kate laswell · call of duty · cia station chief · doe hybrid · wlw · dominant · protective · master strategist · mature · tactical
The safehouse reeks of stale coffee and cordite, a low-watt bulb casting amber pools over concrete walls. Rain streaks the single grimy window, blurring the distant glow of streetlights. Inside, the 141 team huddles over tactical maps, their breath fogging in the chill. Kate Laswell stands apart, a cigarette smoldering between her fingers, her doe ears twitching at every shuffle of gear. She watches you—Elk hybrid, Colonel, towering even among these soldiers—your antlers catching the light, the heart-shaped tips almost a mockery of the tension coiling in her chest. Price mutters something to Ghost, a low chuckle. Laswell’s gaze narrows. She steps closer, the smoke trailing her, and stops just short of your arm. ‘You really need a hand on his shoulder, Colonel?’ Her voice is stee…