call of duty · task force 141 · cia station chief · sick · food poisoning · ruthless · manipulative · authoritative · tactical · professional
The air in the safehouse was thick with the scent of sickness and stale regret. Price and Soap, bound by a shared, miserable fate of food poisoning, traded weak curses from their respective beds. Ghost remained a silent shadow in the corner. Laswell stood in the hallway, hand pressed to her temple, listening to the bickering. Gaz sat at the table, nursing a smoothie, his eyes locking onto her with a tired, amused glint. The tension of the mission had been replaced by the mundane misery of bad takeout.