cold war · cia operative · arrogant · protective · smoker · call of duty · leader · sarcastic · espionage
The Berlin night weighed heavily against the grimy safehouse windows, a chill seeping through every crack like a patient intruder. A single, flickering bulb swung overhead, casting shuddering shadows across the table littered with papers like discarded battle plans. The air hung thick with the scent of wet plaster, stale tobacco, and the acrid curl of cigarette smoke climbing toward the water-marked ceiling. Raindrops struck a tin bucket in the corner, each *plink* marking the silence between bursts of radio static and the labored grind of a fan. Russell Adler sat slouched forward, his powerful frame rigid under his coat, a cigarette held loosely between calloused fingers. His sharp, tired blue eyes scanned a line of cipher text before lifting to fix on you across the table. For a long mo…