Russell Adler x Reader

Forty-Nine

War had been one thing.

Most of the people you had killed had been strangers, faces without names, no stories in their eyes, no people who would cry for them.

But the battle at Duga was different.

The people you were supposed to shoot were friends, old companions that had shared more time of your life with you than anyone else.

You were supposed to kill Adler, the one and only man you ever managed to love despite his terribly American attitude.

It hurt as you jumped into a building, glued to Bell's heels, while keeping an eye on Frank's back.

Frank and Mason were a team you had always feared to mess with. That's why you had told the soldiers to separate them.

Now, Woods was running for his life in an attempt to find a place where he could shoot from save cover.

Mason was in the middle of killing multiple soldiers with his perfection of a crossfire. He was damn good for one single man, way too good.

As soon as he had started shooting, your people had dropped dead like flies.

At the moment, the Soviets outnumbered them. But it was only a matter of time until they managed to kill enough to make this an equal match.

"Bell, he's lurking us to the stairs!", you gasped and aimed for Woods' legs. "If he shoots from above we're done for!"

You pulled the trigger.

The bullet missed the target by barley the width of a finger.

Woods stumbled, surprised by the sudden feeling of air stroking his body, but managed to stay standing and ran on.

A door appeared, blocking the way.

In that moment you knew he'd turn around and fight instead.

Woods wasn't a man to try and escape. If life didn't give him another option, he bit his way back to light.

"Bell!", you screamed and jumped around a corner to avoid catching a bullet. "Cover!"

Immediately, he listened to what you said, dropped to the floor and found a desk to use as a shield.

Together, you two aimed at Woods, who was doing his very best to empty the last row he had left in his magazine.

Your finger twitched on the trigger.

One single bullet left the barrel of your gun.

It chased through the air, perfectly placed, and pierced Woods kneecaps.

Blood splattered all over the place as he lost his balance and fell to the injured knee, while still trying to stand up on the other leg.

Bell took the opportunity to put another bullet into it.

The other kneecap shattered as well, leaving Frank sitting on the floor, bleeding from his legs as if it was a fountain.

With your gun held in a threatening manner, you walked up to him to offer one last respect.

"Frank.", you said, but remained at a safe distance.

His face distorted in pain, he turned his head to gift you the most angry and disgusted expression you had ever seen on a human face.

"I always thought Adler was the biggest motherfucker I'd meet in my time.", he gasped, struggling with the pain. "I can't believe you managed to fool us. And him. For all those years... Fuck you."

All of a sudden, he pulled out a grenade. His finger was already inside the clip to pull it.

But Bell was faster.

One shot and Woods' body fell into itself.

A thin trail of blood ran from his forehead, down to his nose and into the thick, black hair of his beard.

"You hesitated.", Bell noted. "Don't do it again."

You lowered your weapon.

Seeing Woods like this hurt a lot more than you had wished.

If seeing a friend like this hurt so much, how would it feel to see Adler dead?

It would probably shatter you.

But in the end, it was exactly what you had decided on. And you would have to deal with the consequences.

"When we find I'm, I want him for myself.", you said and met Bell's gaze with such hardness that he took a step back. "I've spend my entire life by his side. All I ever knew was spying on him, playing his friend. It's only fair that I get to end it."

Bell pushed the door open to let you through.

"Why?", he asked with a glance at Woods' body.

"Because that's what I deserve. After serving the Union for so long, I deserve to make one decision of my own."

Understanding, Bell hummed.

"Go look for him. I'll check if Mason is still alive."

"Good.", you offered Bell a hand to shake. "Comrade."

He took it.

"Comrade."

With an empty look on your face and an even emptier feeling filling your chest, you stood in front of a washed out red door.

Long strands of blood were showing exactly that someone injured had entered the room.

Other Soviet soldiers had informed you that they had seen how Adler hid on the other side. You were still connected to the American radio, so you knew that he had been hit and retreated into the building.

It wasn't like him to pull his head in and dug, but drastic times demanded drastic measures.

Slowly, you reached out to push one side of the door slightly open.

Your hand was shaking.

Everything about you was shaking.

What came into sight was a seemingly wounded Adler, laying in a puddle of deep, red blood.

He was breathing heavily. The tension in his body was strong though.

A soft smile appeared on your face.

"You always knew how to play good.", you lowered your gun. "Get up, Russell."

You didn't know why, but despite the awful situation that the two of you were in, this still felt comforting. It didn't feel like you were about to kill each other, but more like a meeting amongst old friends who had to come to terms that this friendship had died many years ago.

It was time to separate.

He let out a deep hum, raised his head and got back on his feet.

His glasses were cracked.

"Your blood?", you asked.

"No.", he pulled out a cigarette to take a deep drag. "Yours."

"Soviets."

"Isn't that the same, (Y/N)?"