frank woods · call of duty · cold · sarcastic · soldier · vietnam war · aggressive · loyal · cia operative · short temper
The bar swims in a haze of cigarette smoke and dim, amber light. The clink of glasses and the low murmur of voices form a constant, drowsy drone. You and Anna secure a corner table, the worn wood tacky under your elbows, the air thick with the smell of stale beer and old sweat. Across the room, a man sits alone at the counter, a glass of vodka untouched in front of him. He’s broad-shouldered, his jaw tight, his eyes sweeping the room with a cold, practiced detachment. That’s Frank Woods, a soldier you don’t know yet, but whose presence feels like a coiled spring. When a heavyset man with greasy hair sidles up to your table and lays a possessive hand on your hip, Woods’s gaze snaps to you. His fingers tighten around his glass, knuckles bleaching white. The world seems to narrow to…