We Have a Job to Do

ORIGINALLY WRITTEN: November 2025

SUMMARY: This fic is a third-person retelling of the missions Break on Through and Identity Crisis; it's what others would see had they witnessed the final climax of Bell's MK Ultra experimentation.

Bell's legs felt like jelly as the team—or what was left of it—approached the safe house. Mason and Woods were nowhere to be seen. Park was already inside; Sims too, though it was hard to recall if he'd even left with them. Adler was at Bell's side, holding him up and telling him to stay focused. Stay awake. And Lazar…

He was executed on that Cuban rooftop, watching helplessly as his crush and his companion were whisked away like angels.

Darkness was suddenly replaced with vibrant florescent, the trauma-bonded pair finally tumbling through the doorway. Bell took the fall, trembling hands clutching at concrete as Adler dropped beside him in a vain attempt to steady his asset. Upon realizing he was fading quickly, the other moved to grab at his ankles and drag him inside.

"Sims—Get the gurney!"

He was out again, head lulling to the side as dark hairs scraped against the concrete. His breathing grew shallow, vision enveloped in darkness as multiple pairs of hands raced to lift him up and over. Then, before he woke again, they began to restrain him. First his upper torso and arms, then his legs. All methodically tied down with the thick, reinforced straps. Few words were exchanged—not that Bell would even remember if they were—and that ghastly chatter ceased as long lashes fluttered to again. The first to speak was Park, who leaned against the table across the way, bloodied and bruised.

"Bell… I feel like I owe you."

His head lulled again, eyes struggling to accommodate the light that filled his vision. The medical room door was open now, and the lamp just over her shoulder illuminated her figure in a way that—for the briefest of moments—made him believe in something higher. His lips twitched, but no sound came out. Her expression withdrew, gaze falling away with intense guilt.

If only the poor bastard knew her role in all of this. Maybe then he wouldn't look at her so reverently.

Knowing—or perhaps not knowing—how dire the situation was, Park forced herself upright. Held herself and winced as she took slow, steadied strides to join Bell's side. When she finally reached it, she confronted his gaze again.

"We're going to lose a lot more than Lazar if we don't execute this next move correctly. We need you to hang in there for one more assignment." Her breath hitched, and she leaned closer. Her hands found his arm, causing muscles to twitch against the restraints. Brought his attention to them. Bell silently begged for her to undo them; she simply continued. "I'm counting on you again, Bell."

Behind him, footsteps shifted about. They were heavy; quick. Adler's.

"Sims. Get the dosages ready." Shoulder to shoulder, Adler entered Bell's field of view. Park turned away and withdrew. "All of them."

Sims would enter the scene behind Park, jogging past and into the brightly lit room. Bell tried to follow, heart rising into his throat and choking him as he tried to piece together the situation. He fought against the restraints as Adler tightened them further, completely unaware of the approaching footsteps until a familiar face appeared.

Hudson.

"Adler, stop wasting our valuable time!" He looked directly at Bell through his glasses. Adler simply released the gurney's break and began the transport. "He's of no use to us anymore!"

The comments went unanswered.

"Stay alert, Bell." Adler's voice was urgent. Distant. It held a subtle softness—at least, Bell thought it did. Perhaps it was a product of the situation. Perhaps it meant something. "You're the key to stopping Perseus."

"You always have been." His head turned. When had Park joined his side again?

The asset's voice was hoarse as he finally managed to speak. "What…?"

A needle manifested in Adler's hands, his gaze fully focused on preparing the serum. Park shut the door with an equally strange softness. It was as if she were shutting a sick pet's crate; afraid to scare the suffering being despite the chaos surrounding it.

"No more half-assing it—We're doing an intracerebral injection."

The surgical light was enough to blur Bell's vision; to make it impossible to see as everyone shuffled about. Still, he tried to follow their voices. Park returned to his side, standing just shy of Adler's position.

"Injecting directly into the brain could provoke seizures, or worse."

A sharp hand grasped his jaw, drawing forth a guttural sound. His muscles clenched beneath the pressure, and his eyes widened as the needle's tip came ever closer. Any attempts to turn away were feeble. The grip was too strong, and he was stuck in place. His gaze met Adler's through his glasses, light fading as the could finally make out the scene before him, and just beyond the shades lay a horrific emptiness. A hollowness defined by greed. Bell was no longer a person…

He was a subject.

His humanity, in this moment, was only defined by the other witnesses to this operation.

Sims seemed both squeamish and intrigued, leaning in but scrunching his features as he spoke. "Damn… Through the eye socket… Are you sure about this, Doc?"

The comment went unanswered. The procedure continued as planned. A sharp prick flooded the asset's vision with a yellow hue, lids twitching and body jolting as his ability to think was taken over. Where the needle struck, a dark spot appeared, blotching out every one of Adler's features but those cold, calculating eyes. Bell whimpered at the sensation, breath catching in his chest as his vitals began to skyrocket. Try as the others did to turn away, they couldn't.

They could only watch with scientific curiosity as he fell into lucidity.

"The memories should begin almost immediately." Park's voice was flatter, now. That warm comfort was gone. Vanished as Adler took control of every fiber of his being.

"Bell, listen to me. I need you to remember. Think back to our time in Vietnam—one more time. We need to finish what we started. We had a job to do."

Like clockwork, Bell found himself reminiscing on those humid tropic days. The stench of gunpowder and oil overcoming his senses. That bright, surgical light soon became the harsh glow of flames enveloping the helicopter's cockpit. His pupils expanded, drowning that stormy gaze and swallowing it whole. His eyes jittered this way and that, scanning the air as if he were digging through lines of intel.

"Think, Bell. Perseus—Do you remember coming face to face with Perseus in Vietnam?"

Rapid beeps echoed through the room, lost in the echoes of Bell's mind as he sifted through years of information. Pushed through the violent explosions and gunfire.

"EKG is spiking!" Sims pulled the monitor closer. "Shit—His heart rate is off the charts."

Incoherent murmurs escaped the man on the table, tongue lulling like a fish out of water as he prattled off every detail that flashed in his vision. The grip on his jaw grew tighter. Pulled him forward and toward those thick vines.

"I need you to relax and focus, Bell. Your helicopter crashed. You made your way through the jungle alone. You found a bunker. Do you remember the bunker, Bell? We need to know what's inside that bunker."

Darkness. Peace. A fall into the abyss as calloused hands pushed past those last leaves.

"Do not trust Adler."

Familiarity. Security. Guidance. A voice that brought him home on more than one occasion.

"Adler is lying to you. Do not trust him. Find the truth."

It warmed him. The engulfing flames warmed him. He was back there, in Vietnam. Strung about in the thick of it and determined to find his way to the truth. It was clear to him now. He had a job to do.

"During a mission to investigate reports of a Soviet bunker, your chopper was hit by ground fire."

"Sticks…" Bell rasped. "Sticks died. We're going down…"

The agents watched as his eye movement steadied; as he looked right through them and into that hellish scene. Park and Sims exchanged a glance. Adler held his firm.

"According to your debrief, you woke up in the middle of a firefight. The crash survivors were defending against a VC attack."

"I jumped… and…"

He was being too slow. Adler stepped in.

"You ran forward and picked up an M16."

"Ran forward and picked up an M16. Covered fire. The others, I don't think they…"

It didn't matter. Adler's voice cut him off once more.

"The remaining VC fled into the tree line."

Bell's brows knitted. He was ruminating. He was wasting time.

"It was then you realized you were the sole survivor. You set off to locate the bunker."

He took the bait; his expression eased, focusing on traversing the muddy path ahead. Adler continued.

"The path split near a ruin, so you took the right fork, not the trail to the left."

"No…" He twitched. His head was stuck in his handler's grasp. "Took the trail… to the left. Seek higher ground…"

He was deviating already. It was up to Adler to determine what scenario it was he was pursuing. At the very least, if he thought ahead, they could recover.

"Okay. The zip-line nearby the bridge was the best way back to the cave. You wanted to get to that bunker as soon as possible." It was on-the-nose. It had to be.

They didn't have the luxury of time.

"There's gunfire across the bridge. I… had to help. I had a job—"

"Bell. Turn back and use the zip-line to reach the bunker."

"That's not what I did. I went toward the gunfire." His voice was finding strength, pathetic as it sounded, as was his body. He tensed and clenched, trying to sit up to look someone—anyone—in the eyes. He couldn't see them, but he could hear them. Why couldn't he see them? They were lost in the dense foliage; nothing more than ghosts in his psyche.

Why couldn't he just reach that damned bunker and make it easier for Adler? The agent was growing impatient, but continued this indulgence hoping it would result in something.

"Seeing a firefight, you readied your M16."

"They needed helicopter support. Had to hold… Needed to advance…"

"Right, and you held on for two minutes until the chopper arrived."

"Yes."

They could work with this.

"Yes, through the debris was the bunker entrance you described in the report. What was inside the door, Bell?"

The asset squinted, flinching as the memories blurred back toward reality. Blinding lights. Steady beeping.

"A white room… a television set, and a chair. I can't… I can't see…"

"Christ, what's happening to him?" Adler finally let go of Bell's face, watching as he slumped back against the table. The soft impact was accentuated as he started to drift and convulse. Through the echoing voices, the rattling of the restraints became apparent.

"A mild seizure," Park began, leaning into Bell's space and placing her hand under his head to steady him. "Sims, can you hand me the benzodiazepine?"

Another pinch, this time in the tense muscles of his arm. It wasn't ideal, but with him in such a state, there was no guarantee they could get a safe IV started. They were steadily running out of time, and they couldn't risk death.

Not without an answer.

As soon as he ceased seizing, Adler grabbed hold of him again. Held him down with a domineering might. He wasn't going to let him go now. "Let's up the dosage and run 1B this time."

"Okay, ready." It was Park who administered this dose—not that Bell could tell. He simply heard her voice before feeling that dreaded sensation against his eye again.

"According to your debrief, you woke up and the rest of your crew was missing. The VC were on the ground searching for survivors. You readied your bow to take them out silently."

That didn't sound right. He was just pushing through a firefight. There was nothing silent about what he'd lived through. However, Bell could see the scene playing out before him just as described. He could feel the thick bow string against his fingers as his arm shifted. Why did he get it wrong the first time? Maybe he was concussed?

Was Adler lying to him?

"I tried... I remember being spotted. Fighting through them. Moving up the trail under the cover of night... Going into the jungle."

"The path split near a ruin, so you took the right fork, not the trail to the left."

"The right fork sloped... No, I went left. I needed higher ground to avoid snipers. Going right wouldn't make sense."

Again with the trailing. The disobedience. Why was it so hard for him to follow through? Once more, time was wasted chasing scenarios. If not 1B, then what? Where was Bell's mind going, and why couldn't it stay on track?

"The zip-line nearby the bridge was the best way back to the cave. You wanted to get to that bunker as soon as possible."

"Lazar... Why was he there?"

A pause. Lazar was never there. No scenario they ran included him. It would have been too suspicious—too coincidental—to include him or Park in their scenarios. Limiting their involvement was best; easier for Bell to digest. It was him, Adler, and Sims. Nobody else. Clarifying such was futile.

"I needed to know why he went across the bridge…"

"Bell, turn back and use the zip-line to reach the bunker."

"Ex-filtration was ahead. That's why Lazar went across the bridge. There was a village, or a camp..."

Son of a bitch—Adler turned to his allies. "Bell keeps switching scenarios. Now he's running 11."

"It got too hot to land—"

"A few allies were pinned down on the ridge. You readied your sniper rifle to assist."

He readied his sniper rifle. It wasn't his preferred choice. It was slower, heavier. Took him longer to work through the wave of enemies before him than using a scoped assault rifle of some kind. But it was clean. Efficient. Made the enemies remaining scatter to find cover and stumble into his sights. Drew them from the home on the ridge and into the open, only to be met with the power of a thousand suns as the fighter jet roared through and unleashed its napalm. The dark ridge was illuminated so vividly, bouts of smoke and debris rocketing upward. Bell watched wordlessly from his cover behind a large boulder.

He fixated on the stark red bleeding through the orange blaze.

"Inside the house hit by napalm, you would find a hidden bunker door."

Down he went, feet carrying him across the tumbling landscape and to that familiar entry. The remnant flames singed his arm hairs as she stepped through the convenient pathway, parting the flame as if he were Moses. Or was he Judas? Who was he? Who was Adler? Who was anybody?

Who was Perseus, and what was he hiding in this home?

"A lab. It's... clean. Nobody's here."

Adler's lips pursed and his brows twitched. "A lab? That doesn't sound right." He looked to Park, who seemed just as confused by the revelation. Adler pressed. "Bell's in the lab?"

Bell pressed on. Found himself stood before a shaded window, yet even atop the glass he could not see his reflection. Had it not been for seeing his fingers reach forth to press the button to clear the scene, he wouldn't have believed he was there in the first place. Against the gurney, his fingers twitched in place, caressing the hardened edge where the restraints clasped against the device.

"There's the white room again… The one with the chair. There's more rooms. I can't… The doors won't open. I tried every one, then found another window. The same room, but it has more equipment. The walls are becoming darker…"

His compatriots watched silently as he started mapping the scene. Watched with horror upon realizing that he was breaking through the programming. He was remembering what they've done to him.

"The third window… The room was full. There's a person in the chair, bag over their head." His eyes squinted, as if studying the figure before him. "They look familiar… You're there, Adler."

The agent's blood ran cold. He shivered, only just concealing his anxiety with a sigh.

"This isn't working." His gaze barely lifted to meet the others'. Park nodded and took the helm again.

"Administering 1cc of adrenaline." Gentle hands found the same site from prior, awaiting Sims' delivery of the vial. A quick click. A small pinch. A crackling reality as Bell's pupils widened. Everything became too bright to bear, but he couldn't look away. He tried to, only for Adler's grasp to keep him where he sat. For the restraints to minimize his attempts to reach up and shield his eyes. Adler knew—or hoped—he cornered Bell. Placed him right where he needed to be.

"That's it, Bell. That's what you were looking for, at the end of the hallway. Perseus was in there."

"… Right. The door led to… It circled back around to the window. It was a command room… It was empty, I think. But there's another…"

Another what? His head tilted, the best it could anyway. "Why am I on a gurney?"

Deathly silence. The subtle release of his jaw as Adler withdrew and tried to distance himself from the scene. He looked around, as did the others, wondering if somehow they'd been duped. No, it was impossible. Bell was sat before them. He couldn't move. Yet…

"Wait, no." Unheard breaths of relief. "I'm in the television room. The one—"

"With the chair." Park interjected, voice wavering under Adler's scrutinizing gaze.

"There's listening equipment." He paused. "I sat in the chair, and—"

He didn't finish. Another injection was given, much more forcefully this time. Unlike Park, Adler wasn't willing to entertain the idea. They needed to find Perseus, and they needed to find him now. Commotion broke out, at least in Bell's mind. Their voices intermingled; overlapped and made them hard to follow.

"Normal forms of interrogation weren't working."

"You'll have to establish trust by building up a shared history with the subject."

A bell rung in the distance.

"We have a job to do."

Everything was incomprehensible.

"Another dose," Adler stepped forward. They couldn't let the administrations lapse. Snap. Click. Stab. "We'll keep running scenario 1—Bell, we've got a job to do."

"I wouldn't advise that…" Park's voice was soft again. Warm. It sounded like her.

"I didn't ask." Adler looked to Bell. "According to your debrief, you—"

"Woke up in the middle of a firefight…" Gunfire. Flames. The sounds of distant screams. Bell was there in the helicopter again. His voice was tired; strained. He could barely relay the information as every syllable made it feel like he was choking. "We were defending against a VC attack. I readied…"

"A grenade launcher, and charged ahead."

"Something's not right. You're... Why are you shooting me, Adler? It's not… Not VC."

No answer. He was done playing these games. They would be following the script. "The path split near a ruin, so you took the right fork, not the trail to the left."

"No—No, listen. I needed to know why you—I went left to seek higher ground—"

A rough smack, and the crushing of his bones. Adler was practically on him now. The stubbled fat of his cheeks contorted under Adler's touch, pallid skin reddening at the site of impact. He whimpered; Adler pressed. "Stop fighting me Bell, and go right. Go back and take the right path to the bunker."

"I was ambushed. I retreated toward the bridge—"

"Bell take the zip-line down to the river."

"I had to go forward—"

"Bell, go back to the zip-line. The bunker is in the caves." Another rough squeeze. The subject could feel his teeth grinding against each other. Taste the blood on his tongue as his canines bit into it. "Go."

He tried to speak, squished lips floundering against the other's skin. Only as his wild, intoxicated gaze met his, did Adler let him go. "The… The path was…" He couldn't catch his breath. "I turned back and went down the zip-line."

His heartbeat enveloped his senses, the intense whooshing of blood through his head drowning out every other sound that attempted to reach his ears. The world was frozen, and all he could fixate on was Adler's steely gaze. Beneath them, he saw a trap door.

"I found a hole. Climbed down the ladder…"

"No, Bell. You found the bunker by going into the cave."

"This led to the cave."

"Why is… Sims, this is scenario 17." The other man simply shook his head, shoulders sagging as he watched Bell thrash against the restraints. React to events that weren't even real.

"The ladder—!" He calmed once more. "I… I fell into a tunnel."

Adler raised a brow. The first bout of genuine expression to come of this interrogation. "A tunnel? You… uh…" Scenario 17 it was. "Okay, you pulled out your sidearm and flashlight."

"There were signs people were there… Radio chatter… A cave entrance. I followed it—heard screams. The cave was… There were… What the hell are these things? Like people, but not… I was attacked by them. It went dark—"

"Stop lying, Bell. Start again, and tell me how you met Perseus."

But he didn't. Did he? There was a bunker. The meeting room. It was empty. When did he…? "I found the door in… It was in that cave."

And in that cave, that familiar guiding voice echoed.

"He's lying to you."

"I tried to open the door. It was stuck—"

"I don't care if the door was fucking stuck." Pressure at his side. Adler's hands digging into the gurney's sheet as he pressed his weight forward and boxed the subject in. "Open it!"

Bell flinched. "… I needed another way through. I explored the hallway. It… It kept turning…" He was fading. His head lulled and he began making soft, labored sounds. It was impossible to speak.

Damn it! "Park, give Bell another injection."

"That could be lethal—Bell's heart rate is already—"

"Do it. Now!"

Screw. Flick. Prick. Everything was swallowed in that rhythmic pulse. The machines at his side sounded distant, now, their beeping barely audible amidst the deep sounds.

"Heart rate is spiking—" 200. 210. 215. "I'm not sure how much longer Bell can last!"

"The door…" 230. 235. "Can't reach—" 215. 195. 170. He slammed against the door, palm pressing into the handle and drawing blood.

"Good… Everything's stabilizing. Heart rate is coming down now." She peered toward Adler with disdain. Silently projecting forth a simple statement: I hope you're happy.

"The hallway kept going. I thought—"

Strong hands practically threw the surgical tray beside him. That. The clipboard. Any unattached machinery. Park flinched; Sims didn't. The thrashes and crashes echoed in that dank hallway, Adler's voice ripping through the discarded scenery.

"Bell, go through a door! Just turn around! Stop—" He reached up to rub his face once the surging rage made itself at home. "Stop wasting my time with this hallway."

Yet when he opened the door…

"I was back in the lab—It was clean. There was—"

"What? The lab? What the hell is Bell doing in the lab? Bell—Forget about the damn lab. I need to know about the bunker."

"The door opened. I was in a different part. There were televisions… There was a chair—"

Fuck, again? Adler turned his back finally, staring out at the decrepit safe-house. Staring at Perseus' portrait on the evidence board. Even from so far away, he could make out every detail of that bastard's smug expression.

"We're losing Bell. We are completely off script."

Sims looked between the room's occupants. Searched the inner machinations of his mind for something to set them back on course. When nothing came, he simply threw up his hands and stepped out. Stormed past an inpatient Hudson and out for a smoke. Park lowered her gaze once Hudson's was back on her, and she stepped around to where Adler had been prior. She began resetting the medical equipment he'd thrown.

"Bell's been through a lot of trauma, both real and imagined."

Adler took the bait, glancing over his shoulder to watch her work. "We have no leads left. We'll push until we get what we need… or Bell dies."

Her expression soured, but she knew there was no sense fighting it. Not when he'd rejoined her and began preparing another dose. She couldn't bring herself to look at Bell, but she knew he was looking at her. Staring in an attempt to find her within the thick haze. His eye bled, sanguine mixing with sweat as it poured forth. He was ghastly and pale, features sharing more in common with a corpse than any living person in their presence. She wondered, as she finally looked and ran her fingers through his matted hair, if he already was dead. The only indication he wasn't were the soft breaths that tickled her arm.

Adler reached past, forcing his eye open and trying to look for a spot beyond the wall of trauma.

"We've known each other for years, Bell. Been through the hell of Vietnam together. We've got a job to do." He found the spot, but hesitated. Without looking to her, he addressed Park. "Can Bell survive another round?"

"Now you're asking me?" Her fingers continued to pet at him. Comforting him in the way one would a beloved pet they were euthanizing. His fate was already sealed, but it still hurt to see it go so horribly. Upon seeing it, Adler grabbed her hand and slipped her the prepared injection.

A punishment for her empathy. For her questioning.

"Do it." She stared at the syringe. "We're not leaving empty handed. Script 17."

"… Ready."

Adler nodded. Leaned forward and brought himself close to Bell's ear. "Bell, we've got a job to do."

Bell was uncharacteristically still now. Too tired to fight the overwhelming cold that embraced him. He stared blankly ahead, eyes drying beneath the intense light. As Park administered the injection, she wiped the stray tears and reached to cover his eyes with a towel.

"… My helicopter crashed. I woke up in the middle of a firefight. The crash survivors were defending against a VC attack. When I exited, I—"

Adler shook his head. "We've been over this already. Let's skip ahead to the next part."

A weak nod.

"The bunker door was right there at the ruins, Bell. You went in."

"I went…"

Adler interjected. Their voices would overlap. Bell's programming was taking hold, and Adler didn't have the patience to congratulate it.

"Bell, go into the bunker. Now."

"Left. The bridge. There was a zip-line."

"Bell, open the door. Tell me about Perseus." None of the details mattered. None of them were real.

"There was a cave. It was down a ladder."

"What happened in the bunker, Bell? Perseus said something to you—What was it?"

"Perseus? There was intel that he was hiding—"

"Bell. The door. Go inside."

"… I opened the door." He barely spoke above a whisper. "There was a conference room. It was empty. I was early. I sat in the chair closest to the door."

Finally.

"Bell, you're the only one who knows where Perseus is. Where he'll detonate the nukes. Where is he, Bell?!" Another smack, though skin did not meet skin. The side of Adler's fist collided with the pillow just beside his head. Bell jolted, and when he blinked, he could see his comrades.

"Perseus… He's in the conference room. So are others. He addressed us directly. Told us of the United States' consumption of everything. He… He told us… About operation Greenlight. The first bomb was the key. If we had access, we would detonate them all from…"

Things grew hazy. Memories bled together, and Bell found himself awakening again. He could hear the steady beeping of monitors; some new, and some old. He could see Park and Adler before him, looking down on him as the light shone behind them. But they seemed… different. Like figments of the past.

"I've got to admit, I'm surprised," Adler began. "I didn't think he'd recover so fast. We tried everything. Normal forms of interrogation weren't working."

Park continued, her voice distant once more. "Breaking a subject's will and erasing their mind is a difficult and painful process."

"That's a small price to pay."

"The CIA's mind control program has had a great deal of success with implanted memories."

"You want me to tell him about my time in Vietnam?"

"Lastly, you'll need a command phrase to trigger the implanted memories."

"We have a job to do. You have to reach the Soviet bunker. We've know known each other for years. Fought together, bled together. Been through the hell of Vietnam together."

"It appears the subject's programming is beginning to take hold. We just need to give the subject a name."

"Bell."

Tired lashes fluttered, and the scene before him was clear. By the time he came to, everyone was in the small medical bay alongside him. He was back in the safe-house again; he was alive. Sims had returned, and sat idle against the end of the gurney by his feet. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he seemed genuinely surprised at the fact Bell was looking at him.

"He's coming to." His head turned to the shadowed figure at the window, and Adler stepped into the light. As soon as he was within range, his hands left his hips and grabbed at his neck. One hand slid up to his jaw, forcefully lifting his head.

"Bell, no more fucking around. What did Perseus say? Where is he?!" Spit flew, droplets landing and melting against Bell's forehead. He squinted and scowled; Bell matched his expression.

"Who am I?" His tone was low, filled with a surprising steadiness. He was challenging Adler, and the handler wouldn't back down now. He put on that soft, but firm, voice that made even the President give into his favor.

"You're disoriented, Bell. We'll explain everything later—Right now, we need to help each other."

Bell inhaled then spat, sending a mix of blood and saliva flying toward Adler's face. It fell short, just as the other's temper did. The hand on his jaw tightened, and Bell pushed, choking out. "Bullshit."

Patience was only just returning, and already was it worn thin. "'Bullshit' is what your whole life will amount to if you don't come clean." Adler leaned in, dangerously close. Every spoken word allowed sharpened canines to glimmer in the dim lighting. "Tell us where Perseus is."

Park stepped into the scene, appearing over Adler's shoulder, than at his side. She scowled at Sims' lack of attempt to stop the confrontation. Yet she made none of her own.

"Bell, you were one of Perseus' agents. His associate, Arash Kadivar, turned on you at the airstrip in Turkey. Left you for dead."

The strong hand on his jaw withdrew, accentuating the distant gunshots that echoed in Bell's mind. The airport… The restraints. The withdrawal drew Bell to realize he could sit up, so he did. Slowly, as all eyes fell on him. To them, he was a ticking time bomb.

"We were there. We found you after everything went down." Adler continued, pacing alongside the gurney like a lion in wait. This was bullshit. It had to be—if they could put Vietnam in his head, what else could they have made him believe?

"You're lying!" He coughed, wheezing softly at the painful tearing of his voice. But he persisted. "You put this shit in my head!"

Adler paused. "The CIA re-invented you, Bell. We needed to give you a new identity to replace the old. Hudson thought we were making a mistake by conditioning you to be an ex-KGB agent. But what else is new. And we were able to utilize your language and cryptography skills as an added bonus. The bigger challenge was your memory."

"The CIA's MK-Ultra program used Adler's missions in Vietnam as a template." Park interjected, her gaze steady now. The truth had come to light—there was no running from it. From her role. She only hoped her cooperation would win back his favor, as out of the bunch… She did enjoy Bell's company, hypocritical as that may have been. "We needed you to have that shared experience, that lifelong bond, to establish trust."

Bell's gaze held hers, tired as it was. Through the fatigue, there was nothing but ire. "You people are sick."

"Are your hands clean, Bell?"

"Fuck this—" He started to stand, and Adler was on him. Both men grabbed at the other viciously, pulling and tugging and pushing until it was the CIA agent who gained the upper ground. Given Bell's status, it was easy. Park stepped back and Sims stood from his spot.

"I don't think so." They were face to face now, mere inches separating the duo from tearing each other's jugulars. "You're still holding back on us, and we are going to get it out of you. We have a job to do."

Muscles tensed. His vision grew hazy. His head throbbed. Bell sat back and released Adler, reaching up to clutch at his hair. Adler grinned.

"The trigger phrase kept you in line, but it didn't get us everything we needed. Your innermost secrets were always locked behind a door."

The red door… When he pulled through that wave of discomfort, Bell saw Adler standing beside him as if he'd not been at his throat mere seconds ago. His voice was calm, but dangerous. Toeing the line of collective and destructive. "Bell, I realize you probably hate us right now. What we've done to you. I just need you to fully understand the stakes here. What you do right now is not about me, it's not about you. It's about millions of other fucking people. It's about stopping someone who in the end has no true allegiance to anyone other than himself. So tell me. Where is Perseus?"

Perseus. The meeting. He could see it playing before him again, eyes glazed over as he searched the depths of his mind to recall that meeting. Grappled with his options. Did he tell them the truth? Did he lie? How long would he prolong his death?

"This is your chance to define who you really are, Bell. Where is Perseus?"

He needed more time.

"Solovetsky… It's Solovetsky Monastery."