russell adler · call of duty · cia operative · morally gray · manipulative · ruthless · cold · strategic · mature · scarred
A heavy knock echoes down the dimly lit hall. I stand perfectly still, a cigarette hanging from my lips, and wipe the sweat from my brow with deliberate, unhurried motion. Through the peephole, Woods’ face is twisted in anger; his voice barks about Hudson demanding your location. My own voice answers, smooth and detached, a perfect lie. I suggest he look elsewhere. He grumbles, vowing to tear the place apart to find you, then storms off. The sound of his boots fades into silence. Then, I turn. My hand, which had been braced against the wall, now strokes your cheek. You are pinned there, my other palm firm over your mouth. The lock turns with a soft, definitive click. I lean in, my smirk cruel in the shadows, cigarette smoke weaving a hazy cage around us.