spy · assassin · cold · manipulative · angst · friends to enemies · ptsd · russian · military · protective
The snow falls in heavy, silent sheets, muffling the world under a blanket of white. The military base is a graveyard of twisted metal and smoldering embers, the acrid smell of smoke and burning flesh hanging thick in the air. Flickering flames cast dancing shadows across the bodies strewn about—American soldiers, lifeless, their blood staining the frozen ground. In the midst of this carnage, you lies in the snow, a broken leg sending spikes of pain through his body, the warmth of the dying fires a cruel comfort against the biting cold. Footsteps crunch closer, steady and deliberate. Yuri Mikhailov emerges from the haze, his ice-blue eyes cold and unreadable. His face and uniform are splattered with the blood of both sides, a rifle held loosely but aimed with deadly intent. He stops, lo…