me on here. I love to fill out requests!!!

Well, thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The Russian translations (they come from Google Translate so I don't think they're going to be correct. So apologies in advance to any Russian speakers here) are right down below here....

Russian translations (in order they appear): 1: Damaged goods. 2: they will abandon you 3: Bell, Bell, Bell 4: Bell, Bell, Bell 5: My most loyal one 6: Look up. 7: Did you really think you could run away?

[trashiewrites]

Hello Nurse~

(Russell Adler x F!Reader)

Short debrief: Adler is injured and meets a lovely nurse who he has indeed caught his attention.

Term dictionary:

(Y/n)- your name

(H/c)- hair color

(H/l)- Haigh length

(S/t)- skin tone

Words:1407

Russell held his arm as the chopper lowered into the base. Sims stood next to him with a concerned look for his fighting buddy. "Hey Adler, need help getting to the meds?"

"Don't worry Sims, I'll make it." He hopped out his chopper seat with a bit of a wince. "Its not that bad" Sims frowned his brow as he aswell left the heli.

"You know what? You do you Adler! But you know don't come bitching when you get hurt again." Sims huffed as he grabbed his weapon and began to leave. 

"I am the last person to bitch Sims. You should know that you sour nutbag." He slowly salutes, his face twitches as the stinging in his arm increased.

"Yeah, sure, now go to the meds!" Adler slowly let down his arm and walked casually.  As he walked many soilders greeted him. Either with a verbal 'commander' of even just a salute.  Honestly, especially with his arm the way it was, the greeting were rather exhausting. 

As he moved into the medical tent mainly staying to the back, he looked at all the men who laid on the beds. Some were bloody messes, others looked dead. From a side room a younger nurse came out handing another nurse a serum and a needle. "Don't worry sir, it will all be okay!" Her voice was soft and encouraging. She looked up to see Adler standing there. "Oh my! Pardon me sir, do you need medical?" She walked up to him in a hurry placing a hand upon his good shoulder and his back.

"Yeah, fucked up my arm in the field I need to know what's up." She nodded as she leads him to an empty bed.

"Of course! Do you mind if I can get a hold of your bad arm?" He nodded in response, extended his arm to the nurse. He took the time to notice her features. (H/l) (h/c) hair that complimented her (s/t) skin. "What kind of pain have you've been feeling sir?" He groaned quietly as she pressed the sides of his arm for fractures. "Sorry..." she verbally noted.

"Well since I got back it's been mainly a stinging pain." Adler relaxed again and decided to ask her some questions. "You must be a new nurse down here, I dont remeber ever seeing a pretty face like yours."

"I am recently new, if that counts. Been here for a week now" she giggles softly and she placed his arm back down, "so from how I see it, you grazed the muscle and that may be the stinging pain. You also may have a bone fracture."

"Could be worse in a shithole like this place" Adler shrugged his shoulders, "so miss, what's your name?"

"Oh, did I never say it?" She looked up at him. He shook his head in response, "ah, well excuse my manners. I'm nurse (y/n). Its my honor to help you feel better!" Adler wasn't sure if his mind was also fucked but when she  smiled she seemed to just glow.

"Does anyone tell you how pretty your smile is?" He cracks a small smile. She chuckles, covering her cheeks with her hand.

"O-oh thank you! P-pardon me, I got to grab the supplies Mr.?"

"Adler."

"Mr. Adler" she stood straight turned around and walked to the back. Russell stared at the door she entered for a second or two until he hear the bed next to him creak.  It was a face hes seen around base, only knew his name.

"You know commander, they tell her that everyday.  She hears it a million times but she never reacts like that," the man pulled a pack of cigs from his pocket. Pulled one out for himself then leaned the box towards Adler. As much as he would like one, he politely refused.

"You say so Corporal... Wells, right?" The soilder nods as he swiftly closed the pack of cig. Placing them back at the safety of his pocket and quickly let the flame.

"I ain't no talker but every single guy in base seems to likes her." Wells raised his brows as he took a breath of his cig. "I mean she is cute, but I'm happily married."

"Oh Mr.Wells! You seem to be doing better" the nurse smiles as she walks back with a small bucket of supplies. He moved his cig and exhaled

"Thanks to you nurse." Wells smiled as he took another breath of his cigarette. She placed the supplies upon the side table.

"It's really no problem! But if you are feeling okay now Mr.Wells, I'd have to ask you to leave the med tent" Well silently nodded his head and stood up. Saluted to Adler as well as a wink. Adler only nodded back, and he walked off without another word. "Now let's patch up those wounds Mr.Adler."

"What made you sign up for this hellish war?" Adler extended his arm out again. She held it gently yet she pondered the question. The cruel silence was almost enough to drive him mad. Yet the small just of the outdoor breeze seeped into the tent, slightly blowing the (hc) locks of her hair.

"Well," she grabbed a small rag as well rubbing alcohol, "I was just exiting nurse school by the time the war started. And like any other, I felt like I should use my services to help the soilders some home." Russell was a bit surprised at the notion. Women have the chance to be cozy and stay where it's safe. Alot of nurse happen to be are either here for the pay or were forced into it by their father or even husband. Not to say there isn't anyone else just here to actually be here, yet just a merry few. "This might sting." With that his train of thought ended as he clutched the bed from the stinging pain. 

"Ah, Fuck. That hurt like a bitch

." Adler chuckled. "Mind kissing it better?" The two quietly laugh. (Y/n) actually having to cover her mouth to not laugh too loud. 

"How about if I kiss you on the lips? Would that make it feel better?" Her eyes seemed to narrow as she cheekily smiled. Wrapping the arm wounds up with bandages.

"What's stopping you?" He leaned closer, his voice was deep and quiet. A sly grin stretched upon his face. She looked up to be only inches away from eachother. It was incredibly tempting to her to say the least. He just looked so good, even if she couldnt see his eyes. The glasses only made him seem more mysterious.

"If got a job to do, Mr.Adler." she grinned as she pushed him away from the bridge of his nose.  Turning to her side to get the materials for a splint. It was mainly only small talk from here. Adler barely hid what rejection made him slightly bothered. As she tied up the last bits of it she grinned. "You know maybe we could have that kiss arranged." She reached to her side to grab the wrap she had to put on him. Yet as she leaned in to tie it around the neck. She leaned closely into his ear "meet me after sundown on the side of the med tent" she quickly pecked his cheek and finished tying the wrap, she sat back down.

Adler had his mouth slightly agape. Surely he didnt expect such a intimate invitation but fuck yeah he was more than willing to take it. He held a large grin, ear to ear.  "Invitation accepted."

"Good, now that all I can do with your injuries Mr.Adler. you'll be out for a week at least. you can rest for a bit or leave the tent." She returned to her professional self.

"I'll be off then. Ill see you around nurse."  Adler stood up and began to walk towards the tent exit.

"Of course you will!" She qleefully whispered  as he walked past her. Adler excited out the tent, stood over to the side for a minute to process all that happened. She flooded his mind, that invitation seemed to be the only important thing in his head he could remeber.

"Huh, I'd fucking call her a witch doctor at this point huh." He chuckled to himself. Red rose to his cheeks. "What ever this spell is I guess it feels nice."

[snowgoldwaylon]

Hey guys! So as you guys know, I have a Wattpad. To show you some of my fanfic I'm going to share a story I wrote about a month ago so you all can get a taste of my work before you request! Enjoy! My Wattpad is @SnowGoldWaylon

Hello all my beautiful readers, thanks for coming back and reading my fics. This request came from AuthorHNM, this amazing person and ollie is keeping this book alive. Please send more requests, I love writing!

TW: Strong language, pregnancy, adult themes.

Running through the woods wasn't always cracked up to what it's supposed to be. Especially these past couple of months. You were so sore, and quite emotional recently.

You took comfort in your husband, Russell Adler. You and him have worked together for many years in the CIA team as the best duo there. Adler always took care of you, and you always took care of him.

Being the perfect CIA couple was a job only few could handle. Adler loved you with everything he was, and he never wanted to put you into any kind of danger. But he had recently seen a change in you and he was worried.

After running around the mountains of the Ukraine, you finally had fallen to your knees, pulled your hair back and vomited on the other side of the tree. While retching, you felt a hand on your back and another grab your hair for you.

You turned and saw your worried husband. He had really gotten worried now. This is the first time this had happened. He handed you a canteen, and you swished out your mouth.

"Hey Frank, go ahead and take them to the safe house. We'll be there shortly!" Adler ordered. Woods nodded, and led everyone off, leaving you both alone.

"Sweetheart, I'm so worried about you...Will you please get checked out? You haven't been right at all. And I don't want you to be uncomfortable." Adler pleaded.

You stood up, fixing your hair and wiping your mouth. You didn't want anyone to worry about you.

"Russ, I'll be fine, okay babe? I'll get checked out when we return to base, but we have a mission." You spoke, running a hand over his scars.

He sighed and layed his forehead to yours.

"Okay, I love you. I just want you to be okay...." He said.

You gave him a kiss and nodded.

"I'll be fine Russ. I promise. Now let's go, I'm so hungry." You laughed.

He laughed with you and walked a few miles before reaching the safe house. You practically fell through the door, unlaced your boots and flopped onto the bed. You were out like a light.

*Back at main base*

You sat on the table of the medic, waiting for a few results. She had drawn your blood, ordered labs, and even had you take a pregnancy test. You didn't think you were pregnant but now that it got you thinking, you and Adler had gotten cozy a few months ago.....

You sat there, thinking about how he'd react. It all clicked, sore breasts, strange appetite, gaining weight, and hair thinning. Maybe.....You were pregnant.

The nurse knocked on the door.

"Come in!" You shouted.

She stepped in with paperwork in her hand, and a big smile on her face.

"Mrs. Adler, I have some wonderful news for you! So, all your labs came back perfect, a clean bill of health!" She spoke with joy.

"And from urine and blood tests, I have confirmed a positive id on 2 months of pregnancy. Congratulations!" The nurse exclaimed with joy.

This brought tears to your eyes, you were going to a mom! But, this also sparked fear in you. You weren't sure how Adler was going to react when you told him that you were pregnant.

He wasn't done with hunting Perseus yet, so taking time off or retiring wasn't gonna cut it for him.....You were scared.

You looked up at the nurse, and smiled despite the fear. You shook her hand, and smiled big.

"Thank you so much, Gemma. I appreciate all you done for me. Now I just need to tell my husband the good news!" You said.

She smiled, picking up her clipboard, hand on the door handle.

"Well tell Doc we all said congratulations too. We look forward to seeing you both and your baby!" Gemma spoke, exiting the room.

You got dressed and discharged. You knew now you had to tell Russell what was going on, this baby would be coming faster than you expected after all. You exited the labyrinth of the hospital, and walked towards the missile base.

That's when you saw the whole team sitting out by the garden, discussing the next move in the plan. You joined the group, and sat down on Russell's lap.

"Hey handsome." You spoke, kissing his cheek.

He smiled and wrapped his arm around you, his hand on your outer thigh.

"Hey beautiful, missed you. How did your appointment go?" He gave you a sweet kiss.

Woods, Park, and Sims all gleamed at you both. Park closed her book with a smile, and Frank shot you a wink.

"Hey guys, do you mind if I talk to Russ alone for a second? I have some stuff to tell him." You said politely.

Adler looked down at you in his lap with concern. Did he do something wrong? Were you sick? His head was spinning.

The team nodded, packed up their things and went inside to give you both privacy. You looked back at Adled with a scared look.

His gaze dropped to you, and he took off his sunglasses. Now you knew things were serious when the glasses came off.

"Y/N, are you okay? Did something happen at the doctors?" Adler questioned with fear. He was so worried about you.

You looked into his eyes, and grabbed his hand. It was now or never.

"Russell, I'm pregnant." You quickly rushed out.

His pupils dilated, and locked onto you. You were really pregnant with his baby, you were going to be parents!

Tears filled his eyes, and he hugged you close.

"We're gonna be parents Y/N! I've always wanted to be a dad!!" He exclaimed.

You smiled and hugged back, giving a small kiss.

"I'm so glad. I love you, Russell Adler." You spoke.

He smiled and held your face.

"And I love you, Y/N Adler."

[animefreak1145]

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

Previous Next

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

Chapter Summary:

Pretending and being numb is the key.

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

Cold War Reset AU| Undertale Reset AU

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

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

“Bell”

Second Life

23:09 | February 25, 1981

CIA SAFEHOUSE E9, “DIE LANDEBAHN”

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

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

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

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

You can’t mess up.

A shot rings. And a heart splinters.

“It was never personal.”

You really can’t.

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

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

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

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

You blinked, giving Park a confused look.

“Advice?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where am I?”

“Who am I?”

“What is happening?”

“Why can’t you remember?”

“D o  y o u  h e a r  i t ? ”

“Who is Perseus?”

“Tell me who I am!”

Blood forms the words, as if with a finger.

“They want to kill you.”

“Make it stop.”

“MK”

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

Pain

           Pain          Pain              боль

                    боль

   Pain                                         Pain

              боль

Pain        Pain                   Pain

          Pain         Pain    Pain                

боль                                                              боль

It hurts.

GlockeGlockeGlockeG̷̟̩͙̏͌ḽ̸̊̿o̵̦̓͝c̵̭̯̊́ḱ̷̛̼͌͊e—

You turned away back to your papers, jaw tight.

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

Park frowned delicately, lowering her mug.

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

No. You have to be useful.

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

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

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

“We got a job to do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Look at him, pup.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What a curse indeed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stopped, looking at Park and her irritated expression.

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

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

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

You’ll be alone together with him again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Puppets don’t control the puppeteer.

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

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

Good dogs come when they listen.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯  ◁ ◁ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s what you’re saying!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nope.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And the civvies?” Larson asked.

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

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

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

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

Adler turned his head over his shoulder, expression questioning.

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

“Don’t expect you to, sir.”

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

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

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

“Thanks,” you said to him softly.

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

Such a hard ass.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ▷ ▷ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s a small price to pay.”

What does that make you?

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

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

“It’s nothing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At your silence, he glanced at you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because he couldn’t be.

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

What are you, Russell Adler?

Perhaps he is Zeus himself.

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

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

They both also have a habit of hurting women.

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

Good pups stay in their place.

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

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

“About?”

You didn’t say anything.

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

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

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

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

They didn’t speak the rest of the ride.

Foolish dog should mind their eyes.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ▷ ▷ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

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

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

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

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

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

If only that box stayed close.

Zeus always did like to confuse.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ◁ ◁ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

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

“Having trouble?”

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

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

Adler hummed idly, taking note of your words.

“Perhaps you need a sort of incentive.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Adler’s expression shadowed as he nodded once.

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

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

You hated when he did that blasted rhyme!

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

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

Adler rose both his brows now.

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure got talent, kid.”

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

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

“You first.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Adler was silent. He never answered.

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

You understood him the best.

Only monsters can see one another, after all.

✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ▌▌✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯ ✯

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re trapped.

.

.

.

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

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

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

Tags:

@quizzyisdone @zulema117-blog @efingart  @pinkpinkboota @nuclear-boston @lifeisthemoments @jintana-critical @eclectriccanoeseven @hurricanesyd-blog @parkeepingparker @moonchild365-blog @aurora-windu @imperfectophelia @dvesinthewind @holy-crap-i-am-russlle-adler @i-will-give-you-love @adlerboi @preciouslilcreature @saynotohydra @mayaibnlaahad @smokeywhalee @0shuni0-blog @multi-fandom-imagine @littlepotatowizard  @direwolfspostsrandomshit @darlingor @collinnmckinley @kayalect @nikkibell1937 @fuzzybonkeggsopera @ppfedd @bro0kebxrter @actuallyilya @stayb1ack @frankwoodsmalewife @tr1ppylady @danjer

[samatedeansbroccoli]

Belikov’s Fiery Rage

Part of Chapter 7 of my fic, Adler’s Little Fish, which you can read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28289562/chapters/71523792

Excerpt:

She snatched up the banknote, then held it up to show Uncle Russell. "Dyadya, look! I'm rich!"

He smiled upon seeing it. "Look at you! All the boys will be chasing you for your money."

"No they won't! I'm gonna give it to girls only because boys stink!"

"Is that so? Do I stink?"

"No! You're one of the girls, too!"

"I am?

"Yeah!"

"So can I have the money?"

"No!"

[avengers-hamiltrash]

Fandoms I Write For

This list will probably get longer over time. I mainly write ships.

Bolded is my main fandom(s).

Avengers 

The Irregulars

Newsies

[senfena]

Cold War: Remedy, Chapter 6

A/N: Woo, we're here! I've been looking forward to writing this chapter for a while c:

January 19, 1984

"Hey Russell,

It's been a couple years since I wrote a letter to you. I've been writing in another journal regularly, but for some reason I want to address this one to you specifically. 

Where to start...my life is completely different. I live with Park in her flat in Fulham, and I work at a record store nearby, which I'm writing to you from right now actually. It's pretty cold and rainy right now, and business is pretty slow, so I figured I'd write to you. My coworkers are mostly pretty cool, aside from my manager, the Tory bastard. But they all call me Bell at least, there's something to be thankful for. 

I'll be honest...I have thought of using Sariya from time to time. But every time I think of doing that, it just feels wrong. It never belonged to me, the real me, in the first place. And why would I even want to use the name of some terrorist asshole who wanted to blow up half of Europe? Whoever Sariya is, she's not still inside me...is she? For both our sakes, I hope you completely eradicated her.

I get the sense that you did, which is actually a part of the brainwashing I don't mind. I...this sounds so weird to write down, but, I miss you, somehow. I miss you slapping my hand away whenever I went to touch the dial on your radio, or whenever you'd bring me fresh coffee late at night when I was burning myself out, working on cracking that floppy disk and the coded messages. Or you offering me one of your cigarettes whenever you went to smoke one, and you'd light it with your fancy ass lighter, and we'd just stand there smoking together. I still have that lighter, by the way. I try not to smoke anymore, so now it's just more of a charm, really. 

I'm still pissed at you though. Seriously, shooting me after I gave you the key to saving Europe, after all we went through together? Dick move. I don't know if I can ever forgive you for that. But mostly...I just try to forget that that happened, focus on everything that was good about us...or, back then. I guess hate isn't the most accurate word. But I really, really, really don't like you. 

I hope I never see you again,

Bell."

You folded up the letter neatly and put it in your back right pocket. Straightening out your body from it's hunched posture and stretching your arms, you looked all around the store. Still no customers. Not that you minded, it was nice having some peace and quiet. You just wished that you weren't the only employee on the clock, aside from Aiden, your manager, so you weren't dying of boredom on your own. 

"Hey, Bell!" Aiden called to you from the back office. "Can you come back here, please?" You wordlessly started making your way over. Normally he'd want some kind of audible response, but you were more of the silent compliant type, whatever was asked of you, you did, but mostly without saying a word. It took some time, but he'd gotten accustomed to it. You poked your head into the office. "Yeah, Aiden?" He looked up from his accounts and spreadsheets scattered all across his desk. "Hey, we're too slow and I gotta cut down on labor, you can go ahead on home." He instructed you, half focused on you and half focused on his work. "I'm almost done with accounts and I can close the store on my own afterwards, won't take long" "Alright, thanks Aiden!" You cheerfully waved bye as you went to clock out. "Yep, stay safe!" "Will do!" You hollered back to each other as you punched out, grabbed your coat, and scurried out the door in the freezing rain. 

___________

You unlocked the front door of the flat, practically sprinting in. Your body shivered as you took off your coat and put it on the rack. "Welcome home, Bell!" Park greeted you from the kitchen, hidden from your sight. "Thanks!" You called back as you pulled off your shoes and placed them near the front door. "Could you come in here, please?" She questioned you. Huh, you wondered what she wanted to talk to you about. "Yeah, sure thing." Curious, you strolled into the kitchen and saw Park sitting at the table, mug in hand. Someone else was at the table too, facing away from you. "Hey, what's going…" You took a closer look at the second person. Bald. White dress shirt with black suit pants. Sunglasses. Wait, was that…?

As if on cue, Hudson turned his head to look at you, holding his cup of tea and raising it to you in greeting. "How've you been, Bell?" He asked you, seemingly looking past the slack jawed expression on your face. Looking him dead in the eye, your mind started to race. He wouldn't be here unless he needed something. Something that you didn't owe him anymore. "Screw that." You shook your head and turned to walk to the front door, but before you got the chance to take two steps; "Bell, please, it's incredibly important that you at least listen to what he has to say." Park stood and insisted you, stopping you in your tracks.

You stood there for a moment, simply staring at the floor and breathing in and out sharply. "Park let you live here for the last 3 years, you can make it through this for her". You declared to yourself in your head. Slowly turning around, you trudged to the table and took the seat opposite from Hudson, as Park sat back down next to you. "I'll keep this brief." Hudson began. "Two months ago, Perseus agents covertly infiltrated the Cheyenne Mountain Complex. They attempted to launch a nuclear warhead being used as part of a training simulation. We were able to abort it, but that was far too close for comfort." 

"Sounds like a big problem. So why are you here, instead of solving it, out there?" You shot at Hudson, hoping that he'd take the hint to leave. He leaned in closer to you. "Bell, you're the reason that we even managed to come close to capturing Perseus, and did manage to stop his plan to destroy Europe." He appealed to you. You looked down at the table, trying to not show him any vulnerability. "I know what our agreement was, and whatever you say here, I'll honor that. But Perseus is back on the grid, and unless we take every measurement to stop him, who knows how many innocent people could die." That got you to raise your head, looking him in the eyes again. He took off his sunglasses, folding and placing them on the table. "We need you back, Bell."

You knew that he was right. Whether or not Adler had implanted that part of your personality in you, you were never gonna stand by and let civilians die while you did nothing. Still, you had to know something. "Just tell me; is he gonna be there?" You asked Hudson, already knowing the answer before he told you. He paused before answering. "Of course." You grimaced. Park put a hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you.

Sitting there in silence for a minute or two, you stared down at the table, pretending to think. Finally, you took a deep inhale as you turned your head up to stare at the ceiling, exhaling as your head came back down, eyes focusing on Hudson. "You promise that after this, it's over?" You begrudged to ask him. He gave a swift nod. You sat there in thought for a minute longer. "Okay." You conceded. He nodded his head. "Alright, I'll be back tomorrow a little past sunrise, give you a chance to pack up, and get ready otherwise." Hudson stood up and pushed his chair in. Looking back and forth between Park and you, he gave a little half smile. "It's good to have you both back." He turned and strided out, leaving you and Park alone.

"Are you alright, Bell?" She inquired, full attention on you. You were staring off into space. "I've never seen Hudson smile like that." You turned to her. "Have you ever seen him smile?" She gripped both of your shoulders. "Bell, I know it's going to be difficult, but he can't hurt you anymore. I know that you can do this." She gave you a tender smile. You couldn't find the strength to give her one back, you were using it all trying to keep your mind occupied with anything else, as long as you weren't thinking about him. 

You gave a small nod as your only answer before slowly standing up. "We should go pack." You muttered emptily, already heading to the staircase to go to your room. 

___________

You turned over to look over at the clock on your bedside dresser. 2:17 AM. Shit, were you ever going to get any sleep tonight? Probably not, because hard as you may try, you couldn't get your thoughts to shut up. You thought back to your letter you wrote earlier. 

"I never want to see you again…"

"What part of that don't you understand, you asshole?" You sarcastically murmured to yourself. Turning over again, you shut your eyes extra hard to try to get to sleep. 

3 hours of hardly sleeping later, the sun had risen. Why the hell did Hudson have to say sunrise and not sunset instead? You groggily dragged yourself out of bed, got changed into your regular clothes, and limped downstairs, duffel bag in hand. Park was already sitting at the kitchen table, dressed, tea cup in hand. "Good morning, Bell." You gave a half hearted wave in return. As you stumbled into the kitchen and sat down, she took a closer look at you, her face changing to concern.

"Bell, did you get any sleep?" She questioned you. Resting your forehead in your palm, you mumbled back "No, but, can you blame me?" You both sat there for a few more hours, waking up over tea. You began to wonder where Hudson was. He hadn't given you a specific time that he'd pick you up, just "after sunrise." It was almost 8 AM when you heard four sharp knocks at the door. "Finally." You uttered as both of you stood up and grabbed your bags, moving to the front door.

Park opened it, and not a second later Hudson was already bombarding you with information. "We need to move fast. Perseus agents just attacked the safehouse in West Berlin. They're baiting us to a mall in New Jersey. Adler and his team are already en route." Shit, you didn't think you'd be getting back in the action this soon. Park swung the door closed, locked it and put the keys in her pocket. As you all got in the car and started towards the airport, you began to feel a little dread. Was there any part of this you were actually going to enjoy? Maybe finally putting a bullet in Perseus' skull would make it worthwhile.

Yeah, it definitely would.

[darlingor]

Need sad Russ fanfic recommendations. I don’t care what it’s about, I just need it to rip my heart out and stomp on it. Thanks!