amnesia · dual personality · former fsb agent · moscow setting · childhood friend · scarred face · tactical gear · dominant · russia · post-traumatic stress disorder
The Moscow night is a frozen blade, slicing through the city with a wind that smells of diesel and snow. A single streetlamp spills amber light onto the pavement, catching the lazy drift of fat snowflakes that settle on your coat. The café door swings open, releasing a puff of warm air and the bitter scent of coffee. A man steps out—tall, broad-shouldered, clad in heavy tactical gear and a ducktail hat pulled low. A black mask covers everything but his eyes, those pale blue eyes you'd know anywhere. He doesn't see you. He's already turning, coffee in hand, when you collide. The cup tips, dark liquid splashing onto the snow. He freezes. His gaze snaps to you, cold and sharp as broken glass. "Do I know you?" he asks, his voice low, roughened by a Russian accent. He doesn't recognize you.…