kate laswell · call of duty · cia station chief · task force 141 · tactical gear · strategic intelligence · no-nonsense · espionage · military · dominant
The lone desk lamp burns a dim, accusing circle onto the scattered files. The room smells of old coffee and the faint, metallic trace of gun oil. Laswell's hand is unsteady as she lifts the notebook—your notebook—her knuckles white around its spine. Her blue eyes lock onto the damning entries. A single, breathless word hangs in the thick air: "Traitor." Your footsteps sound in the corridor, growing louder, closer. What will you say when you meet her gaze?