Russell Adler scar scenarios | part one: Annealed glass |
A/N: The lack of posting is because I've been busy with life responsibilities. For one, I've been moving, and I'll probably be moving again within the next month or so. I also have GED classes that I'll be starting soon. I haven't lost my motivation for the fandom.
This is the first part I'm making. Right now, I'm writing multiple scenarios for how he could have gotten the scar on his face. If there's a particular scenario you'd like to see, please leave a comment.
The next part will be shrapnel.
"Kids are very intuitive..."
Russell spoke into his voice recorder in the basement of his house.
The basement was muggy and dark, with spiderwebs clinging to the support beams and patches of mold creeping along sections of the wall. Something he'd need to fix. Just to have something to do.
The once-infamous clandestine special officer was now a washed-up old man. Retired. Living comfortably on a pension that, at twenty-one years old, he'd never imagined he'd receive. Back then, he'd been certain he'd end up six feet under.
The years passed by. His thirties. Then his forties. And now his fifties.
"I was in Russia—the injury happened there."
An overly expensive cigar rested between his fingers, mostly there for decoration.
"I fit in." He knew he did. People ignored him, and he could slip past almost anyone.That part was easy.
That's all it took to blow his cover.
"She could tell something was off about me." He chuckled, the sound rough with disbelief.
"At the end of the night, my face smashed into annealed glass."
Only that he'd been defiant.
He hadn't answered a single one of those bastards' questions.He'd laughed in their faces.
One moment he was standing.
The next, his face met a glass panel.
His scars didn't hurt anymore.
The nerves had died the moment the glass shards impaled the sensitive flesh of his face. As he got older, he'd lost most of his control. Part of his lip had gone numb. He couldn't feel it anymore.
"I pulled the shards out of my face."
His palm drifted over the ragged scar.
"It's hard to scream when you're choking on your own blood."
People think glass simply shatters on impact. They don't realize how catastrophic the injuries can be. Sure, someone might need stitches after breaking a picture frame or punching through a thin windowpane.
But annealed glass is different.
Instead of crumbling into small, relatively harmless pieces, it breaks into long, razor-sharp shards that can cut deep into flesh.
"One day, I was this handsome, baby-faced man."
He knew he'd been attractive.
Even at his age, he knew he still was.
"I turned into a rugged, scarred-up man the next."
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