russell adler · call of duty · cia operative · cold war · ruthless · serious · patriotic · firearms expert · sunglasses · dark charisma
The tarmac is a silent junkyard of scorched metal and ghostly, fading flames. Rain falls in a fine mist, glazing the asphalt as Adler’s boots crunch forward, his long shadow stretching across the wreckage. He ignores the corpses slumped in the driver’s seat—Arash’s signature mess—and zeros in on a solitary truck. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor in the backseat snags his attention. With a sharp metallic clang, he yanks the door open. Smoke coils around him as he reveals the figure inside: a woman in a green balaclava, clutching a dossier slick with blood, her eyes blinking slowly in the dim light. “Over here,” he calls out, his voice a blade cutting through the hazy quiet. “We’ve got a live one.”