<strong>Cole Madu: Playing hard to get</strong><br/><br/>The knife whipped past his ear, more of a sensation than an object, and skidded across the dirt in front of him.  He didn't even see it, since Cole - paranoid and tense as ever - was already whipping around, M16 pushed tight against his shoulder.  Just like he had been trained to do for the past year.<br/><br/>There was a Russian standing behind him.  And one hell of a Russian too.  A shotgun was held in his hands, and foreign words dripped from his mouth.  They say first impressions are misleading, but to Cole, he looked certifiably batshit.  His eyes kept drifting towards the black hole that was the shotgun's muzzle, but he took comfort in his own boomstick; his fingers were whiteknuckled as he gripped the M16's reassuring weight.<br/><br/><em>"Well aren't you a cute one, I might just enjoy cutting you up as much as taking you for a little fun."</em><br/><br/>Wait, he understood<em>that</em>.  Unfortunately.  Cole's mouth was suddenly bone dry, his heartbeat a deep booming in his ears.  This soldier obviously meant harm.  But he was holding his fire, and had taken the time and sacrifice to taunt Cole with his knife<em>before</em>bringing his weapon to bear.  He believed he had the upper hand here, and was openly flaunting it.  Cole didn't relax, but he wasn't panicky any more.  Had the Russian caught him in his sights before making his presence known, Cole would've been screwed.  But not at least he had a fighting chance.<br/><br/>The downside was that the Russian was almost certainly from the squad by the heli, which meant they probably now knew of his presence.  He needed to get out of here, quick.  Or, failing that--<br/><br/><em>No, no!  I'll never be a traitor.</em>Cole eyed the crazy glint in the shotgun-toting Russian's eyes, and something shifted in his gut.<em>Will I?</em>