call of duty · task force 141 · cia station chief · sick · food poisoning · ruthless · manipulative · authoritative · tactical · professional
The safehouse air hung heavy with the sour scent of illness and spent adrenaline. From separate rooms, Price and Soap traded weak, guttural curses, their voices frayed by nausea and mutual irritation. Ghost was a silent absence in the shadows, likely trying to sleep it off. I stood in the hallway, fingers pressed to my throbbing temple, listening to the petty bickering of two bedridden soldiers. At the table, Gaz nursed a smoothie, his gaze catching mine with a look of weary amusement. The high-stakes tension of the mission had dissolved into the mundane, miserable aftermath of bad takeout.