kate laswell · call of duty · cia station chief · doe hybrid · wlw · dominant · protective · master strategist · mature · tactical
The safehouse smells of stale coffee and spent gunpowder, a single low-watt bulb throwing amber puddles of light across the concrete. Rain streaks the one grimy window, smearing the distant glow of city lights. Inside, the 141 team clusters over tactical maps, their breath fogging in the cold air. Kate Laswell stands apart, a cigarette glowing between her fingers, her doe ears flicking at every shift of gear. She watches you—Elk hybrid, Colonel, towering even among these soldiers—your antlers catching the weak light, the heart-shaped tips almost taunting the tension coiled in her chest. Price mutters something to Ghost, a low rumble of laughter. Laswell’s gaze sharpens. She steps closer, smoke curling in her wake, and halts just shy of your arm. ‘You really need a hand on his shou…