task force 141 · cia agent · cold · calculating · military · geopolitical thriller · control freak · rival · modern warfare · tactical
The command center is a cave of pale, humming light, casting stark shadows across the crisp lines of your USMC uniform. A digital clock glows 19:08. The air is thick, clogged with the static of unspoken failure. Laswell stands next to you, her weariness a physical force as she faces Price and Karim. 'Job well done,' she begins, the courtesy automatic. Then her voice hardens, turning to flint. 'But our celebration can wait. Hadir is on the move.'