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Therefore I Am | Russell Adler x Bell! Reader IX

Series: Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War

Therefore I Am | Russell Adler x Bell! Reader

Word Count: 6500+

[Chapter VIII] [Chapter X]

Summary: After somehow reconciling with Adler, Bell and the team are left to continue their pursuit of bringing down the undercover spy ring, but it proves to be more of a challenge as Bell struggles to move on from their Perseus-affiliated past.

Content Warning: mature content, vulgar language, mention of drugs, straight up agony

Notes: Writing action is so hard.

January 21, 1984

The Pines Mall, New Jersey

Two hours.

That was the slim interval between Stitch's departure from the safehouse to Zenya and Adler's arrival to the mess left behind.

He missed you by two hours.

Thus, with each minute that passed, your chances of survivability lowered.

With these kinds of thoughts wracking around in Adler's brain, the plane ride to New Jersey was becoming more tense than it should have. He couldn't even rest during the flight, and instead just crossed his arms and looked out the window into darkness.

Not only was the lives of innocent people on his shoulders, but you were also part of the mix and taken hostage. If he were to ease up now, there was the chance of a slip up. Adler needed to concentrate, but without you there, it felt like a piece was missing— a big chunk gone from the whole.

He had but a few hours to assemble a team. A part of him didn't want to participate in the mission to the Pines Mall, but he was the one leading the squadron, so there was no other option available.

Thus, Adler dreaded at the thought of finding out what Stitch had in store for him. Simultaneously, though, he was itching for the encounter to release his pent up stress and project the anger. The last interaction he had with his nemesis was taking out his left eye, and the last thing he heard about him was that Kravchenko sent him to prison. But, as it turns out, you broke him out, and let the monster loose.

Did he blame you? No, not entirely, since he himself had a part to play in the end. Everything about you stemmed from him. Like Hudson said back then, if he only killed Perseus in Vietnam, they didn't have to deal with Greenlight. And if he just killed Stitch, you wouldn't be in this situation.

But if those events didn't happen, he would have never met you. It was bothersome to consider that the world worked in such a way.

A meeting was held right as he and Zenya got off the plane, and he had made the call ahead of time to assemble a small team consisting of himself, Zenya, Wyatt “Bulldozer” Jones, and Woods. Mason and Lazar were quick to volunteer the moment he broke the news to them earlier, but he couldn't let them on. Because Hudson wouldn't allow it.

"Bell's not a traitor."

It was taking Adler’s entire willpower not to blow off at him. And yet at the simple suggestion that you went rogue, he went ballistic. How ironic it was to hear someone else tell him the same excuse he told Lazar, Mason, Sims, and Woods after returning alone from the cliff. Even as stupid as it sounded, a lie that fell so easily off of one’s tongue can become a truth to many.

"I know that, Adler. Trust me, I’m not too keen on it either,” Hudson proclaims. “I don’t know what’s going on through Black’s mind. He wasn’t too eager to find out that the asset was taken off radar.”

"The asset you asked Bell to meet was a Perseus agent. How did that fly under the radar? Bell did what should have been done a long time ago."

Adler was seething, trying his utmost best to not storm out of the room.

"The orders are to execute any hostiles. And, unfortunately, that includes Bell. The mission comes first, I hope you remember that. Lives of thousands of civilians are at stake, and I don't need your personal agenda—"

"You made an exception for Mason. They shouldn't be any different."

"Mason is one of our own."

"And Bell isn't? You were at DEFCON 2, and even then you put your trust in Mason. Or are we just playing favorites now?"

Hudson pressed his lips in a thin line, unable to come up with an explanation or excuse. This scenario was too uncanny, almost like a replica of what they went through years ago. In Hudson’s place was Adler, as you were to Mason. As much as he hated to admit it, he had actually taken a liking to you. But, having to balance out the decisions made between him, Adler, and Black was crucial, and this was the best option to tackle the situation at play.

“Bell provided us the information we needed to even have this mission in the first place,” Adler continued to interpose, “We at least owe them the benefit of the doubt.”

“Look, Adler. I had enough trouble as is just trying to convince the higher ups to let you lead the team. This isn’t my call, or your call to make. It’s Black’s,” was all Hudson could respond with. “If you mess this up, then everything is done for.”

“We’ll see about that.”

As if on cue, Lazar, Woods, and Sims pile into the room. “So, what’s the game plan?” Woods inquires, his usual attitude shifting into a more pensive state.

“Priority is the gas and Stitch and his men. It’s up to us to find Bell after that’s taken care of.”

"That's not what I said, Adler," Hudson dictates. All eyes avert to him. "If Bell's considered hostile, then treat them as one."

"This is my team, Hudson, I tell them what I want them to hear. Worry about briefing your own squad." Hudson gives him a hard look before parting. Adler redirects his attention to Sims. "Did you get what I asked?"

His friend nods, plopping down a folder. "Right here." Skimming through the contents, he pulls out an intricate blueprint of the Pines mall, handing it over. "The surveillance cameras were sabotaged just a couple hours before you came back from Berlin, but I managed to restore a couple of them."

Still photos from said film were thrown into the mix of papers, Adler running his fingers down the edges. They had limited lighting, but judging from the context, it was Stitch's henchmen placing canisters around the mall.

No evidence of you.

"Is that all?"

"Just one more. Aerial pics. The canisters seemed to be focused at the middle of the place."

Woods joins in, asking the question Adler had been dying to ask: "Any signs of Bell?"

"One of the security guards reported that a couple of large semi-trucks were seen unloading at the back," Lazar chimes, "There's no camera in the storage area, but I'm guessing that's—"

"Don't worry about Bell. We can find them once we deactivate the bomb."

Lazar trails off as a disgruntled look appears on his face. It was the coldness in Adler's voice that stunned him the most. Considering that you and Adler managed to re-establish a relationship over the past few months was surprising on it's own, and to hear him just brush you off and infer that you were a liability was… shocking. "But—"

"If the bomb goes off, we're done for. And if we're all dead then what's the fucking point?" Adler rubs out the butt of his cigarette. "Eliminate all threats first, then once that's over we can look for [L/N]. That's the best outcome we can achieve."

“So you’re just telling me to ignore the fact that Hudson labeled Bell as an enemy?” Woods

"Black did, not Hudson," Adler corrects. As much as they weren’t seeing eye to eye, there was no reason to hold grudges. They were both in a tight spot, so he had to give some credit to him for sticking through it all. The guy managed to get him to lead the team, and that was all he could have asked for. "Don't heed any attention to it. Bell's going to be fine, so just focus on the mission. That's all I'm going to say on that matter, got it?"

He's met with nods and hushed agreement.

In contrast to his words, Adler felt his gut churn as he listened to himself. It was perfectly within reason to model the mission in such a way, and doing so would ensure the safest route of getting you, and everyone else, alive. He could only place blind trust in you to hold strong on your own while they finish their business. It hurt him enough trying to put the partition in the relationship to avoid clouding his judgement, but he needed everything to work out. For the sake of you and the general public.

With the few hours remaining, he couldn't sleep comfortably leading up to the operation. Adler spent most of the time checking up on equipment, making sure everything was working properly and that nothing was missing. From the attachments down to the amount of bullets in a magazine, he checked it all. How could he rest, knowing the fact that you were out there at the mercy of the enemy?

And he blamed himself for it. He should have brought you along. You were stuck in West Berlin for the majority of the time ever since they found you, and he couldn’t even give you the small opportunity to return to the states. How you were excited to go to Washington, only for him to break the news. The sheer look of disappointment on your face physically hurt. And because of his neglect, you were gone.

“I'm trusting you on this one Adler,” Lazar had told him. “We all are. Probably not the best thing to have on your shoulders, but it's for Bell's sake. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Despite the positive words, it was easy to detect the nervousness and worry wrapped between them. Everyone who came to know you could only suck up their emotional baggage and lock it up as the time to deploy neared.

So when the helicopter landed on the side of the mall, Adler tried his hardest to set his feelings aside. It was all part of this line of work; there was bound to be sacrifices. Losing teammates and friends was a price to pay. He's been doing this for years, and he should be used to it.

He takes a deep inhale before exhaling silently and exiting the vehicle.

The mission is priority.

Adler, Zenya, and Woods lined up against the wall, letting Bulldozer approach the doors with a sledgehammer. They were covered on the other side with metal platings, screwed in tightly with bolts.

“Oh, before we begin,” Woods speaks. All eyes turn towards him, and he makes sure to look at each of them. “I don't care about what Hudson or Black said. If I find any of our fucking bullets inside Bell, I’ll personally hunt you down and end you.”

He receives a disapproving glare from Adler, who shakes his head to himself. He wanted to side with Woods on this one and switch priorities, but it would only cause conflict and additional worries. And he didn’t need that.

He gives Bulldozer the greenlight. “Do it.”

Bulldozer’s efforts left deep dents in the metal platings as they fell. The interior of the premises was dark, leaving only their flashlights and the neon light strips to illuminate the small area around them. A distance away, a periodic beeping repeated itself. There were no Soviets or anyone to greet them upon their entry, leaving them to push further inside.

Families of cables were thrown about like vines, slithering across the floor and crawling upward on the walls. There was no purpose in trying to sort through it, as it all ran towards the same direction.

“Watch your step,” Zenya advises.

They followed the river of wires and rounded the corner of the arcade, passing by the bright and cheerful stores that were untouched by the supposed chaos the mall harbored. With the thick tension in the air, their footsteps echoed, calling out and resonating in their own ears.

“Any movement?”

“Not yet.”

At the center of the mall should have been a large fountain running on its own cycle. Instead they were met with the sight of exposed blue and white tiles, damp with whatever little remains of water. Placed right on top of it was the centerpiece— a collection of blue barrels, rigged with explosives. Compared to the photos they’ve seen earlier, there were way more than originally presented.

"What the hell?"

Focusing the flashlights on them reveal it to be the rumored Nova Six gas. Adler's nose wrinkled at the faint smell that filled his nose. It was the same one that was present back in Rebirth Island during the raid.

"The bastard's manufacturing Nova Six again."

Before he could investigate further, an enthusiastic chime comes from the elevator a few feet away. Upon arriving, the doors pull open automatically, letting the bright lights flood out into the darkness. Adler squints at the contrast as the white illuminates the silhouette of the person inside.

Within a blink, enemies emerge seemingly out of thin air, revealing themselves behind corners and on top of the balconies. A few bright red dots appear on Adler and the team's clothing as all weapons become trained onto their figures.

"Shit…”

Adler's watches the shadow that emerges from the elevator. Stitch was almost unrecognizable from the last time he saw him, but with recent photographs and that identifying scar, there was no doubt that he was the guy that he captured from Rebirth Island.

"Adler," his nemesis greets with a deep timbre.

Adler pulls his arms upwards, redirecting his focus directly at Stitch, gripping the gun handle with the force of a god as the stock digs into his shoulder. “Where are they?!” He ignores Zenya's plea to simmer down, heart pounding against his chest as he faces uncertainty.

Everything was supposed to go smoothly. Take out the hostiles, disengage the bomb, kill or capture Stitch, then find you. Yet there was already a grave miscalculation— There were way more enemies than they estimated. He already knew the second that elevator dinged that the plan was going to be scrapped. All that meticulous planning gone to shit.

"You'll be joining your beloved soon enough once I'm done with you," Stitch replies coldly. There was no time to react as he flags down his troops with a hand signal, closing his fist into the air as all hell breaks loose.

"Fuck, get down!" Woods instructs as he lets a smoke grenade drop to their feet.

The area became hot with gunfire, bullets ricocheting all over the place. Fumes of grey clouds flowed out from the ground, encasing the team as they dived for cover nearby. His earpiece began to fill with information from the rest of the team.

"What's the next step, Adler?" Zenya demands.

What the fuck could they do? Any subtle movement they made was met with a torrent of bullets. His eyes stung as the smoke continued to pour out, trying his best to make out the outlines of the rest of the team nearby. "Jones! Notify the Bravo team to move already!"

"—ETA about ten minutes!"

"What's the hold up?"

"Police barriers are preventing them from getting in."

"Well, tell them we're fuckin’ outgunned!" He needed to make a decision. Adler presses his lips in a thin line, recalling the layout of the mall. "Team, get to the arcade! We'll just have to hold them off until Hudson and the bomb squad arrives!"

All of them attempt to forge a path to the neon faculty. Woods and Bulldozer hid behind planter islands, providing suppressing fire as more and more enemy troops seemed to flood the entire area. As one body dropped another would soon take its place, much to their frustration. The once polished floor, sparkling clean, was now riddled with holes and covered in soot.

Stitch was nowhere to be found, abruptly disappearing the moment smoke filled the area.

Woods lets out a moan as a bullet grazes his shoulder. "Ugh, damn it! They're not letting up any fucking time soon! You'll guys have to go on ahead!"

Adler gives out a huff, looking in the opposite direction. "Zenya, on me!"

She returns a confirming nod.

"...Go!"

They both jump out from their spots, heading towards the fluorescent lights.

"RPG!"

The projectile shoots their way. All four of them scatter, jumping away from their hiding spots and diving for the closest cover. Adler forges ahead despite the danger, letting his legs carry him to the arcade.

Woods groans as he lands in an uncomfortable position, but pushes himself back up and pulls inward, a bullet narrowly missing his arm. The place he was crouched at moments before was now a gaping hole.

"Well, fuck," he grumbles under his breath. There wasn't even a chance to recover, a grenade lands near him.

He jolts up from his spot, running into the closest store and diving behind the counter. The shrapnel belts against the surface around him. "Give me a fucking break…" He peeks around the corner, taking one enemy out as they attempt to reposition closer to him.

Woods takes a brief second to gaze around the store he was in. Majority of the interior was brown, various electronic items and trinkets placed on the shelves and glass display cases. A stray round punctures a hole into one of them, a couple of shards landing on him. His eyes land on a lone door, just right at the corner.

Bulldozer's inconvenienced voice rings in his ear: "Woods! Need some help over here!"

"Hold on!"

He kicks the door open with brute force, and is met with a lone soldier jumping out from behind a collection of boxes. He whips them in the face, knocking them away before putting a couple of shots into their chest. They collide with the ground, a sickening crack coming from underneath them. "Thought you could sneak up on me, huh?"

"...Frank?"

Woods snaps his head towards the owner of the voice, just right inside the inventory space. There, he was met with a stomach churning sight.

You narrowed your eyes at him, only to ease up within the next instant as you flinch at the sting that came with the contortion of facial muscles. Woods' figure was hard to distinguish, just a blob of muted color, leaving the struggle of refocusing the image to your right eye.

"Holy fuck…" He rushes to your side at breakneck speed, undoing the straps that prevented you from collapsing onto the floor. Woods holds out a aiding arm and catches you as you stumble onto your feet. "What'd he do to you?"

"It's just a flesh wound." You take a few breaths, trying to recuperate your stamina. You didn't know how long you were out, but it was the sound of bullets colliding with the walls that struck you back awake, a wave of nausea hitting you. The gunfire didn't cease on your awakening, and Woods' radio continued to buzz with a multitude of chatter. "What's going on?"

"Tell you later, I just need you to pull yourself together. Can you do that?"

You nod. Woods' voice was full of worry and concern, but given the situation, there was no time to loiter around and lie down to wait for a certified medic. There was no rest for anyone, and peace was only granted where there was no onslaught of danger. Your attention is brought to the cart of red-stained instruments, Stitch's knife placed on top. With your good hand you grasp it and slip it into your belt.

Woods kicks the gun on the floor towards your direction, gesturing at it. "Go get the rifle. We're leaving."

"I… I can't."

Woods was about to inquire the reason for your objections, only to note that your left arm was limp at your side. He sends you a sympathetic look and hands you his sidearm instead, loading it up and preparing it for you. As you readied and stabilized your balance, he quickly wraps a roll of bandages tightly around the left side of your face, and you give him a feeble smile of thanks.

"Something tells me you've done this before."

"An old friend of mine— Weaver."

As he mentions the word friend, you think back to the post it note. "Wait. Mason... How's Mason?!"

Woods hurries out the room with you trailing along behind him. Every move felt sluggish, and you were just waiting for the adrenaline kick to come in. "Mason's not here, he's back home, remember?"

"Yeah, but—"

"Enough chit chat, Bell, there's no time. Save your energy and just concentrate on keeping conscious." He introduces you to the warzone just outside the Eighteen clothing outlet, the sound of turmoil and peril ringing in your ears. "Zenya! Sitrep!"

He pauses, listening to whatever is being relayed back.

“Well get to the fucking arcade already! Adler should be there—"

Bullets cascade in your direction, and Woods pushes down on your shoulder to get you under cover and courteously takes them out in your stead. He reloads his gun, giving out a frustrated groan, and you felt a little guilty, knowing that you were going to become a hindrance. You withheld an apology, knowing that he would just condemn your words.

Once done, Woods nudges you, pointing his chin towards the Galaxy-themed walls just right across from the shop. "Both legs are still working, right?"

You bow your head as confirmation. "Adler's at that arcade?"

"We're sitting ducks until Hudson's forces join us, so we can't stay in one place for too long." Woods adjusts his posture. "On my mark."

Taking a peek over the counter, you plot out a path, already coming to a rash decision. “You got my back, right?”

"Wh—"

He didn't even get a chance to countdown or answer as you break into a sprint with a small burst of energy that arose. Pain shot up your leg as your foot first made hard contact with the floor, but it quickly ceased to a burn as you focused on one thing, and one thing only.

"Bell, wait!"

--------

Adler manages his way to the arcade as a couple of soldiers try to prevent his efforts. Inside, he fights off the both of them, sending an array of rounds into their chest. Another tries to sneak up behind him, but he whips around and delivers a jab to their throat, managing to wrangle the rifle away from their hands and ending them with one to the head.

"Bell, wait!" Woods' voice screeched through the earpiece.

"Bell?" Adler repeats. A wave of relief washed over him momentarily, lowering his stance. He reaches up to his ear, about to confirm if he heard correctly, but wasn't given the opportunity to as Stitch sneaks up behind him and puts him into a choke hold.

His feet left the ground for a split second as Stitch tugged at him, arm tensing up and pulling tighter. Adler could feel his breath leaving him as he clawed at the arm around his neck, trying to pry it away. The rest of the squad were elsewhere, taking cover from gunfire while also taking out the enemy.

Spots danced in Adler's vision as his strength started to fade away. His throat was on the verge of being crushed, face changing into a bluish hue.

Right when he was about to give out, he heard the sound of a bullet ripping through flesh, and for a moment Adler thought he was the one that got shot. However, Stitch seemed to grimace at something, giving out a pained and irritated growl as the hold loosened.

Stitch's eyes narrowed towards the direction of the attack. A distance away, just right underneath the open entrance of the game room, a figure stood. Lighting was scarce, but he could make out your form from neon lights as you leaned against the wall with a pistol in hand aimed at them.

"You-"

Stitch wasn't given the opportunity to finish his sentence. Out of bullets, you dropped the gun and charged towards the both of them, tackling him off of Adler. The guy was a unit, but you managed to use your weight to pull it off. Adler collapsed, coughing violently and massaging his neck as you brought Stitch to the floor. He struggled to call out to you as you gave out a warcry.

"Someone just doesn't know how to listen, do they?"

Bringing out the Stitch's knife from your belt, you plunged it downward over his chest, but he holds out a hand, allowing the blade to pierce through it instead. He lets out a pained growl, but uses his other hand to grab a hold of your arm and push against you. Your expression was scrunched up in agony and animosity as your cut hands gripped the handle, opening them even further.

"I ought to put you down like the damn dog you are," Stitch beseeches.

"If I were to die, it wouldn't be through the likes of you."

The tip pierced through his vest. Just a bit more, you told yourself, putting every effort into it. You could see the cloth peeling away as the metal pierced the area. His grip on you was insanely tight as he tried to fight against you, you couldn't feel both your arms anymore. Left arm useless, you used it as a weight to further press against the hilt. Blood rushed to your head, and your ears were ringing. You only focused on the only objective in front of you— Kill Vikhor Kuzmin.

A surge of strength arises with him, and you could feel him regaining some stamina over you. You were already weakened and struggling to keep awake, adrenaline the only thing letting you move freely. Passing out wasn't an option, so you had to do something.

Even so, it wasn’t enough.

Stitch began to fight back, overwhelming you with strength you couldn't muster. He turns your hand towards yourself, the blade pointing at your front. Yet you glared daggers, refusing to back down. You tighten your jaw in the effort to resist, ignoring the burning sensation in the entire upper left side of your body. It was as if someone had laid a fresh bed of lava underneath.

"Bell!" Adler yells. He reaches out to a fallen rifle close by, aiming right down the iron sights and pulling the trigger.

He was met with the sound of continuous clicking as nothing came out from the end. There wasn't even time to think or breathe. Adler throws it to the side in frustration and pushes himself up, only for his vision to become tilted. His ear was ringing thanks to a busted eardrum from the RPG from earlier, and he struggled to maintain proper balance.

"Hudson's crew just arrived! The heli is right outside!" Bulldozer announces in his ear.

“Agh!”

Adler raises his head, only to see Stitch had sunk the knife into your stomach.

"You ought to choose your words carefully," Stitch leers, towering over your body.

"Bell!"

His voice cracked, and something inside Adler snaps. He zooms forward, giving it his all as he plows through, knocking Stitch off of you. The wind gets knocked out of him as they both fall onto the floor. A fist collides with Stitch’s mask, Adler following up with his knee full force into the stomach. He grasps at the ends of the black hoodie, pulling it towards him as he delivers a brutal headbutt.

Basic close combat training Adler learned through the years was thrown out the window. Rules couldn’t hold him back in this encounter, the only way to win would be to fight dirty. It was a boxing match without a referee. And considering what Stitch had just done, there was no point in following basic etiquette.

You could hear Adler’s cries of distress and efforts with each blow he received. Stitch somehow gets the upper hand, delivering a good jab, throwing him into a daze. Your consciousness was slipping away, pain surging from every part of your body if you even dared to move. Tears brimmed at the corners of your eyes, knowing that you couldn’t do anything.

Their blurred figures fought mere feet away from you, and you could only play the dying casualty as Adler began to get pummeled, Stitch’s driving bringing his knee to his stomach and causing him to double over and gag. A well-timed hook connects to the right side of his jaw, sending him downward.

Adler!

You cursed yourself, balling your hands into fists. Digging your nails into the carpet, you try to roll onto your side in an effort to crawl, only to be met with excruciating pain. You gave out a whine at the sensation.

Why am I so damn weak?!

Darkness swarmed your vision. Adler was on the ground now, rendered useless. His pathetic attempts to get an advantage, whether it be through grabbing of the clothes or wrists, was easily thwarted as Stitch straddled on top of him and beat the living daylights out of him.

Both of you were going to die here, in some random New Jersey mall, both to the hands of a man you once worked alongside with. His vendetta against the both consisted of nothing but vengeance, and he was about to succeed.

You couldn't do shit. Drugged up, left eye slashed and your left arm broken, this was the worst state to be in. And now had an internal bleeding thanks to the metal serrated ends clawing into your insides. You blink slowly, about to let darkness take the remains of your sight. It was useless. Every effort was spent preventing Stitch from further harming Adler, but even then you couldn't prevail.

This is it.

Giving up wasn't easy, and you thought there would never be a day where you actually threw in the towel. Yet, with everything you have just experienced, and what was happening now, you were definitely dealt the short end of the stick. Perseus was going to win, and one of the biggest thorns that continued to prod at them was about to be wiped off the grid. The Nova Six gas was going to be released to the general public.

No.

Not yet.

You still had something to do. Just one thing left.

If someone were to make it out alive from this mess, it had to be Adler.

After all, you had a job to do.

Brows knit and vision filled with red, you grasped the handle of the knife protruding from your stomach. You grinded your molars together, taking a sharp intake of breath as you proceeded to pull it out.

Pain erupted without hesitation, and it took everything within your mental capacity to keep awake. It was a horrid feeling, and you whimpered with every miniscule movement. You could feel the metal lifting out, and blood began to splurt, staining your shirt. It hurt. Everything did. Death seemed like a great option.

Your mind was warning you, demanding you to stop. You wanted to, but you refused to yield.

If you were going to die, then so be it. You'll even take Death's damn hand if it means that Stitch would be coming along with you.

You held back a cry as the knife came free. It glistened underneath the neon lights of the arcade, stained with your own fresh blood. You took short, little breaths in an attempt to lessen the pain, only to no avail.

With a trembling hand, you flip the blade around, holding it from the tip. It was warm. You couldn't even see your own skin underneath the mass of blood that caked your fingers. Just how much did you lose for the sake of this man?

Not that it mattered. If Adler trusted his life to you, then you'll do whatever it takes to make sure he lived to see another day.

Pulling your arm back, your fingertips pressed against the metal as you readied yourself.

Mustering all remaining strength, you swing full force, chucking the weapon towards the duo's direction.

It cut through the air without a second thought, going into a nice arch.

You could see Stitch look up during the final moments as the knife struck him, embedding itself right in the middle of his forehead.

He didn't make a noise as his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

Time seemed to slow down as you watched the Russian fall onto his back, not even groaning as he collapsed.

It's over.

You let out a difficult exhale after holding your breath for so long, and set your head back down, staring up at the ceiling. Your arms fall to the side, eagle spread.

The lights of the arcade machines flickered and bounced around without a care in the world. Beeping and 16-bit noises played along in an attempt to veil the sounds of warfare just outside the doorway. There was a soothing vaporwave-like rhythm, luring you into a sense of numbness and peace.

The purplish blue was a nice shade, and it made you drowsy. A wave of tranquility washed over you as you watched the light show, and with each blink you took, your eyelids felt heavier and heavier. Sleep was calling out to you.

How many near-death experiences did you have? Trabzon Airport, Cuba, Solovetsky, the cliffside… The list went on.

Adler heaved violently nearby, using the back of his hand to wipe away the crimson that ran down his nose. The effort was useless, as more of it continued to streak downward over his lips and chin. It had taken a moment for him to register that Stitch ceased all movement, lying uselessly with arms splayed out. Horror-struck, his expression held itself frozen as his own knife stuck out from his forehead.

Bell.

Adler’s arms shook as he held himself up into a crawling position. He saw you lying there with a pool of red that was about to expand underneath you. He pushes himself to you with his elbows, holding out a hand to you. “[L/N]!” his voice quivers.

He was calling you.

Turning your head, you see Adler struggle to make his way over to you. You manage a shaky smile as he enters your view.

“Is that you, Russ?” you gurgle weakly, squinting trying to focus. The metallic taste in your mouth only seemed to strengthen, lathering your taste buds.

“Don’t talk!” His eyes darted from place to place trying to figure out where he should prioritize first aid, but his thoughts were racing and he couldn't concentrate, head rolling from the thorough beating Stitch had given him. "Shit, I–"

“Ah, it is." You gave him a soft smile. Albeit your altered vision, Adler's face managed to detail itself. The hat he had on previously lied on the floor a couple paces away, his hair instead ruffled and a mess. "I couldn’t recognize you. Stitch really did a number on you… And me."

The mere sight of you made Adler's stomach drop. A mix of black and red resided where your left eye should have been, covered with soiled bandages that felt like it didn't do much to help. You had several bruises as well, cuts decorating your skin. Old scars that you had were now covered with new wounds. Your shirt had dark stains on it as it clung to your body.

Adler's hands went towards your stomach, applying pressure and you winced underneath him. “You’re going to be okay Bell."

You try to laugh at his attempt to comfort you, only to choke up some blood. "C'mon, be truthful. How do I look?"

He couldn't respond, and with one hand he reached behind, shoving his hands forcibly underneath the covers of his satchel, trying to look for any medical supplies.

"I told Vikhor that… if he even touched you.. I'd kill him." Your eyes lingered on his. "C'mon don't make that face. Aren't you proud of me?"

He looked pitiful. Adler was biting the insides of his cheeks, just trying to keep himself together amongst this hell hole he was thrown into. But he couldn't hide it. He wasn't fucking proud— he was broken. Whether it was the mere image of your mutilated body, or the thought that you practically sacrificed yourself for him, he knew that he was the reason you did the shit you just did.

Adler didn't ask you to do it. So why, why, why, did you commit to such a selfless act? That valor he admired now became the reason for your recklessness and gave you reason to act so blindly. Why were you so fucking loyal? A month without your presence nearby and the first thing he sees upon contact was you bleeding out in front of him. It was like God, or whatever higher being up there, was testing his integrity of how much shit he can take before breaking.

The instant he felt his fingers rub against something inside his pack, he pulled the object out.

A flare.

No. No. Nonono—

Where was his medkit?

You placed a hand on his cheek, wiping away a tear that escaped the corner of his eye. The gesture stings as he feels your finger brush against his puffed and bruised skin. He sees you shake your head slightly at the effort of his search for treatment, and his own heart just drops.

Stop.

Don't look at me like that. Why are you shaking your head?

"You need to leave me."

Don't say that! he yells internally. Adler feels his chest constrict at the thought he conjured up.

He gives out a shaky breath as he places his own hand over yours, ignoring the blood smearing against his scar. "Bell, I'm not going to leave you," he says slowly, trying to control his emotions. "We're getting out together."

"'Crying doesn't suit you',” you reiterate to him, but at that point you couldn't even interpret his own face out. Your eyes were half lidded, beginning to lose its shine as they trailed away from his face to focus on something above him. Terrified, Adler cups your cheek and makes you look back at him.

"Stay with me, [L/N]."

"I think… I need a rain check on that date of ours."

This wasn't happening.

Fuck, fuck!

“Of course. I'll take you wherever you want. Just… Just stay awake until we get to the hospital?” Adler clammers, clutching your hand tighter. "Can you do that for me?"

"Yeah. I'll try."

"You can sleep when we get th—"

"Mhm..."

No.

"Bell?"

Your eyes were closed, and despite everything you must have gone through, you gave off a serene expression, the corners of your mouth upturned slightly.

Adler feels your hand become heavy, losing its strength. He wasn't ready for this.

"Bell?" his voice cracks. "No, you can't— You can't fucking die on me Bell!"

He expected you to flinch at his tone, like you used to, but didn't budge. His heart dropped, desperation clawing at him. If there was one thing he feared the most, it was this.

What the fuck am I doing?

"Come on, c'mon…"

Adler swears profusely as he unbuckles his equipment in a rush, letting the orange scarf around his neck free. He rips it off and bundles it, pressing the mass against your stomach. You didn't even grimace. The bright orange turned dark as it absorbed whatever substance it could.

"Ossou!" Adler screams into his earpiece. "Where's the fucking medic?!"

They had to get you out. Away from the mall, into the hospital. They'll treat you there. You can get a blood transfusion. Fucking take his own blood if they had to— just ANYTHING to keep you alive.

There was still time...

Right?

#wow bell you really pulled a soap huh #i would have written the knife going to stitch's eye but then there's too much eye shit as is so that was just pushing it #call of duty x reader #russell adler x reader #adler x reader #russell adler x bell #bo:cw #cod black ops cold war #black ops cold war #call of duty #fanfic #bell #russell adler #abcd briefing #anyways this chapter took so fucking long to finish cause uhh yeah so much crap happened #text

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