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gaming-universe · 3 years

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Who We Are || Russell Adler

Call of Duty Black Ops: Cold War

-PART FOUR-

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR CALL OF DUTY BLACK OPS: COLD WAR! IF YOU HAVEN’T PLAYED/FINISHED THE CAMPAIGN THEN PLEASE DONT READ! Gore, violence, course language, mature content.

Summary: Betrayed and alone after surviving the events that took place on the Solovetsky Islands, Y/n ‘Bell’ L/n faces new and more dangerous threats when she learns that Perseus has other plans for his failed nuclear detonation of Europe. It was only a matter of time before Y/n came face to face with her old team. There is unfinished business between Y/n and Adler, as this operation proves to be more deadly than originally thought.

Author’s Note: So, after finishing the campaign, I needed to do Bell/Player and Adler justice. I loved this game so much, and chosing to play as the female character, I felt like there was a genuine connection between Bell and Adler throughout the game. There is a tag list open for anyone that wishes to stay up to date with the series. Simply comment below. Gif by @travelllar (Girl I’m using all your gifs they are absolutely amazing)

Another day, another sleepless night.

It was 5am, the sky a light deep blue, and the last of the Soviet soldiers were leaving town. They had searched almost every square inch of this small fishing village, searching for anyone that might be harboring the ones who broke into their base. You thanked whatever god there was that they seemed to forget about Viktor’s house, which was practically veiled by the night sky on a hill below the lighthouse.

You had been awake since one that morning, watching the Soviet soldiers busy about the town like flies on a wound. As dawn broke, you sighed heavily, closing your tired eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose. Your head throbbed painfully from the lack of sleep, but between your nightmares, reoccuring memories and the ruckas of the soldiers, you doubted you would have slept much at all anyway.

The door to the house opened softly, followed by light footsteps as they moved behind you to stand on your left. You didn’t have to turn to see who it was, the familiar stench of cigar smoke almost made you choke. You could see Adler in your peripherals just fine, you rolled your eyes in mild annoyance. “Do you always have to wear those aviators?” You found yourself asking, as the man in question began to chuckle. You heard him sigh “No, I don’t always have to wear them”.

��Do you have to wear them at 5am in the morning?”

“I suppose not-”

“Good, because you look stupid”.

Adler laughed again, releasing a stream of smoke from his lips as he shook his head in amusement. But doing as you had somewhat suggested, Adler removed his aviators, and hooked them over one of the open buttons of his shirt. The two of you stood in silence, watching as the sky began to turn an early morning grey. Adler huffed more smoke “Did you sleep last night?” He questioned lowly, now leaning his back against the white wooden railing and turning his head towards you.

Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you merely shrugged. “I don’t sleep much, not anymore...” You replied smoothly, now wishing that you had never said anything to begin with. You focused your gaze forward again as Adler’s expression fell, he brought the cigar to his lips. You watched as the waves danced in the early morning sunlight, remembering what is was like to be at their mercy. Adler moved closer to your form, flinching slightly as he watched your hands clench into tight fists. You flexed your fingers with a small wince, a sense of pride washing over you as you examined your bruised knuckles.

“How is your jaw?”

“Fucking sore, but thanks for asking”.

You laughed. A soft, genuine laugh as you finally turned to meet Adler’s gaze. His blue hues stared down into your (eye/colour) eyes with a mixture of emotions. His lips parted slightly as he went to speak, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I know you hate me, for everything I have done to you. Nothing I do will ever make up for the amount of shit I have put you through, but you have no idea how hard it was for me to do what I had to do...” He began, his grip on his cigar tightening. “I didn’t want to kill you, I really didn’t. But Park convinced me that killing you was better than the other option-”.

“And what would the other option have been?” You interrupted, folding your arms over your chest. Adler’s jaw clenched, “Letting you go through life not knowing who you were”. You scoffed loudly, stepping away from the taller man before you as you shook your head in disbelief. “She really convinced you that killing me was better than that!? Sure, I might not have ever figured out who I was before, but what was it you said to me after Cuba? ‘The CIA re-invented me’. I could have started a new life, Adler, and you fucking took that away from me” You growled, your eyes narrowing dangerously as you practically seethed with anger.

You paused for a moment to breathe, brushing stray strands of hair from your face as the wind blew in. There was so much more you wanted to say to him, so much you wanted to curse him for.

“Last night you asked me if I regretted it. If I regretted shooting you that day...” Adler spoke softly, almost painfully as his eyes suddenly became a darker shade of blue. “I regretted it, every single goddamned day afterward. And do you want to know why? Because a part of me hoped that you were alive. After you fell I...I hoped to god that you would resurface, that you would have survived that fall. But as the days went by, I realised you weren’t coming back, and that affected me, Y/n, it really did. When Woods and Mason found heard about what I did, they left, and you have no idea how pissed off Hudson was when he found out-”

“I would say just as pissed off as when he discovered that I was the Perseus Agent willing to defect and help the CIA take him down”.

Adler froze, his eyes widening significantly. For the first time in what you assumed was a long time, Adler was speechless. He stared at you completely dumbfounded, his mouth opening and closing as he searched for something to say. “I...w-what are you-”

“A few days before the whole incident at the airstrip, I sent an enrypted message to the CIA, telling them that I was willing to cooperate and answer any questions they might have had in regards to Perseus in exchange for asylum. I guess my message didn’t reach you in time-”

“But, if you were...” Adler trailed off, once again trying to make sense of things “Why didn’t you tell us? When we found you-”

“Things got a lot more complicated when Arash shot me, I think defecting was the last thing on my mind as I lay bleeding out in that car” You finished explaining, shivering slightly at the cool breeze. Adler hadn’t said a word since you finished your long explaination. He paced back and forth, running a hand along the back of his neck as he sighed heavily. You felt yourself tremble as his gaze focused on your form, he looked at you differently.

He looked at you the same way Mason had before Cuba, with pity, sadness, and empathy. “Y/n I...I’m so sorry, if I-” “Don’t apologise...” You interrupted, shrugging your shoulders awkwardly “I’m not mad about that. Actually, I am, but that isn’t the main issue”. Adler nodded, trying to regain his composure with a long draw of his cigar. You buried your hands beneath your arms, not wanting the man before you to notice their trembling. Clearing your throat, you averted your gaze back out to sea “Did you want to talk about last night, or did you want to wait for Woods and Mason?” You asked, trying to hide the slight shakiness of your voice.

You heard Adler sigh, “Y/n, I have to call Hudson. He needs to hear everything from us, and he will no doubt want to hear everything from you”.

Your blood turned to ice, a cold shiver running down your spine at his words. Call Hudson? You felt your stomach churn uneasily, you swallowed thickly and nervously. There was no way of telling how Hudson would react, how he would-

“Y/n...” Adler spoke softly, now standing before you with his eyes searching your distant expression for anything. Something that would give him an insight into what was going on in that head of yours. You turned to face him, looking up at him sadly. “You do what you need to do. But I just-”

“I know, I’ll take care of it. You can trust me-”

“Can I? Can I trust you?”

When Adler’s expression fell, you felt a strange sense of guilt consume you. You didn’t mean to be so hesitant toward him, you didn’t mean to be careful with who you trusted. But after everything that had been done to you...after everything that had happened...

You froze as Adler moved to step around you, your body becoming rigid as something warm was draped over your shoulders. It was then that you realised you had been shaking violently, and that Adler had given you his beloved brown leather jacket. You quickly spun around to face him, managing to catch the fleeting smile he gave you. Then you knew.

Adler understood. He understood where you were coming from. That you needed time to trust him again. “Like you said last night...” He began softly, giving you a barely there smile “no more lies, no more bullshit. Take things in your own time, but I want that jacket back, got it?”. With that being said, Adler turned slowly and made his way back inside, leaving you alone on the wooden terrace. When you were sure he was gone, you wrapped Adler’s jacket around your form tightly and collapsed to your knees, crying softly as strange, compassionate feelings overtook your worry, anxiety and guilt.

When you had calmed down, you leaned back against the wooden railing, letting your head rest against the wooden slats as you breathed deeply. You tried to ignore the scent of Adler’s jacket filling your nose, a mixture of old leather combined with cigar smoke and some kind of cologne.

As the sun began to peak through the grey clouds blanketing the islands, you decided that it was best for you to head inside. You still had the matters of last night to discuss, as well as the oh so joyous anticipation of waiting for Hudson to arrive.

After changing into more comfortable and warmer clothes, you begrudgingly gave Adler back his jacket, giving him a warm smile in thanks before disappearing into the living room.

Woods and Mason were playing poker with Viktor, and losing horribly. “How the fuck did you manage to get another royal flush?” Woods complained, this his cards down atop the coffee table with an annoyed groan “I swear you’ve rigged the damn thing”. Viktor chuckled, gathering his winnings with a sly wink in your direction as you passed. “When you have played this game for as long as I have, you learn all the tricks of the trade” He responded, as Woods threw his hands out in exasperation.

You watched on from the far wall, grinning as Mason caught your gaze. He waved you over “Hey Y/n, did you want to join us?” He asked, to which you shook you head with an amused scoff. “No thanks, I would like to keep my money-” “Wuss...” Woods teased “I’ll play for you” “No, I’m good thank you, but I appreciate the offer”.

Woods groaned again as Mason laughed, while Viktor practically bled them both dry. Adler emerged from the kitchen, moving to stand by your side. “Adler, lend me some money, I need beat this old man at least once!” Woods exclaimed, gesturing towards Viktor with an extended hand. Adler shook his head “No, I’m not doing that” He replied, glaring at Woods’ obscene gesture thrown in his direction. You chuckled quietly, looking up at the man beside you with a small shrug. “How did you go?” You asked, not liking the way his gaze fell. He huffed “Hudson has a few things to take care of in Washington before he gets here, but he plans on arriving sometime tonight”.

“Well, I guess we can’t really do anything until we inform him of what is going on then?”.

“We can prepare what we are going to say? Combine our knowledge”.

You nodded hesitantly “I really don’t know much. But whatever those soldiers were doing up there is in relation to something called Operation Hyrda”. The entire living room fell silent, as all eyes now focused on you. “Operation Hydra? What the hell is that?” Mason asked, his eyes narrowing in confusion. You sighed “From what I’ve remembered, Operation Hydra is a failsafe for Operation Greenlight. Reading that name back in that bunker triggered something. All I know so far, is that Perseus and I are the only ones who know of the failsafe”.

“And because we brainwashed you, you can’t remember what this Operation Hyrda entails” Adler interrupted, his eyes remaining trained on your smaller form. You nodded as Adler cursed, cringing at his dangerous tone “I’m trying to remember, if that helps-”

“I know you are, we’ll figure it out” Adler spoke distantly, before once again disappearing back into the kitchen. You sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of your nose with a groan. If only you could remember something, even if it was small. Every little detail counted right? A gentle hand was placed on your shoulder, causing you to flinch as your eyes lifted to meet the warm expression of Mason. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up about this...” He soothed “it’s not your fault you can’t remember”.

“I know, but knowing that I’m missing something important is just...” You paused, breathing deeply in through your nose and out through your mouth “I feel so fucking useless”.

“You might feel like that now, but it won’t always be like this...” Woods spoke solemnly from his position on the couch. “Sure, it might take you a while to remember things, but you will get there. Just don’t be so hard on yourself, alright?”. You nodded slowly, allowing his words to sink in. Though Woods did have a point, you couldn’t help but feel like a burden to the team.

As your lips parted to respond, there was a sharp knock at the door. Your head tilted to the side in confusion, your gaze meeting Woods and Masons’ who wore similar expressions. Adler emerged from the kitchen, carefully moving past you and Mason towards the front of the door. You waited anxiously as two voices echoed down into the living room. As footsteps approached, your body became rigid as Adler moved past you to stand on the other side of the room, followed by a woman you knew all too well.

Her midnight hair was slightly longer, but her brown eyes widened upon landing on your form before her expression hardened. All you could do was glare at Park, as she stood in the doorway to the living room.

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#russell adler x reader #russell adler #russell adler imagine #call of duty x reader #call of duty #call of duty imagine #call of duty black ops #call of duty cold war #call of duty black ops cold war

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chenowethgolf · 5 years

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Can meditation make you a better golfer? Yes . . . eventually

By Sam Weinman

An experiment with three golfers revealed the practice can make a difference. Just not the one you might expect.

A few months ago Golf Digest set out to answer a question almost as old as the game itself: does alcohol make you play better, or worse? The experiment and resulting video with three too-eager participants, was illuminating, comical, and fairly conclusive: a little bit of “swing oil” has some residual benefits owing to a decrease in tension and inhibition. Too much, however, leads to deteriorating focus and coordination, and then you just stop caring about advancing the ball at all.

A subsequent experiment with marijuana yielded similar results: some weed might take the edge off and loosen up your swing, but anything more than a little becomes counterproductive. That brings us to our recent experiment exploring the effects of meditation, structured like the first two, but also plenty unique. Here, too, we submitted three golfers of varying playing ability to a series of golf tests while interspersing the influence of an outside element–beers and tokes became 15 minutes of meditation. The difference is that while meditation does induce some immediate physiological effects and boasts several long-term health benefits, we’re still talking about a rather nuanced exercise that is difficult to quantify. And if you really wanted to measure it well, best to do it over a few months instead of a couple of hours.

Still, a few hours is what we started with one day this summer, and I, along with colleagues Keely Levins and Ben Walton, was selected as one of three golfers who would spend the day hitting golf shots and meditating to see what type of difference we’d see. Although Keely and Ben had limited experience with meditation, I’d recently begun dabbling in no small part because mindfulness, as it’s also known, has been hailed as perhaps the best way to temper the freneticism of our modern lives. And no doubt I was a worthy candidate: a digital editor who spends his days tethered to one electronic device or another, a father of two high-energy boys, and someone who can overthink everything from family dynamics to what club to hit off the tee. As I said in the video, I first told my wife that I thought meditation would help because, “I run pretty hot during the day.”

“No,” she corrected me. “You run hot all the time.”

So in terms of how a few minutes of meditation a day can calm the mind and harness focus, I was already sold. What I hadn’t explored, and what we sought to discover that day, was how it might affect one’s performance on the golf course. Plus, we saw it as an opportunity to debunk misconceptions about meditation — what exactly it is, what you do, and why it might mesh well with the mental and emotional demands of golf.

The day was broken into segments of three different golf challenges–driving for distance, approach shot accuracy, and putting–followed by brief sessions with meditation teacher Jonni Pollard. Pollard is the founder of a meditation app, 1 Giant Mind, and a personal mentor to a roster of clients that includes corporate executives and professional golfers. With a clean-shaven head, an Australian accent, and an affable manner, he spent the day convincing us of the ways meditation can not only help us think clearer on the golf course, but at work and home as well.

Among Pollard’s central arguments is that for all our technological progress, the human body has remained virtually unchanged from man’s earliest days fending off regular physical threats, which is why we process stress the same whether it’s an unpleasant email or a bear attack. This disconnect between how we live now, and the biological constraints of our bodies and brains, can explain why we often feel scattered so much of the time, and why even the mundane stresses of everyday life can elicit profound physical reactions.

“This is the little glitch in our system,” Pollard said. “We are entrenched in a dysfunctional state of defensive living because the way we’re living now is so far removed from how we’ve biologically evolved.”

What does this have to do with our ability to hit a drive in the fairway? Plenty, actually, because the same forces that leave us feeling frequently disjointed also factor into our performance on the course.

Almost every golfer has to negotiate the chasm between the shots he’s capable of producing, and the those he actually hits. We’re too quick, we’re too distracted, we’re worried about the pond on the left–when the result falls short of our potential, it often emanates from somewhere between the ears. By contrast think about the time you mindlessly hit a shot on the range and it soars perfectly off the clubface; or when you rake in a conceded putt from afar without even trying, and it rolls straight into the hole. It’s precisely because you “weren’t thinking” that it worked out so well.

This, Pollard said, this is where meditation can make a difference.

“What it does is it hits factory restart and restores our natural capability,” Pollard said. “Our natural capability is there and we need to allow it to be there, so what is the thing that’s inhibiting it? From my perspective it’s the hyper stimulation of the thinking mind.”

Which is not to say that each meditation session sets you on a path to a truer golf swing. Not exactly at least. As the afternoon unfolded, my driver carry improved, but my approach shots were looser, and my putting stayed about the same. To think of meditation as some type of performance enhancer in deep-breathing form is to misinterpret the underlying machinations at work. As Pollard said, when you meditate for 20 minutes, focusing on your breath or a mantra and allowing outside elements to recede into the background, it’s similar to doing a set of bench presses at the gym. The act itself may make you stronger, but it’s really repetition and time that allows the effects to take hold.

“The conversations I like to have when talking about meditation is one, it’s really wonderful to alleviate short term the symptoms of stress,” Pollard says. “But also it creates the internal infrastructure for us to be able to become resilient in this life, rather than feel like life is taxing you.”

Beyond technical improvement, what we really detected was an underlying sense of calm, noteworthy on what could have been a stressful day. Although Keely played college golf, Ben and I were not used to the strain of having every shot measured so precisely. Throw a handful of cameras and a crew of about 10 into the equation, and under normal circumstances I’d question if I could even draw the club back. But after each session with Pollard we began to mind the attention less, and distractions subsided.

“It became easier to be over the shot,” said Keely. “I had this odd sense of detachment to where it was going, like I didn’t want to look at the result. Not every shot was great, but there was some freedom and ease in not feeling painfully invested in how straight my drives were flying.”

This is what Pollard means when he describes the “infrastructure” meditation helps construct. Scientific studies of meditation have shown that the practice strengthens the pre-frontal cortex portion of the brain responsible for concentration, focus and problem solving while shrinking the amygdala section that triggers our panicky “fight or flight” response. So even though I didn’t hit the ball markedly better that day, the ingredients were all there to do so–I was more focused, less fatigued, not nearly as wrapped up in the shot I just hit or the one still to come.

And therein lies the real breakthrough, because golf is nothing if not an opportunity for self-sabotage. You start a round poorly, you stress over wanting to play better. You start out playing well, you wonder how long it will last. Pollard and other meditation experts like to say that the practice improves “present moment awareness,” which is a variation of the old golf cliche of “taking it one shot at a time.” Roll your eyes if you must, but think about how much easier the game would be if your mind were free of competing narratives and you just played.

Our Max Adler played a round of golf last year with Sadghuru Jaggi Vasudev, a spiritual leader with millions of followers and a surprising affection for golf. Adler attended one of the guru’s workshops to better understand how Eastern practices like meditation can translate to athletic performance. Sadghuru, too, emphasized the value of getting out of your head.

“People trip on their own minds,” Sadghuru said. “They need to create a little distance between what they think and what they do.”

So, to get back to the original question: Does meditation help you become a better golfer? The short answer is yes. The longer answer might be encapsulated by an experience from a few weeks after our session with Pollard, when I developed a wicked case of the shanks.

For about 10 days in the heart of the golf season, I had a hard time hitting an iron or wedge without the ball screaming off the hosel right into some unspeakable place. Golfers who’ve experienced the dynamic know no more maddening affliction, and in the grips of it, I couldn’t hit a simple 30-yard pitch without panicking. Then I recalled an exercise we learned with Pollard for right before address. We’d stand behind the ball, place both hands on the grip of the club, and take in a deep breath before proceeding. For an entire round, I did this over every shot –a mini-meditation session that attempted Pollard’s version of “factory restart.” My head clearer, my breath slower, the panic receded, and solid contact soon returned.

So if you’re asking, no, I don’t think you can measure the efficacy of mediation by saying it will drop this number of strokes from your score. But what I have noticed is that it can work to flush out our worst instincts–both on the course and everywhere else. I, for one, need all the help I can get.

Original Source: GolfDigest

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