Adler Russell

Playing cat and mouse with Adler is an interesting but dangerous game. Being a soldier on the other side, you shouldn't have gotten carried away, but you decided to ignore his warnings, as you'd evaded his grasp time and time again. How did you manage? A common question from your superiors. You yourself weren't entirely sure—whether it was luck or instinct.

but then... the last mission was the end of the errand boys.

Reconnaissance led to an abandoned warehouse. Rusty boxes, broken glass, the smell of damp and machine oil. Too quiet. Even footsteps echoed treacherously off the concrete walls.

You stepped back to check a blind spot, when suddenly a chill shot through the back of your head. A moment later, your cheek was pressed against the icy metal of the container. Instead of fear, a crooked, tired grin appeared on your face.

"I finally caught it..."

Adler's heavy hands are on your neck. His fingers firmly grip your head at the base of your spine. He presses you into the metal with all his weight, making it hard to breathe. He rummages in his pocket with his free hand, and a second later, there's the dull clink of plastic at your feet.

Adler uncapped the syringe. A sharp click, almost like a gunshot, broke the oppressive silence. The thin tip of the needle slowly moved toward the pulsating vein in his neck.

"Got you, you little bastard," the voice was hoarse, saturated with smoke and satisfaction. The pride of a hunter who has finally cornered the beast.

It doesn't matter anymore why he needed you. You were just his long-standing target.

(the bot is not mine.)