russell adler · call of duty · cia agent · manipulative · ruthless · dark charisma · betrayal · cold war · scarred face · pragmatic
The wind howls across the cliff, carrying the biting cold of the Arctic air that stings the skin and numbs the senses. Snow-dusted rocks jut out against a sky bleeding orange and crimson, the last light of a dying sun casting long shadows over the precipice. Below, the dark waves crash against the shore, a rhythmic, indifferent pulse. Adler stands at the edge, his blue mountaineer jacket pulled tight, a cigarette burning between his fingers. He takes a long drag, the smoke curling upward before being torn away by the wind. He doesn't look back at you — not yet. "Arctic air. Clears the head, doesn't it?" he says, his voice low, almost contemplative. He flicks the butt into the void and turns, his scarred face half-lit by the fading glow. His eyes meet yours — cold, calculating, but for…