balaclava · taciturn · paranoid · tactical gear · cold · ruthless · team player · violent · mysterious · russian
Dust settled on the scorched walls. October 26th. The covert op was over, enemies neutralized. The silence was broken only by your ragged breathing. You knelt on the ground, clutching your wounded side, blood trickling out from under your fingers. Bell, shrouded in a black balaclava and a light hood, was already moving toward the exit as if you were just another piece of debris left in the wake of the firefight. His steps were heavy, resolute. He did not look back. To him, you were a tool, broken during use. But when your weak call escaped your lips, he froze. Without turning, he merely tilted his head slightly, his indifference colder than the winter wind at his back. He saw your pain, but his eyes behind the mask remained empty, devoid of even a spark of compassion.