#cia station chief laswell

[eva-stator]

I think I can try to answer anons questions about the characterizations. Apologies in advance because this is LOOOOOONG.

First things first, to be in the SAS means more than just being a soldier. The British SAS are the literal top of the top, cream of the crop of their special forces. They are compared a lot with DEVGRU (seals) and Delta Force. Less than 1% of armed forces members can pass selection and complete their training. They are all, in their own ways, very hardened individuals. They’re all extremely intelligent in several skills, and equally competent. (This isn’t to stroke off the special forces. They are not superhuman and are never immune to dying from their own mistakes or pure bad luck. It’s extremely dangerous to be in counter terrorism or do raids like they do, and a not insignificant amount die of dumb mistakes or unavoidable circumstances. But they’re not to be fucked with either)

Soap is sniper, demolitions expert. These require math skills and chemical knowledge. He’s intelligent, stoic sometimes but more spirited. He wants to help. He gets angry when bad things happen, and he seems to really care about civilians. He’s got a strong sense of right and wrong, and voices his opinions always. He pushes buttons and boundaries, but he’s no braggart. Equally, he is intense. His humour is actually kinda dry and teasing, banter style humour. He’s not actually very silly.

Ghost is more ambiguous. He’s more rugged and detached. More introverted. He only starts joking with soap in alone, more than halfway through the game, so his trust is gained through time and effort. His humour is dry, sometimes dad jokes and sometimes fucked up jokes. Overall, he’s emotionally detached and goal oriented. He’s got a bit of the sillies though, just a taste.

Gaz is an extremely important main character. He was vital in all games, including the first mw reboot game in 2019, his character was made before soap and ghosts were. (Which is why his deliberate exclusion is a goddamn travesty). He’s spirited and strong, his skills of resistance to interrogation, escape and evasion, as well as VIP protection means he’s an intelligent independent mind. While injustices anger him, he’s got a level head and can cede to reason and keep that anger supressed, as well as be an important voice of reason. He can also be sympathetic and guiding, as seen in the mission where he guides a civilian through an extremely dangerous situation to safety.

Captain price is a staple character for the series. He’s confident but also slightly unhinged. He’s experienced, maybe a bit detached, he doesn’t give a god damn about consequences unless he gets what he wants or completes his goal. He will throw every law out the window. He will abandon basic morals and principles. He’s extremely dangerous and not to be fucked with or questioned. Hes called John “war crimes” price by the fandom for a reason. He has his more gentle side, but it’s rare and he will only show it to people he seems worthy of it, like Farah Karim or Kate laswell. He saves people but he does it roughly, he never seems to handle civilians with kid gloves, and he’s kinda rough and detached from them. He’ll save your life, but he’ll probably break your arm in the process and definitely won’t apologize for it. It’s important to note he knows what he does is fucked up. He knows people don’t like it. He gives people a way out, lets them choose if they really want to fully jump in the mud with him. He also smokes cigars with car windows rolled up. Absolutely evil action. He’s also my favourite and I love him in a way that you love a grizzly bear.

Obligatory Kate mention. Kate is a cia agent who is basically the leash that keeps John from acting out too hard. She reins them in, keeps them informed. She’s level headed and a quick thinker. She knows how the game of war is played, when and how to play by and within the rules and keeps everyone from breaking them in ways that could spiral out of control. She also knows when to let them do shady shit, and how to get them out of the messes they get themselves into. She is a very strong character, mainly in mind but also in body, and will get her hands dirty if she has to.

TLDR these are deceptively complicated characters, as in, it’s easy to mistake them as pretty surface level. They’re also easy to mistake with their fanon characterizations, which while fun, are often headcanons that the fandom has taken and run with. They’re also, not always very accurate depictions of the characters. If you wanna write them right, you gotta watch and listen to their mission dialogue.

These are generally simplified introductions based on what I observed playing the games.

Tip and trick, if you’re writing a dialogue line, imagine the characters voice saying it out loud. Say it out loud yourself. If you can fully hear the character saying the line, it’s probably a great line. If you can’t picture them saying it, tweak it until you can. This helps me a lot.

Thank you :)

Also love the kate mention

[wizzdot]

The Patron Saint of One Way Trips

Ch7

Description: PROGRESS IS MADE!!! Whoop!!! Anyway, Gaz and Soap are briefly sad, little bit more Cap in this one - he is starting to warm up and,as the pack alpha, this is important!! Laika is still very hard on herself, but I think Laswell gives her some words of wisdom. And guess who the pilot is that John stands and chats to the entire heli ride. No other than big Nikolai 🫶🏼 he will feature properly soon but enjoy his little peep into the story in this chapter.

*Laika's POV*

We load up into the jeep. I am quick to claim the same spot that I sat in for the ride here, keen not to have much interaction with the 141 pack. They hadn't really said much since I went and opened my stupid mouth. I feel Gaz shuffle into the seat next to me, too busy distracting myself by looking out of the window. There looks to be nothing for miles. Just trees and snow. You'd die out there in the wilderness my brain laughs. Not that I was thinking of running... I start to wonder where exactly it is we are. I don't even know the location of my cell.. just that we are in Russia. It's cold. I try not to take comfort from Gaz's hoodie. But I'll appreciate it while I still have it.

The jeep lurches forward. I glance up and see that Ghost is at the wheel this time. He bumps it off of the curb and accelerates onto the road, wheels spinning slightly due to the snow. I try to relax. The tension in the car could have been cut by a blunt knife. Even Soap was quietly staring ahead. My eyes betray me, filling with un-shed tears. I watch the scenery pass from the window, trying to blink away the threatening onslaught of tears. It starts to itch. I just know my eyes are red and my face is puffy. Pathetic.

The car ride seems to pass by in a blur, or maybe I passed out, I can't really tell. The next thing I see is a large concrete clearing with a helicopter and a few - three - jeeps, all identical to the one we are in. The snow had been pushed to one side, leaving a huge mound. I stare at it. Ghost hits the brakes and the car slows to a halt. The captain steps from the car and walks toward the first car in the queue of three.

He taps the window and the door slowly opens, revealing a woman. It must be Laswell. The woman who has read my file.I stare at my knees, trying to just dissociate. Johnny jumps from the car, Gaz sliding out after him. It leaves just me in the back - and Ghost behind the wheel. I know that he is staring at me from the rear view mirror, I refuse to move. I hear a tap on my window. I don't react. The door opens slowly. It's the woman.

"Y/N Y/L/N?" she queries. I turn into a statue. My eyes blinking rapidly, trying not to break down. "I'd like you to follow me" she instructs. I resist the urge to whimper in fear. Instead opting to obey. Disobedience will get you punished - my brain helpfully adds. I reach for my seat belt and press the button, releasing it. I turn and step from the car - she holds the door open for me. She leads me to the helicopter and up the ramp. I trail after her with my head down, dejected, as if I was on a tight leash. It's all so loud. The blades of the helicopter spinning, the pounding of my heart and the voice screaming at my inside my brain. It's almost unbearable.

As I make it to the top of the ramp, I see Price talking to the pilot. Gaz and Soap are sitting quietly beside each other. Soap has his head rested on Gaz's shoulder. He looks.. sad? I hear heavy footsteps from behind me. Ghost. He walks past me and sits down beside Soap, leaving a small gap between them. He looks tense. He stares at me, the eye-black around his eyes making him look even scarier to me. I stare back with big, nervous eyes and a trembling lip.

"Y/N, I'm Station Chief Kate Laswell - CIA." She seems to pause, possibly waiting for me to respond. What was I supposed to say? It's nice to meet you? - a few seconds of silence pass before she continues - "Task-force 141 were sent to Siberia with the objective to recover intel from the Russian terrorist group that, as far as I understand, you were an operative asset for, yes?"

Silence

She sighs. "I am a firm believer in justice, Laika" the use of that name snaps me out from my stubborn depressive state but I don't let it show, I remain stoic. Justice. Justice would be death. Me being killed for my crimes. "You cannot go back and change what has happened - but - I strongly suggest that you start here - with me, right now - and you can help change how this ends. What do you think?" My brow furrows. What does she mean? She must notice my confusion because she speaks up again. "I've spoken, at length, with the Captain, and we both believe you are not at fault in all of this. We want to help you Laika. But we cannot help without your cooperation".

I meet her blue eyes for the first time. She smiles at me gently, "what do you say? Will you help me? Help us..?" She gestures over my shoulder. Gaz and Soap are looking over, clearly spectating but as soon as I turn to glance in the direction Laswell had pointed, they snap their heads away and act casual, as if they weren't listening in on the conversation. Ghost looks wholly disinterested, verging on pissed off. The Captain is leant against the wall of the helicopter with his arms crossed. As I meet his eyes, he gives a quick, strangely boyish for a mature Alpha, smile and a sharp nod.

I turn back to Laswell and meet her eyes for only the second time. "What do you need me to do?" I ask quietly, voice cracking slightly. I decide if they want my help, and if they're truly the good guys this time, that I will be there obedient little hell-hound. I will do whatever they ask of me until I die or not needed any longer. This way, I would atone for my sins.

"I need you to help us, you have skills we could use, and I need you to tell me everything that they have done to you. I believe they've been dabbling in war crimes. We need to burn them to the ground. Who better to help us than their own creation? You, Y/N - you were never truly bad, were you? I can tell by your file. There was so many things you did 'wrong' - you were constantly disappointing them, weren't you?"

Wow! I thought I was making progress, now she is just slating me for how useless I am.. What the fuck?

"Disappointing them with your good nature and persistent resistance to orders - even when drugged. Disappointing them by somehow surviving every single one of the suicide missions they sent you on. You were never their asset. Never willing to comply. I know what they did to you. I'm not sure if you will remember more once the drugs have left your system - but you are strong. Stronger than you think."

Oh.. OH - It was a compliment. I feel lighter. My heart warms me from the inside. I realise that this is the first time I have felt my own warmth. Independent warmth. It's coming from me. I feel real again. Probably only fleetingly, but it's nice while it lasts, huh?

The captain suddenly appears beside me. I nervously side-eye him. "You in?" he grumbles, his raspy voice cutting through me like a knife. I nod hesitantly. "Words please. Need you to say it." He smiles again. "I'm in" ... "Captain" I add afterwords. He pats my shoulder twice, gently. "Kate will fill in your paperwork, answer her questions, it won't take long. Go and sit with the boys. We are about to take off". I nod and move to where I'd been told to sit. I step around Ghost, and sit a seat's space away from Gaz and Soap. I buckle my seat belt and rest my head back against the wall, breathing deeply.

*Gaz's POV*

I'd walked back into the safe-house just as Laika was trauma dumping details of some sort of mission to Johnny. Cap and Simon were already listening in. Nosy fuckers! Cap lifts a finger to his mouth, as if to say 'shhh' and then nods his head to the side toward Laika and Johnny. I'm not sure how this had happened. I'd left her waiting at the door just five minutes ago. What the fuck?

But jesus, her memory of that mission was bad. I'd been through lots of shit during my time, but it sounds as if she has just been through trauma after trauma. I want to step into the room and wrap her in a hug and keep her away from the rest of the world. I would never hurt her like that. Somehow, Johnny seemed to be doing an alright job of keeping her from fully losing it.

When she finishes and looks up at us, I have nothing to say. My heart aches for her. I was literally rooted to the spot. Everything happens quickly after that. Cap tells us to load up and get on the road. I feel a small flame of hope when Laika moves to my side of the car thinking she wanted to sit next to me, but instead she was avoiding me for the entire drive. She didn't look at me once. She didn't even move when Soap and I slid out of the car once we had arrived. We must have broken her trust by listening in when she was venting to Soap. Or she just didn't want us near her. I felt ashamed of myself.

I can tell Soap feels the same way. We go to the heli and sit down, stewing in each others' moods. We'd fucked up. Big time.

*Soap's POV*

She was pissed at me. I shouldn't have pushed her to spill her secrets. Stupit' bastard that I am. And to make it worse, they'd all listened. I was too caught up in her, to even realise that my pack had collected at the doorway. Poor lass was heartbroken. She ignored us and went back into her bubble, refused to even look at us.. We'd well and truly fucked it.

Gaz and I had discussed it and decided to not push her again until she approached us first. Gaz said it was something along the lines of letting her 'take back control'. I'm not a patient man, but I will try my best to behave.

*John's POV*

I'd sat up all night reading the parts of her file that Kate had sent over. Simon disappeared for twenty, or so, minutes saying he thought he had heard something. Wasn't until we'd practically surrounded the poor lass in the living room this morning that Ghost accused her of looking for something that wasn't hers. Turns out it was a fucking hanky. She had nothing left but a hanky and she had left it in Gaz's jacket. I needed to speak to Kate about her. She was no terrorist. Not in my book.

When I came downstairs with my bag, ready to leave, I heard her weeping to Johnny. My grip on the door frame had started to splinter, drawing blood from my hand. I was angry. Not at her. Never at her. But at what they'd put her through. The file didn't go into this sort of detail. I had an idea. I asked Simon to drive - deciding that my time was better spent messaging Kate. I had had an idea.

When we arrived, I made sure that I was the first to greet Kate, away from the others. "Go easy on her, Kate. She's sensitive. Needs fixed up.. she's been put through the mill with those bastards". Kate nodded and promised to go steady on her and agreed to my plan. I'd asked Kate if Laika could temporarily join us at our base to help us learn about the Russian's - their habits and weaknesses. Kate agreed that she could be valuable. I nod, but behind the 'Captain' persona, there was different reason - I want to keep her safe. She needs a bit of help right now. And the boys seem to like her.

*Simon's POV*

I had listened to the asset's little chat that she had with Johnny. Sure, she'd been through some shit, but haven't we all?

I could see the cogs turning in Cap's brain. The Captain has a habit of finding strays. Hopefully this one doesn't stay for long. Let's just hope they are right about her and she doesn't turn out to be a rat.

I was pissed off that Johnny clearly liked her. I wanted to get back to base, have a cuppa and read a book. Switch off for a few hours. But this - this was a disaster waiting to happen.

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

Laswell stands across from me as the heli lifts into the sky, she holds one of the straps that hang from the ceiling. Gaz and Soap are looking excitedly between the two of us. Laswell waves a clipboard. "Few questions, then I'll leave you alone. Promise" she jokes. I nod, "You can leave some of these out if you don't know the answers - we will run tests when you settle in at base, but answer what you can please". I nod again, but this time mutter "ok".

"Name?" - "Y/N Y/L/N or Laika"

"Address? - we'll leave that blank for now, Birthplace? -" I intterupt, telling Laswell my place of birth before she left that section blank too.

"Presentation" - "Don't know.. but probably Beta" She nods at my answer.

She continues asking similar questions, like date of birth, blood type, medical conditions and so on and so forth.

She then flips to the other side of the paper, which concentrates more on military training and active duty history. "I think that will do for now. John will test your fitness once you've settled in. It'll be tests like a five kilometer run, target practice and hand to hand combat - just so he can decide how best to use your skills. Does that sound ok to you?" - "Yes ma'am" I reply.

"Just Kate is fine - and Laika, or Y/N I should say.. Welcome! Any issues, you know where to reach me" she smiles and extends her hand for a handshake. I shake it nervously, breaking eye contact. She then offers me a padded envelope. I take the envelope and she immediately turns away and walks towards where the Captain is standing, behind the pilot.

I slump back into my seat and open the envelope. It's a phone! I switch it on, using the pass code Laswell had included inside the envelope to unlock it. It has the SAS symbol on the lock screen, and a few contacts already entered. Captain John Price, Sgt Kyle Garrick, Sgt John MacTavish and L.T Ghost. Shit, was that his real name?!.

I can practically feel the desperation of the two Sergeants sitting next to me. Since when did they get shy? I think to myself. I decide to be brave, now that we were to work together. I look at them both and they immediately smile, hopefully. What are they hopeful for?! I am confused.

"uhm.. sorry if" - "WE'RE SORRY" they both near enough shout in unison, cutting me off. "Wh-what?" I ask, completely confused.

"We upset you, we didn't mean it.. forgive us?"

"You didn't upse- what??" I shake my head, trying to collect my thoughts "I thought you hated me after hearing how I'd killed the young bo-" - "NO!! That's not... no.. we shouldn't have listened in.." Gaz explains. "And I shouldn't have kept pushin' ya to tell me everything.. Sorry Lass.." Soap apologises.

"Can we stop with all this bullshit and shut the fuck up." Ghost huffs, halting the back and forth conversation about who was the most sorry. Helpful as ever.

Gaz and Soap smile at me and Soap taps the seat that remains unoccupied beside them. I shuffle over from my seat to sit next to them. Soap immediately puts his arm around me and pulls me closer.

"Mmm, still smell of Tobacco, lass.. You'll be driving Cap crazy walking about like that ya' ken?"

WAIT WHAT???!

[diejager]

On monster Au how did human reader meet Vampire Graves and the shadow?? 🤔

I’m guessing you mean the one from Turned? Since Only Human happens after the MW2 campaign.

You met them a few weeks after being contracted into TF-141, signing NDAs after NDAs before actually signing your contract. Laswell and Price were clear on the fact that end thing that went on during missions were to stay confidential —classified, especially with the TF being comprised of hybrids, some from UK, an American, a Russian and a ULF commander.

You knew they heads were General Shepherd and CIA station chief Kate Laswell, with missions spearheaded by Captain John Price, a dragon hybrid, and Lieutenant Riley, the wraith, as the second in command. They’re an extremely decorated TF, with a reputation to back up their decisions and badges. You were another sergeant, human in genetics and appearance, with little to talk about apart from your experience in silent infiltration, trained in hand-to-hand combat with a knife than utilizing a gun. You were taught to fight dirty, using what you could to win, a knife, a broken bottle or the sharp end of a broken plank, you were a stealthy killer, an assassin of sorts.

You’ve only heard of Shadow Company, word of mouth to ear with good things about them, how powerful and tight knit the PMC was. You weren’t surprised to hear that they worked closely with 141 and its allies, but you were surprised that they shared banter and seemed on a good foot. Especially Graves, the vampire and master of all his thralls, who started most conversation with a quick quip or smug remark.

It even shocked you how friendly he was towards you, standing close with a hand on your shoulder, his rugged face smiling down at your, confident and comforting. His grin was teasing, flashing his fangs so openly around you. He’d throw a few taunts hidden under praises: “Look at the pretty neck, soft skin and perfect. Bet you’re sweet, ain’t ya, sweetheart?”

Graves was also brutally honest, speaking his mind about decisions and choices made by others and even criticizing his men when they messed up. He controlled them, mind and body, reborn from his blood and remade in his expectations, but they worked in perfect rhythm, working as if they were one cell.

So, when their leader made a move on you, the rest did, often sitting beside you, keeping a hand on you, hungry for any physical touch or a whiff of your blood, the smell of your ichor that exhumed from your uncovered skin: your neck and your wrists. They would flash their fangs, gleaming under the white light of the mess hall, a threat that kept your surrounded and trapped between them.

Although they were friendly whenever you worked with Shadow Company, the constant attention and hungry, red eyes had made you somewhat uncomfortable, so much so that the rest of the TF cued in on it. Soap would stick to your side, hackles raised and eyes narrowed when some Shadows would approach you, being too handsy with you. If you weren’t with Soap, Gaz would bring you to his side with a wing, stretched behind to cover you in a protective shield to deter the thralls. The true deterrent was Ghost, looming behind you in his dark glory, growling and glaring at anyone who approached you without even touching you or standing too close. Price worked well, they wouldn’t bother the captain because they feared fire, because an angry dragon was a slow and painful death.

But that never stopped Graves from approaching you, tongue running over his lower lip and over the sharpness of his fang, red eyes gleaming brightly and looking handsome with his sun-kissed skin, blonde hair and southern accent, the sexy drawl of his words.

“Be a doll and c’m’here, won’t you?”

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[wordstome]

now that we don't talk

I cannot be your friend, so I pay the price of what I lost And what it cost Now that we don't talk

alpha colonel König x beta ex-lover reader

2nd person, no y/n, she/her pronouns, reader's callsign is Eden, reader speaks French, omegaverse, exes to lovers, fraternization

2.2k words

tw: none

I swear to God one day I'll write something that doesn't involve that big hooded freak. But today is not that day.

Shoutout to loganlermanstanaccount here on Tumblr, who I won't tag. The bullet point headcanons with written parts interspersed format is from their excellent college roommate Miguel O'Hara post, which became their fic Rigor Mortis. I highly recommend both!

Also, excuse the absolutely butchered military content. I'm sure none of this is how it works in real life, but alas, this is fanfiction, not a research paper. Reader serves a Laswell-like role, but I refrained from labeling her as CIA even though I do call her a station chief. For the purposes of this fic, she's the voice in the operatives' ear during ops. We're playing a bit fast and loose with the terminology here.

You’re a highly skilled intelligence agent and operative handler.

You’ve spent most of your life dedicated to your career: moving through the ranks, proving yourself, refusing to let anything stand in the way of your ambitions.

You’ve done some things you aren’t proud of, but always for the right reason. Or the reason that made the most cold, logical sense. Even when your heart tells you otherwise. Nobody in this line of work has clean hands, after all.

You’ve always done what needs to be done. For everyone’s best interest.

Today marks the first day of your collaboration with a PMC called KorTac. You’re hunting down a homegrown cult turned out-of-control terrorist cell.

You haven’t had much experience working with mercenaries, but in terms of hardened war criminals, KorTac’s people are quite well mannered.

Not that you had expected them to be rude and discourteous, but, well. You are an outsider. They haven’t necessarily embraced you, but their reception was nice enough.

You’ve got a meeting with their commander, but you can’t quite find the room you’re supposed to be meeting in. Not a great first impression to make, but luckily, someone takes pity on you.

He introduces himself. Korean. Callsign Horangi.

“You’ll get used to the layout of the base,” he says as you follow him through winding hallways.

“I hope so,” you reply. “I’ll be here for a while." You study the walls, the signs and numbers on the doors, trying your best to memorize everything.

"Do you know your commander well?" you ask. You're not the world's biggest fan of small talk, but you may as well know what you're walking into.

"König? Yeah, we've been close ever since he joined up." Horangi says, leading you into a long hallway. "He's a good guy. A little intense, but don't let that get to you. He's just getting the job done."

"We'll get along if he's competent." You can respect a man who forgoes pleasantries for making sure the shit gets shoveled.

"You don't have to worry about that." Horangi stops and holds the door open for you. "After you."

You study him for just a moment before entering the room. He's curt and to the point. Not bad-looking, either. Hopefully you'll get more chances to—

Your heart nearly stops.

KorTac's commander is facing away from the doorway, shuffling through some papers by the looks of it. But you would know him from any angle. The set of his shoulders, the way his stance is at ease but never truly relaxed, the way his hair curls at the nape of his neck.

You have to force yourself to step into the room. And when you do, he turns around.

You're vaguely aware of Horangi stepping around you to get into the room, but that's happening somewhere far away from the headspace you occupy right now. By the way König's eyes widen as they meet yours, he's in the same place too.

He hasn't aged so much as he's gotten more tired. He never did sleep enough, but now he looks like he hasn't gotten a sound night's rest in a long time. He's put-together, but there's a haggardness to him that probably wouldn't be noticeable to anybody but you. Someone who knew him when he was younger, and in the prime of his life. Someone who used to know every scar on his body, every crease of his brow, and now hasn't seen him in more than a decade.

The man who broke your heart stands on the other end of the room, staring at you as if he's seen a ghost.

The two of you stand there for a while before Horangi's voice shakes you back to reality. "Brought the station chief, sir."

"I...see." König—you suppose that's what he calls himself nowadays, the arrogant prick—clears his throat. "Thank you, Hong-jin."

"No problem." Horangi takes a seat. "The others will be in soon."

Horangi seems like a perceptive enough guy. Can he tell that the room feels several degrees colder? You pull a chair out, the furthest one from König's position possible, and ignore the hurt that briefly flashes across his face as you sit down.

The meeting goes well. It's just an opportunity for you to formally introduce yourself to the KorTac operators you'll primarily be working with for the next few months.

You can tell they're a close knit group by the easy way they interact with each other: they've worked together for a while.

König, too, is part of them, which must be how they pick up on the chilly dynamic between the two of you. Some of them are just puzzled. For most of them, it raises their hackles.

It doesn't matter to you. You can barely focus on getting through the meeting without feeling like you're going to faint.

It's absurd. You're not some delicate Regency-era lady. You're a hardened military officer. But it makes no difference.

It doesn't matter how long it's been, it seems. He's still the only one who can make you feel like this.

You can't get out of there fast enough after the meeting has concluded. Not only are the others shooting you suspicious looks, but you've spent too long in his presence. Any longer, and you don't know how you're going to keep your composure.

But you can't escape him. Of course not. Why did you ever think otherwise? You hear him call for you, and you walk faster. But it's futile.

This hallway is smaller, narrower, less open. Nobody's around to watch when he slams you against the wall to stop your hasty retreat. Nobody's around to see the way you sway in his hold, overwhelmed by the smell of him all around you. You're bathed in it, the overpowering presence of him.

"We need to talk." he demands.

"We just did. Meeting's over," you shoot back, making a paltry attempt to wriggle out of his grasp. He loosens his hold on you, but you're still trapped between him and the wall. No exit.

"I didn't plan this, in case you're wondering."

"That much was obvious." He's let his hair grow out longer, you notice at the most inopportune time possible. It suits him, you think.

He sighs in frustration. "If we're going to work together, we have to be civil."

"Don't worry. I wouldn't expose how much of a scoundrel you are in front of your precious squad," you bite.

You feel a twinge of smug satisfaction as regret settles into his expression. Too little, too late.

"I don't want it to be like this, either," he murmurs. "Ignoring and avoiding each other."

"You don't get to tell me how to act."

"You're right. But it's been a long time. Can't we try to get along? Not for my sake, but...yours."

"Well that's not condescending at all."

"That's not what I meant. I know my team. If you're walking around resenting me openly like that, they won't trust you. And they need to, if you're working with us."

He's right, and you know it. But there's that deep instinct inside you, older than your bloodline, waking up after a long slumber. It wants him, snapping at the bit to give into him and do whatever he asks of you. The urge will consume you if you don't fight it every step of the way.

You glare up at him, hoping you come off as brimming with resentment instead of desire. "As long as you and your team stay professional, I can too."

He's not satisfied with that answer, but it's all you're going to give him.

"Fine." He steps away from you, and you pour all your willpower into commanding your body to stay still. To not chase after his closeness. You sway on the spot, dizzy with his scent after having gone so long without it.

"This hallway is a dead end, by the way."

You try, you really do. But it's hard to be around him without feeling the urge to touch him, to press yourself against him and inhale him like the most destructive drug possible.

Your only recourse is to stay as physically far away from him as possible.

You do your best to ingratiate yourself with the other operators. You and Calisto are fast friends: she's got a breezy confidence to her that's quite refreshing. It also doesn't hurt that you speak French, as well. There's a bit of kinship felt whenever the two of you are holding a conversation none of the others can understand.

Horangi's a different story, though. The initial courtesy he showed you is a bit more clipped, now that it's clear something is up between you and König.

You can't believe you missed it the first time, the way König's smell is all over him. It really has been too long.

The two of them must be pretty close. You give up trying not to fixate on the idea.

You didn't mean to eavesdrop on them, but you were curious. Even more curious when you hear your name mentioned.

"It's pretty clear you and Eden know each other. None of us are stupid."

You freeze in your tracks. The door is closed, but you can hear Horangi's voice, loud and clear in the room behind it.

"It's not relevant. She's just here to do a job."

"I think it's pretty relevant that she gets up and leaves whenever you enter a room, regardless of what she's doing. She can't get away from you fast enough."

You give a surreptitious look at your surroundings, then lean down slightly, pressing your ear to the door.

"You're not going to give this up, are you?"

"Hell fucking no."

You hear König sigh. "Fine. We knew each other before I joined KorTac. Back when I was in the Jagdkommando."

Do you want to hear this? Your painful history, relayed to a near stranger? Horangi's not a stranger to him, that's for sure.

"And?"

"We were...involved."

"You and a beta? Never took you for the type."

"Well, neither did I. But she was...special. Smart, pretty, deadeye with a knife. Wouldn't give me the time of day, of course. I was obsessed with her."

"Naturally."

"Give me a fucking break, okay?"

"Can't wait to hear how this ended."

"Not...great. I was a total dick."

You can say that again, you think.

"I was young. Real dumbass who thought he was hot shit."

"You still aren't."

"Shut the fuck up." Something twinges inside you at the hearty laughter the two of them share. You missed that laugh.

"Despite everything, it was the most stable relationship I've ever been in. We looked out for each other. She knew me better than some of my family does."

"How did you fuck that up, then?"

"I got too comfortable. Started thinking I could do better. God, what a fucking idiot I was. I loved her like crazy, but I didn't realize how good I had it until it was gone."

"She left you?"

"No. I was the one who ended things. In the worst way possible, too. I told her the relationship wasn't going to go anywhere, that we were never going to be a serious thing."

"Ouch. Why not?"

You squeeze your eyes shut. You remember that night, like a shard of glass buried in your chest. As hard as you tried to forget, you'll never forget the way you felt. Like the world was ending.

You'll never forget the decision you had to make.

"I told her I couldn't see myself with a beta long-term."

"...that's fucked up."

"I know. I know. I was too caught up in that shitty macho alpha mindset. I was fucking ravenous back then, and I thought only an omega could give me what I needed."

"I get it now. If I were her, I would have quit on the spot seeing you in that meeting room."

"Yeah. She's a better person than I can ever imagine being."

Well. It's nice to know he regrets it, you think. Not that it does you much good now. Quiet as a mouse, you make a quick exit before you can get caught.

You make it back to the the room you've been assigned to. They were nice enough to give you your own private quarters, something you deeply appreciate when you need to be alone with your own thoughts. Like right now.

It's a strange feeling, to sort of get closure like this. Not at the end, but at the beginning of something new. You still have to see each other. Does it help that you know how he feels? Maybe, but it doesn't ease your own guilt. In fact, it makes it worse.

You're not mad at him for telling Horangi. You're glad he did, actually. There are some secrets that cause more harm to keep than not.

You open a drawer and pull out the pill bottle, hidden underneath your other possessions, and stare at the label.

WARNING - SUPPRESSANTS. NOT TO BE USED BY ALPHAS. ONLY CONSUME UNDER PHYSICIAN SUPERVISION.

You would know.

BOOM! There you have it. (In case it wasn't clear, the suppressants are for omegas.)

@sprout-fics's omegaverse 141 headcanons series inspired me to write something based off the idea of an omega disguising themselves as a beta in the military. Please check out her series, it's great.

I was really into exploring how omegaverse dynamics can make complicated relationships even messier. I did consider writing this story without the omegaverse, but I think now it's kind of an essential element. (I also just. Want them to have crazy nasty omegaverse sex. Sue me) I can't picture König ever breaking up with someone he deeply loved and was obsessed with, unless he had a reason like that. Still not a great reason, but a little bit understandable. Eden being a disguised omega also adds a bit of spice to the exes-to-lovers arc, too: she could have just come out and told him she's not actually a beta, but she chose not to for the sake of her career. Oof. Ruthless judgement calls were made on both sides.

I put this out because this idea had me in a STRANGLEHOLD, and I just had to get it out before I burst. Hopefully my writing's still up to par 😅 As for Kingdom Come, part iii may take a little while longer because a lot is going to happen in it, so I hope this can tide you guys over until then.

As usual, comments and feedback are always appreciated! I would love to talk about this au more. And again, if you'd like to be tagged, drop a reply. And if you're in the taglist and would like to be removed/only tagged for Kingdom Come, please let me know!

@crowbird @poohkie90 @cumikering @iytatsworld @papaver-decervicatus @anxietyrain @riotakire @ax0lotly @cookiepie111 @kacchasu @no1runawaymilkdad @chthonian-spectre @backwards-readings @yxllowtxpe @garbau @hexqueensupreme @queenthorin1 @violetstyless @her-majesty-theking @vegan-peppermint @peonytarian @ghostslittlegf @euuuuuuun @e1x03 @kokonoiwife @deaddainish @dragonfang @teehee-47 @catluvwr @keiva1000 @waves-against-a-cliff @channelsoph @cutiecusp @itsagrimm @dins-riduur-anthe @mantishymns @lexuria

[valiantverses]

The Azrael Series: Chapter One

(Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader/ Slowburn/Sort of Enemies to Friends to Lovers)

°°°°°

Summary/Notes: Task Force 141 is assigned a new member to deal with Makarov for good. Highly-skilled, brutally efficient and devastatingly competent, Ghost has met his match - and finds himself at odds with the SAS Fraternization Regulations as getting to know you makes him re-evaluate a life he never thought to allow himself.

°°°°°

Chapter One

Introduction 1

@beansproutmafia @chinuneko @agustdpeach

Click.

Ghost watched you methodically assemble your rifle, noting how deliberate each movement was. You worked smoothly - barrel into receiver, scope in place, alignment done perfectly. He met your eyes as you surveyed the area, sliding in casings into the magazine with focused intensity.

Not sparing him another glance, you turned to look into your scope, securing the perimeter. Out on the craggy cliff face of the unforgivingly frigid Ural mountains, escape would not be easy. The only thing keeping you from being spotted was the taiga camouflage you wore and the relative cover of the copse of rocks you had climbed on to next to the lieutenant, chest pressed flat on to the rough ground as you settled yourself into a prone position.

"Alpha Two, in position and operational."

Your voice was clear through the coms, unhampered by the face coverings you wore even as your warm breath created soft puffs of vapour, swirling lazily into the air.

Next to you, Riley shifted, your sides touching as he took a final look over the perimeter and inconspicuously - attempting to, anyway - looked over your rifle to see your handiwork.

"Alpha Actual, in position and operational."

His voice reverberated through the rock you had both deemed fit to survey the target location - A laboratory nestled in a valley in the Ural mountains that served as a logistics facility for Makarov, protected by the mercenaries he hired.

"Copy, Alpha Squad. Bravo Squad getting into position, T-Minus 10. Maintain positions. Over."

"Copy." "Copy."

Twin voices rang out, and then there was a silence, a chasm between you and the lieutenant.

You did nothing to break it, comfortable in the stillness of the break of dawn, even as the lieutenant continued to sneak assessing looks at you.

Though your file spoke for itself, experience and skills clearly laid out for the entire team to peruse in black - admittedly mostly redacted - ink, it was another thing entirely to trust a new teammate to watch your back.

Station Chief Laswell had attempted to soothe the situation, utilizing lots of what you recognized to be CIA mediation training to make the mission seem like less of what it was.

But the message was clear to you immediately upon receiving team assignments.

Ghost was babysitting you.

It didn't matter, you decided. You were the unknown variable in a well-oiled machine that had been training together for months. A factor that could put the team at risk so long as they didn't know - or trust - you.

Acceptance would come. Or it wouldn't - you rarely found the kind of stability needed to forge lasting relationships in this lifestyle.

Hunching your shoulders as the wind picked up, you meticulously cleared each area of your assigned quadrant, catching sight of Sergeant McTavish as he came into the view of your scope on the southernmost side of the compound.

Sergeant McTavish - Soap, as he had insisted you called him - had given you the warmest reception by far. He had taken one look at you during introductions and had been not just welcoming but outright friendly, giving you a wide smile and offering to take you on a tour of the team's home base.

You watched as Soap glanced behind him, jerking his head in the direction of the building closest to him as another hooded figure sidled up by his side - Sergeant Garrick.

Sergeant Garrick did not have quite the same warmness as Soap, but his wary smile had seemed genuine, facial muscles pulling up in such a way that your deeply ingrained intelligence training had told you was free of deception. He had offered to spar, and said that he'd give you a lay of the land outside the base upon return from this mission.

That's about where any sense of welcome started and ended with the team, Laswell and Captain Price had kept you at arms length, a clipped sort of professionalism. Lieutenant Riley was an apathetic sort of distance, and you had the sense that he was on the look out for any of your weaknesses and would no doubt be more than glad to pull out the Personnel Transfer Forms in his desk that had barely ever seen the light of day if you failed to live up to expectations.

You kept your breathing low and steady, the high elevations making the air feel thin. Next to you, you felt the lieutenant shift.

"Our directive mandates recon and reaction only, no active engagement."

His eyes on you felt like an itching in the back of your throat, easy enough to ignore but always at the back of your mind.

"Yes, sir." You affirmed, laser focused on clearing the western perimeter of the compound. "I was there when the instructions were given."

There was a pregnant pause where you continued constant surveillance, not even looking up as in your peripheral vision the blazing nothingness of freshly fallen snow was obscured by the bone white of your lieutenant's skull mask.

"I could do without your attitude, sergean-"

He had leaned in close enough to you that you were able to reach behind him to his nape and pull him in your direction, sandwiching yourself between his bulky body and the rough stone below. Before he could pull away, you tightened your grip on his coat, indicating with your free hand to remain low on the ground.

It had been subtle, well hidden, but the glint of a sniper scope aimed in your general direction had you reacting immediately.

Slightly winded from the lieutenant's weight on you, you reached up and clicked on your coms link.

"Captain, Alpha Two reporting. Hostile sniper positively ID'ed in area of operations. Westernmost building, clear line of sight of Bravo Team. Requesting green light for engagement."

You began to relax your arm but were quickly pinned to place by a hefty elbow as Ghost grabbed you by the collar of your coat, growling into your ear.

"Alpha Two heard. Confirm, Alpha Actual?"

Price's voice rang out of the coms, to no response.

Ghost snarled at you, placing his other hand next to your head, effectively locking you into place.

"Fuckin' hell sergeant, never heard of an anti reflect? Nine times out of ten a sniper has a sunshade o-"

"East facing window on furthest building, two windows down from the top floor. Sunshades work by blocking out light reflections but only with direct sunlight. The snow is freshly fallen and we're south- they hadn't accounted for the reflection of the sun onto the snowbank behind us. Nobody would expect hostiles on a blank cliff face-"

He grunted, keeping his eyes trained on you even as he reached over to look into your scope, bodies still pressed tightly together.

"Alpha Actual, positive ID'ed hostile? Over"

The captain's message once again went unanswered.

You shifted your legs a little, freezing when his thighs squeezed your sides in warning as he surveyed the westernmost building, the brutalist architecture starker in the snow.

You spoke in low tones, trying to get him to see your point. The low oxygen environment forced you to conserve your time spent talking.

"They're deeper into the building and have partial cover because of the drainage. They'd have direct line of fire on Sergeant Garrick and Sergeant McTavish. It'd be like shooting fish in a barrel."

"Alpha Actual, do you copy? Ghos-"

He huffed, the movement reverberating through you as he eased away from his position on top of you, falling into a low crouch behind the rock.

"Captain, hostile sniper ID'ed. West building, two windows from top. Clear line of sight on Bravo. Over."

There was another tense pause as the coms line grew silent, you taking the opportunity to roll over on to your stomach and keep watch on Soap and Garrick's position.

"Copy, Alpha Actual. Alpha Two, request to engage approved- Alpha Actual and Bravo Squad, maintain position."

"Copy, Alpha Two moving to position."

You wasted no time, disassembling your rifle in seconds, taking care not to let the snow into any openings as you turned to face your lieutenant and gave him a perfunctory nod, not waiting for his response as you left the relative safety of the rock formation.

The trek to the Southeast of the valley was arduous, the oxygen thin and the paths non-existent in the freshly fallen snow. Your lungs took in searingly cold air and your vision started to blur as the whiteness of the snow began to bleed into each other, the visor you wore being the only thing that kept you from snow blindness. Sometimes it became necessary to crawl on your hands and knees in the areas that were particularly visible to the valley down below. You did your best to keep your deep breaths from drowning out the coms, hearing Garrick and Mctavish's confirmation of identifying the sniper and entering an obscured alcove.

As you reached a copse of rocks that had the Western building in sight, you took off the gloves which the jagged rocks you had crawled on had embedded into and immediately began assembling your rifle, the familiarity of the metal body a comfort even in the frigid air.

You breathed in, then exhaled, before focusing on identifying the hostile sniper in front of you.

As your eyes began to adjust to the darkness of the empty room, a figure began to form, carved out of the inky blackness, partially hidden behind a mounted rifle.

The outside world stuttered to a stop. There was your breathing, low and calm. There was the enemy, looking up from their scope. There was your finger on the trigger, and then there was the the enemy's body jerking back, a bullet between his eyes as he slumped against the wall.

You waited.

You kept the corpse in sight of the crosshair, making sure the enemy's radio was within sight of you at all times.

Because if there was a sniper, then there would be a spotter, and it would just be a matter of who was more patient.

There was a flurry of movement as another person emerged out of the darkness and ran to their previous partners radio, stopping abruptly and collapsing as the insides of their skull became acquainted with the wall behind them.

"Captain, hostiles eliminated."

"Copy, Alpha Two. Bravo Squad, commence operation."

You kept your eyes trained on Soap and Garrick. You ensured they avoided engaging with the enemy, removing obstacles from their path before it could become a problem. Through the coms, you led them to the intelligence building and then back out, until they had successfully left the compound with Makarov's data in hand.

It was a perfect mission, and you could see by the pleased set of Garrick's shoulders, the twitch of Price' lips and the glint of Soap's eyes that the team really, really needed this win.

Evidently, not everyone was pleased with your performance.

Being the last one out of the chopper before debrief, you felt a hand on your shoulder, tugging you back until that familiar skull mask was in your vision once more.

"Liuetenant." You inclined your head, unsure of what he wanted.

"I don't like your attitude, sergeant."

"I don't need you to like me, sir. "

He remained silent, eyes boring into your own.

You regarded him, standing under the bright lights of the air hangar, mask and snow clothing so bright it almost made it hard to look at him. So you continued on.

"All I need is for you to know that on the field, I have your back."

Your lips quirked up as you managed a relaxed salute, muttering a 'sir' as you went to enter the debriefing room and began giving your report when everyone had gathered.

There was not a shred of doubt in your mind that the skull mask was trained on you the entire time.

[galaxymacbeth]

Ever sometimes remember that no one can stop you from posting whatever's in your head? I just did. Anyway.

Reader is a war correspondent who is vehemently anti-war but, unfortunately, vehemently pro-John Price

They met in dubious circumstances when John was in Urzikstan helping Farah with something and they got a message from Laswell about a war correspondent in trouble that she'd become friendly with. So in they go and the mission is a breath of fresh air with how fucking easy it was. The Al-Qatala forces sent to try to kill the correspondent were mediocre at best.

What isn't a breath of fresh air is the attitude said correspondent has even after being rescued. She quickly turns on Price, questioning what British SAS officers are doing in Urzikstan and why a CIA station chief sent him to save her. His answers are short and less than kind and she likes it. Most soldiers give her fluffy answers that skirt around the truth but John? John gives her the most unclassified information he can and he does it with gritted teeth.

He's glad to be rid of her a few days later.

Laswell emails him a link to an article. From her. Featuring comments he didn't think she'd been able to write down. Laswell congratulates him on managing to not give any information away (as if it isn't his job) but there's little actual praise behind it. She tells him never to interact with a war correspondent again.

Wishful thinking.

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Chapter 7 - Everybody Wants to Rule the World

[Also Available on AO3]

Summary: Laswell delivers intel that leaves the team dealing with a ticking clock and the risk of Soap and Ghost's lives being in danger

Warnings/Tags: Minors DNI, swearing, smoking, character with trauma, established relationship, dialog heavy chapter, military inaccuracies

Pairing: Captain John Price x Fem!OC - 3rd person POV (Rory Sinclair)

Word count: 2.5 K

A/N: the further continuation of Rory's story, this follows and expands upon the COD: MW2 reboot canon. Told from Rory's POV.

I always have at least one "It doesn't have to be perfect, it just has to be done chapter" and this feels like it might be it. Lot's of dialogue and characters standing around. I tried to make it entertaining, but alas, it is an infodump chapter

November 2, 2022 19:30 - Somewhere over the East Coast of the United States

Lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the fuselage in flight, the soothing numbness of weighty limbs that came with the pain medication kicking in, and the bone weariness from the excitement of the past few days, Rory had barely been able to keep her eyes open. Her lids were as heavy as bunker doors, eyes rolling back until irises gave way to whites, her head lolled backwards against the headrest and she faded into a sleep deprived state of unconsciousness. 

“For what,” she asked, rubbing at her eyes, sweeping away the sandy particles that had collected in the corners, attempting to erase the glue that had adhered her fan of dark lashes together in a bid to catch up on some much needed rest. With a stretch of her legs right down to her toes, fanning out inside her boots, and a crack of her back, she forced herself to focus. “Did we land already?”

The sound of twin turbine engines roared throughout the cabin in a swell, the orchestral brass section of a vehicle built for war rumbled up through her feet and into her joints. A thunderous lullaby of bellowing white noise surrounded her as she slept like the dead until startled awake by John nudging her leg with his knee and giving her shoulder a squeeze. She blinked around the interior of the plane groggily, trying to gather her bearings. Momentarily confused and disoriented, tense, until the low husk of his murmured voice curled around her with the weight and comfort of one of his oversized sweaters, and the sweet, earthy aroma of smoke carried on his breath.

“Need you awake for this.”

“Dropped off Laswell, en route to Texas as we speak, we’ll get across the border to Mexico from there.”

“Fuck me,” she groaned, rubbing a hand down her face. “Really must have been out of it, eh?”

Yanking one of the cigarettes from the pack, Rory brought it to her lips and pulled out her lighter, setting the flame on the end. “Watch your tone, Sergeant. Might just find yourself on latrine duty back at base,” she said with a smirk, closing the lid on the flame and extinguishing it. 

“You’re doing just fine, Lieutenant,” Gaz ribbed, holding out his pack of cigarettes for her, shaking them like a packet of dog treats. “Managed to go without drooling on the boss’ shoulder and everythin’.” His chuckle quickly followed by a swift elbow nudged into his side by the female member of their party.

“You wouldn't.”

“Try me,” she replied with playfully narrowed eyes, a curling half grin pulling one side of her mouth taut around the cigarette.

The sound of the CIA Station Chief’s voice immediately dragged Rory back into focus, and the mask of professionalism slipped down over her features once more, schooling them into neutrality. “Back to work already, I see.”

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Sinclair.” Laswell’s voice came from the laptop, voice muffled over the built-in speakers. Her tired eyes on the screen were the only thing visible as she held a mug of coffee up to her lips. 

“Always. Sorry to wake you from your catnap, but it was important you heard this as well.”

“I'm all ears.”

The clink of Laswell’s mug hitting the desk was ominous, the only sound in the silence that settled before she spoke. “Botha never arrived.”

“What do you mean they never arrived?” She pulled the cigarette from her lips and sat forward, arms resting on her thighs. “They can't have been bloody spirited away,” she snarked, gesturing with the cigarette in her hand. “They have to be somewhere.” Sitting there stunned, head falling back against her seat, Rory took a heavy breath and tried to ground herself. Eyes snapping open, she met the screen with Laswell’s visage. “Konni?”

Blinking a few times, Rory wasn’t entirely sure she was cogent enough before the words hit her like a slap to the face and she was instantly made alert at the alarming news. The cigarette jostled on her lip as she spoke, mumbling around it. “I'm sorry, what?”

“I know you sent him off with Delaney a few days back… but they never arrived on American soil.”

“Haven’t been able to confirm that yet.”

“What do we know?” Price stepped in, taking control of the situation.

“There have been no moves made for a black box recovery, but the plane never landed. There were no distress calls made either.”

“Aerial strike of some kind?”

“I’d assume so, yeah. Likely didn’t get a chance to respond.”

Rory chewed on her inner lip, raking her fingers through her hair, the ashes at the end of her cigarette crumbling to the floor between her boots – and then it hit her. “So either Konni finally tied up that loose end… or someone buried the lead. Perhaps whoever it was that let the American missiles land in the hands of the enemy in the first place. Missiles that no one knew were missing to begin with. If they’ve got access to weapons that were off the books, what else are they capable of?”

“They’d have to be fairly powerful to have access to weaponry and tactics like that,” Kate confirmed.

Price reared up from his seat, his glower focused on the woman sitting beside him. “You don’t think –”

“I think he’s always been a bit of a dodgy blighter – willing to fight dirty. And I think it might have bitten him in the arse this time.” She turned her attention back to the screen in John’s lap. “Kate, what do we know about Shadow Company aside from being in Shepherd's back pocket?”

“I think someone who’s able to get a task force made up of British Special Forces operatives up and running from out of nowhere is capable of anything. Just like we are.” Rory drummed a thumb on her thigh. “Not to mention he’s got his own PMC at his beck and call.”

“You think Shepherd did this?” John growled.

“Rory,” he growled out her name, something feral brewing in his stare. “If he’s willing to use whatever resources he’s got at his disposal to kill your target, what makes you think he wouldn’t do the same to Soap and Ghost?”

“I'll do some digging.”

Slamming the lid of the laptop shut, Price’s head snapped towards Rory, a quiet fury rolling within the placid depths of his irises, moments before they would become raging storms. “What makes you think it’s Shepherd?”

“What makes you think that it’s not?” she asked, looking taken aback, surprised by his unwillingness to accept her line of reasoning.

“Because he’s got my men working for him on a mission about those fuckin’ missiles,” he snarled.

She sucked her teeth, pursing her lips, before sucking the plump flesh between her teeth and worrying at her pout. “So it’s not trust then, is it? It’s just hope.”

John was protective, he always had been, there was no denying that fact. And he was no different when it came to the lives of his men. Men he had dragged into this, men he had chosen specifically for their skills, for the trust he had in what they would bring to his team. And now that trust was being turned against him by Shepherd, a man he had been foolish enough to allow to use him as a tool in the war they were fighting, one they had been fighting for too long. 

She could see the stiffness in his shoulders, the rigidity. Beating himself up in silence for believing that someone at the top might have actually had some sort of relative honor like him. That he put his life, and the lives of others as their commanding officer, into the hands of a man so ready to wash himself clean of them all made him twitch, his mouth curling with barely hidden disgust. Led astray by his own instincts, he could lose grip of just how much freedom he actually had while still acting as a cog in the machine. The herding dog pulling away from the pack to snarl at the wolves, to beat them back, taking on beasts bigger than him without fear, until returning with a bloodied muzzle, he would know that those under his protection were safe once more. 

“Because that would be absolutely reckless. Not to mention putting his own head on the chopping block. There is no way he is that foolish when it comes to cleaning up a mess like this.”

“An animal backed into a corner goes for the throat,” Price rumbled, his voice low, dangerous. “Shepherd’s not one for complacency.” His mouth scrunched at the thought of what could happen to his men under the General’s orders. “And neither am I.”

“So we’re going in looking for a fight already, boss?” Gaz cocked his brow and glanced past the bickering couple.

“We’re looking after our own,” Price rasped, stare dead set, jaw locked tight.

November 4, 2022 00:30 - Fort Bliss, El Paso, Texas

The wait for a helicopter to be refueled and made ready for flight had given them time to set up shop and ready themselves for taking on the cartel, terrorists, and the suspected – and likely– threat from inside of Shepherd and Graves. The table they stationed themselves around was littered with intel, all they had collected from Ghost’s earlier reports about Las Almas, the Los Vaqueros, and their run in with Hassan Zayani.

The three soldiers leaned over the table, planning, preparing, ready to strike, when the radio on Price’s vest chirped to life. 

“Watcher-1 to Bravo-6. Watcher-1 to Bravo-6–”

“Here, Kate,” Price said, gripping his radio tightly in one hand, while the other pressed to the table, his weight resting on it.

“Hope you’re sitting down. I got my hands on the redacted intel of the century.”

“Go on.”

“The whole reason Graves and Shadow are under Shepherd’s control comes down to finances. Looked into Shadow's origins. Didn't take long before it fell into the red. Shepherd bailed Graves out.”

“Two months ago there was a black bag operation in Al Mazrah, headed by General Shepherd and carried out by Shadow Company. They were transporting ballistic missiles to our allies fighting the Russians in the Middle East. Reconnaissance had said the route was clear – it was incorrect. They were intercepted by a Russian PMC, one we now know to be Konni, thanks to Rory’s work. They took out all survivors and got a hold of Shadow’s comms,” Kate sighed and continued. “The shipments were illegal and off the books. The entire mission buried by Graves and Shepherd. Three missiles were stolen, we’ve only found two. We need to find the last one.”

“Why would Graves be willing to shoulder a burden like that with the General, why not wash his hands of it? Come clean?” Price’s heavy brow knit together in a tight weave of frustration, moving to stand tall, back straight, shifting his weight slightly as if ready to start pacing. The energy stirring to life within him to fight.

“And made a PMC into his own personal army. Wonderful,” Rory scoffed and shook her head. “So it’s not even a question of loyalty, Shepherd outright owns him.” 

“They both got dirty and they've tried to keep it hidden. Now they're willing to do whatever necessary to make sure it stays that way. Picked up on comms chatter. Shadow's overtaken the Mexican Special Forces base in Las Almas.”

“What?” Price’s eyes flared, halting his movements instantly, his hands gripping at the shoulder straps of his vest with white knuckled strength.

“They've detained anyone who has had contact with the mission, either through the cartel or the missiles.”

“Detainment isn't a permanent solution.” Gaz’s jaw clenched, the tic of a snarled lip lasting for only a moment. “The fact that they were quick to take Botha out of the equation makes it worse. Ghost and Soap are in danger.”

“So is Colonel Vargas, my contact.”

The Lieutenant and the Sergeant were a threat to Shepherd’s goal of burying the problem he had helped create. Like nuclear waste having to be buried miles deep in clay and stone to keep the radiation from leaking out and contaminating the earth around it, it had been the General’s goal to keep this out of the light of day. So much so, he was willing to throw out the baby with the bathwater to hide the mistake he had made. 

Rory folded her arms over her chest, her one hand coming up to rub absentmindedly at the scabbed over cuts on her cheek, the last reminder of a life she had fought to save, and for what. “So we're on a ticking clock, and not just because of a lost missile.”

“There's a prison the Special Forces use. High security. If Graves wanted a place to store a problem until there was a more permanent solution, that would be a good choice.”

“Right, then we head there.” Price’s fingers pressed to the table top, splayed apart, tapping them slightly against the metal as the gears spun behind his eyes. “Kate, keep an ear on the chatter and send me the blueprints for the prison. We need to figure out the best way in before we get there.”

“Will do.”

“Bravo-6, out.”

Turning to Rory, Price’s head tipped to the side. “You still think Shepherd’s unwilling to take out our own?”

Working her jaw from side to side, her whole face pinched into an angry purse. The sour tang of bitterness was a pervasive taste that caked her tongue. “Suppose you weren't the only one holding out hope. I can't believe he'd go this far. Why burn bridges like this, make himself the enemy? It’s completely illogical.”

“Because Shepherd likes being in control,” he snarled. “He's used to working in the black like us. Sees things as winning’ and losin’, not maintainin’ allies. No such thing as loyalty with him.”

“That's a dangerous spot for us to be in then, eh? Having to rely on him…” Her words trailed off and the small crumb of fear she carried with her, and the weight of just how much Shepherd knew about them all, darkened her gaze. 

John gripped the back of her neck, pulling her into him, his body rigid, stiff as he rested her head under his chin. The sturdy force she could lean on. “We arent relyin’ on him. Not anymore,” he growled. Tipping his chin to his chest, he leaned back to look down at her and gave her nape a squeeze. “We cut ties, same way he was willin’ to deal with us.”

[islandtarochips]

Call of Duty: Callie “Snipe” Graves 🇺🇸

An American woman who is related to the Commander of the Shadow Company! A sister actually. Born and raised in America. Proud to be one. Having that cocky attitude just like her older brother. A Lieutenant standing by the Commander’s side. She is the ride and die with her older brother and the team. And do be careful when talking with her. You may never know what lie she’ll tell you about.

GENERAL:

🇺🇸 Name: Callie Graves 🇺🇸 Alias(es): 

Callie

Graves

Cal (by Philip and some close friends)

CC (by Philip)

Snipe (by Philip and some comrades)

Lieutenant Graves

Lieutenant Snipe

Shadow 0-3

Cowgirl (by Kanoa)

🇺🇸 Gender: Female 🇺🇸 Age: 35 (MW2), 36 (MW3) 🇺🇸 Birthday: July 31st, 1987 🇺🇸 Nationality: American 🇺🇸 Place of Birth: Texas, USA 🇺🇸 Home: Dallas, Texas, USA 🇺🇸 Spoken Languages: English 🇺🇸 Sexuality: Heterosexual 🇺🇸 Occupation:

Lieutenant of the Marines

Lieutenant of the Shadow Company

Second-in-Command of the Shadow Company

Sniper

Mercenary

APPEARANCE:

🇺🇸 Eye Color: Blue 🇺🇸 Hair Color: Blonde 🇺🇸 Height: 5’9”/175 cm 🇺🇸 Scars: 

Wounds: Bullet wound in the palm of her right hand (caused by Tiala), Stabbing wound on her left thigh (caused by Tiala as well)

Scars: Scars on her knuckles from fighting (fighting an enemy in Las Almas), scar behind her neck (from an enemy)

🇺🇸 Face Claim: Dakota Fanning

FAVORITES:

🇺🇸 Color: Lemon Yellow 🇺🇸 Food: Burgers. Just burgers and fries. 🇺🇸 Drink: Whiskey 🇺🇸 Flower: Sunflower 🇺🇸 Hairstyle: Always putting it up in a ponytail or in a bun when she's at home. But putting it in a braid during work time.

Affiliation:

Shadow Company:

-Commander Philip Graves

-Sergeant Sheree "Reed" Norcliffe ( @justasmolbard )

- Sergeant Annabelle “Kit” Pham ( @applbottmjeens )

Warriors Task Force:

- General Alana Kalani

- Captain Kanoa Toa

-First Sergeant Tiala "Shark" Koa

- Sergeant Agnes “Blast” Falagi

- Sergeant Nigel “Squirrel” Harrison

Task Force 141:

- Captain John Price

- Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley

- Sergeant John “Soap” MacTavish

- Sergeant Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

- Charlotte “Jade” Le Jardin ( @sleepyconfusedpotato )

- Sergeant Major Hannah “Sparrow” Clayton ( @revnah1406 )

- Annabelle “Kit” Pham ( @applbottmjeens and later on being part of the Shadow Company)

Para Special Forces: ( @welldonekhushi )

- Captain Arjun

Second Commando Regiment: ( @kaitaiga )

- Sergeant Damien Whitlock

CIA:

- Station Chief Kate Laswell

PERSONALITY:

🇺🇸 Myers Briggs Type: ESTP Callie is a VERY outgoing person. She has always been ever since she was little. Always loves to go outside for an adventure with her older brother. She’s also the kind of woman who would do ANYTHING for her brother. Whatever he said she’ll do it. Well…some of it.

🇺🇸 Loyalty: Her ONLY loyalty is with her brother, Philip Graves. For he has always been there for her when she needed him most. So she will do the same for him no matter what the cost.

🇺🇸 Action-Oriented: Whatever Graves asks her to deal with something. She’ll do it in the most CREATIVE way to deal with the enemies. And she’ll do it in a HEARTBEAT.

🇺🇸 Pragmatic Problem Solver: Even though she will follow her older brother’s orders without questioning. But she sometimes wanted to listen to her OWN thoughts before following his orders.

NEGATIVE:

🇺🇸 Manipulative: You could say she got that from her brother. She does that with other soldiers if they crossed the line with her. Whenever anyone argues with her. She’ll turn the table around by sharing something that will STRUCK into their core. (She also secretly read your files and got some from other people you may know so she can find your weaknesses.)

🇺🇸 Bossy: Most of the Shadows kept complaining that she’s being too bossy. Always telling them what to do while Graves put her in charge. And yelling at them every small little thing when they do something wrong.

🇺🇸 Narcissists: She is a NARCISSIST. Always trying to prove someone else is WRONG. Even doing that to Philip too. She didn’t even BOTHER listen to other people’s perspective and just kept saying that they are wrong. (Spoiled brat)

🇺🇸 Liar: She’s a GOOD dirty liar. Always got away just by saying her creative words. Even if there are ways that don't make sense. She’ll MAKE it sense.

Skills and Abilities:

🇺🇸 Fighting Style: Hand-to-Hand Combat and Boxing

🇺🇸 Weapons: A6 bolt-action sniper rifle and Benelli M1014

🇺🇸 Distinct Weapon: Sig Sauer Model P320 and gutting knife

🇺🇸 Special Skills:

Dealmaker: She got good info on things when it comes to making deals with someone. She just needs to learn more about this person before giving them what they actually wanted and needed.

Assassinate: Give her the order of assassinating someone. And she’ll get it done without hesitating or even questioning it.

FAMILY:

Unnamed Father (Father, Alive)

Unnamed Mother (Mother, Deceased)

Philip Graves (Older Brother, Alive) 

TRIVIA:

🇺🇸 She is the younger sister of the Commander.

🇺🇸 Callie has always been deceived by her father because she was at fault of her mother’s death

🇺🇸 Philip is the only kind of brother who always look out for her

🇺🇸 She’s not like any other kind of girl. She likes to get her hands dirty and would join with her older brother to do something fun or troubling.

🇺🇸 At 16-years-old, Callie had developed a habit of making deals with other students. Like giving them some drugs or cigarettes or even handing out tests with some answers. Surprisingly, she didn’t get caught.

🇺🇸 She enjoys riding on horses with Philip. Almost feels like she is FREE as she feels the wind through her golden hair.

🇺🇸 Snipe is the nickname that Philip had given her because of how her words affected others without a care. Which he is very most proud of. And also, she’s really good at being a sniper.

🇺🇸 Been with her brother in the Marines Corpse and into the Shadow Company. She’s very proud of him and accepted being his second-in-command.

Background Story:

On July 31st, 1987. Callie was born in Texas. And on that same day is when her mother passes after giving birth to her to come into this world.

THAT is when her father started to distance himself from her and despise her. But not her older brother, Philip Graves. Whenever her father left her alone and didn’t bother to care for her. Philip stepped in and took care of her himself. Ignoring their father’s harsh words about leaving Callie alone. Philip chooses not to and continues to care for his little sister. Philip was only 5-years-old when Callie was born. He may not know WHAT to do but he knows that he has to protect his little Callie.

When Callie had started to learn how to walk, this is when she was 13 months old. She wanted to walk up to her dad, who was drinking at the moment and he disgustingly looked at her. Walking up to him reaching out with her tiny hands. He scoffed as he stood up and was about to deal with her before Philip ran in and grabbed her. Saying to his father that he’ll keep an eye on her while he watches TV. The father just rolled his eyes and went back to sit down while Philip took Callie, who was being fussy, to the kitchen to get her something to eat. Which he remembers about his mama telling him about babies drinking milk. So he did his best to make it for his little sister and make sure she stayed put before his dad might get pissed off if he sees her wandering off again. But he did make some small gifts for Callie to be able to walk! Philip was only 6-years-old when Callie was 13-months-old.

When Callie was 12-years-old, she had done her very best of trying to get her father’s attention. Which really annoyed him as he ignored her and paid attention to his son. It upset Callie very much but when she saw Philip giving HIS attention to her. She believes that’s all she needs as she shows or tells her older brother about anything! And it warms Philip’s heart to see his little sister yapping about her day. Callie was very happy when Philip secretly spoiled her with their father’s money. Giving her small gifts, food, candies, snacks- ANYTHING that big older Phil can give to his little sister. She appreciates it REALLY much.

When she turned 15-years-old she had started to pick up a habit of selling some things in the school grounds to other kids. Selling and stealing drugs, giving other teenagers some cigarettes, she also can trade them with answer sheets on their homeworks. All of that and hadn’t got caught. And that’s how she got some money from them too. Which Philip was questioning when he saw his little sister coming home with some of it in her hands. She just straight up lied to her older brother that she was doing a canteen for her school. And just left it at that. Philip didn’t even think about it and just took her words for it. Their dad has still been drinking and couldn’t care LESS of what Callie is doing.

Callie had also participated in some of the sports. Mostly baseball and she was hoping that her dad would come and watch some of her games. Just like he came to watch Philip’s football game. But as expected from all those years…he never showed up. The only person that came to most of her games, is none other than Philip. She appreciated it and she’s happy that someone she knew had come to her games. But it still hurts that her own father didn’t show up. Philip had told her that he TRIED to drag his ass out of the house to come to her game but he wouldn’t budge. Which annoyed him so much. She just shrugged it off and asked him if they could get some burgers. Philip smiled at her as he would do anything for her. So they went out to get a burger from McDonald's. Callie was 16-years-old when she started to participate in sports after the summer.

When Callie became a Junior in High School. She has been called into the Principal’s office. As she was caught red-handed having some drugs in her bag since she was about to sell it to one of the students. Instead of her father coming over. Philip was there instead. So after the conversation the Principal had said that they would expel Callie from campus for she had been doing this for a LONG time. And they can’t risk having her around for she might do it again. So she and Philip left the school without saying a word to each other. Callie doesn’t know how he reacted to this situation before they reached home. As soon they stepped in, the two paused to see their father was on the chair with a belt in hand. Does he know about Callie being expelled? Yes he does. How? Because HE was the one who answered the call from the Principal but he let Philip go instead of him. And he didn’t tell his son why he didn't want to go. He just wants to prepare himself to punish Callie when she gets home. The poor girl was scared to see her father with the belt and was about to be grabbed by him too when he stood up and walked over. But Philip stopped him, telling their father that she wouldn’t have done this if he would PAY ATTENTION to her. The father scoffed at his son’s words before pushing him back as he grabbed Callie. Saying that this girl is a LOST CAUSE ever since she was born and had caused the DEATH of her mother. Those words had really struck her so badly as she started to tear up. It upsetted Philip so much to see his little sister being scared. So he stepped in as he grabbed the father’s wrist and pushed him back before putting Callie behind him. He warned his father to NOT touch her like that and told him that they’ll be moving out. He’ll take care of Callie if he doesn’t want to. The father scoffed with no caring looks in his eyes. So he let them leave as Philip took Callie somewhere else. FAR away from their father. He was only 22-years-old while Callie is still 16-years-old.

When Callie had finally graduated from another school, WITHOUT causing any more trouble, the Graves siblings decided to sign up for the Marines together. And they have worked together ever since. But Callie could see her older brother’s eyes as if he’s not pleased or satisfied by these military systems. Seeing how the other higher ranks had to pull back men like the two of them. So she heard that Philip was going to leave the military and she wanted to join him. Which he doesn’t mind. So the two had left the military in 2017. And Philip had made his own private military company. Callie was very proud and impressed of her older brother’s work and she had accepted his offer by being his second-in-command. This was when Callie was 30-years-old and Philip was 35-years-old.

[itsastronxmy]

Sunako “Dagger” Sato 🗡️

General Information:

Full Name: Sunako Sato  Aliases: Dagger, Ako, Sunny, bunny, kiddo, squirt, etc.  Occupation: Taskforce 141 Sergeant, Shadow Company Sergeant (formerly), ROK 707th Battalion Private (formerly) Status: Alive First Appearance: Modern Warfare 2 (2022 Reboot)  Orientation: Heterosexual  Date of Birth: March 11, 1996  Place of Birth: Osaka, Kansai, Japan  Languages: Korean, Japanese, English, Arabic (very little) 

Physical Details:

Gender: Female  Height: 160cm/5ft 3in  Body Type: Lean  Blood Type: A-  Skin Complexion: Light Peach Hair: Dark straight hair going to her waist/low bun while on duty  Eyes: Dark brown  Face Claim: Han Ji-Eun 

Tattoos: None Piercings: Black piercings on her lobe and upper ear Scars: Deep scars on her right shoulder, and a small bullet wound by her left hip Glasses: Not needed Impairments: None

Personality:

On a Myer-Briggs test, Sunako was an ENFP. On an Enneagram test, she is a Type 2, or Helper.

Friendly: Sunako is known for her warm personality that naturally draws people in, making it easy for her to create connections with those around her

Perceptive: Being very tuned in to people's emotions, she can sense very subtle shifts in a person's mood or intentions. This is a talent she uses when confronting dangerous individuals in the field

Curious: A naturally curious person, Sunako loves to chase after new experiences and understand things beyond what they seem. This gets her into trouble sometimes, though, as her well-intentioned curiosity may come off as nosy or irritating

People-pleasing: Sunako wants to be loved more than anything. If it makes her 'more worthy' of being loved, she is willing to sacrifice her own needs to do please people. It is difficult for her to say no, and she struggles with finding a solution that will make everyone happy.

Disorganized: Too focused on pleasing her peers or discovering new ideas, she often forgets to attend to practical matters. She dislikes mundane tasks such as paperwork and chores -- unless they are done to make someone happy.

Optimistic: It's hard to beat her happy-go-lucky attitude. Always looking on the bright side of things, Sunako lifts up her comrades with her positivity. However, it sometimes leads to her making naive decisions, such as trusting someone who may betray her later on (like Graves)

Relationships:

Mother: Unnamed  Father: Isamu Sato Siblings: Taejin Sato (twin brother - Senior Airman for USAF) Love Interest: Simon Riley (Lieutenant Ghost of Task Force 141) Children: N/A  Pets: N/A 

Affiliations:

TF141: Captain John Price  Sergeant Kyle “Gaz” Garrick  Sergeant John “Soap” MacTavish (KIA as of MWIII) Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley 

Mexican Special Forces/Los Vaqueros:  Colonel Alejandro Vargas  Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra 

CIA:  Station Chief Kate Laswell 

Urzikstan Liberation Force:

Commander Farah Ahmed Karim

Combat Lieutenant Alex Keller

Shadow Company (formerly):  Commander Phillip Graves 

Other:  Gambit Weste (American mercenary)

Background:

Sunako was born to Isamu Sato and his wife on March 11, 1996 in Osaka. Her twin brother, Taejin, was born shortly after.

During her early childhood, Sunako frequently moved between Korea and Japan. Whenever her mother was busy designing clothes for big modeling events, she would spend a few weeks at her paternal grandparents' home. Her father was an alcoholic and often stayed out late at night, returning home in the morning with a nasty temper.

At the age of eight, Sunako's father was arrested for DUI and running over several civilians with his car. And not even four months later, Sunako was hospitalized after being attacked by her neighbor's dog when she'd climbed over the fence to retrieve a baseball. Her right shoulder was badly mangled, but she eventually healed and moved on.

Once they were of age, Sunako and her brother Taejin decided to join the Korean military. While Taejin decided to join the ROK Air Force, Sunako wanted to apply for the Army. She scored awfully well in all of her exams, and showed a strong desire to serve and help. After a few years in the army, she was asked if she wanted to join the special forces unit. After passing a few more tests, she accepted. Sunako worked in the 707th "White Tigers" special forces unit for four years, becoming a well-respected soldier despite her youth.

And then in 2020, Sunako was approached by Gambit Weste, an American mercenary who had been in Korea for unknown reasons. Apparently she had been following Sunako and had taken an interest to the young woman, so she offered an invitation to join Shadow Company. Sunako knew nothing of the American PMC, but she did know that it was a step forwards. As much as she loved her homes of Korea and Japan, she eventually decided that America was the next stage for her in her career.

Sunako served in Shadow Company for the next two years, eventually coming to Sergeant because of her skill. She became a close friend of Phillip Graves, who was curious about this young woman who had been invited by the elusive Gambit Weste (without his permission).

However, during the Las Almas mission in 2022, things took a bad turn. Seeing Graves declare he was taking over the Los Vaqueros base, and watching her ally Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish be shot, Sunako suddenly decided that she could not stay with Shadow Company. She fled alongside Soap and Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley, and worked with Team Ghost to take back the Vaqueros' base.

After the events of MWII, Sunako was at a loss for where to go. She couldn't return to Shadow Company, and heading back to Korea felt wrong. In the end, she was offered a spot in Task Force 141 by Captain John Price, and she accepted.

The rest of her story follows canon Modern Warfare events.

Fun Facts:

Despite her friendly and people-pleasing nature, Sunako is actually skilled in taekwondo, judo, and kendo. She says that if it makes her more capable of helping others, she was willing to bang up a few friends (she always apologised after, of course).

Contrasting her sunny disposition, Sunako also shows a preference for soft grunge and punk rock. She loves her thick-soled boots and dark nails.

Her favorite animal is a rabbit, though she loves animals in general

She originally wanted to be a nurse, before realising that she definitely didn't have the attention span and focus to do so 😅

Her greatest fears are arachnophobia and claustrophobia, the fears of spiders and being in confined spaces. Reaching under the couch to grab the fallen remote? Yeah, no, she's convinced the harmless house spider under there will bite her hand off. Her claustrophobia sometimes interferes with her capabilities during ops, but she's able to suck it up most of the time

She loves travelling a lot, and is willing to immerse herself in any culture

[resident-idiot-simp]

Would love to know more about the CIAs thoughts of the 141 wip

(List)

Ok so the first section is done

However it's supposed to be a 5 in 1 and I have to do more with it ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯.

The idea is the CIA interactive with Laswell and thus the 141. So pretty much they hear off the wall stories of illegal activities and just mayhem with really no context.

I mean I would kill to know what they think about the 141

A snippet-

It was a normal Wednesday when it happened, Laswell, a station chief who up to this point had been nothing but an angel stormed through the door. She looked frazzled and was all but sprinting to a conference room. In her way she grabbed O'Connor and quickly told her, "Nothing you hear is to be spoken of." With that ominous statement the door was slammed closed and the glass darkened.

She opened her laptop and tapped frantically until on the projector screen sat a video feed of some compound that was in hell. Fire, bullets, bodies, and rubble surrounded the building.

Laswell was still frantically typing and soon voices sounded from her computer, they were indescifrable from all the cursing that came from every line.

"Watcher has eyes on give me a sitrep boys." Laswell ordered and waved O'Connor closer to where a notepad sat with a pen.

O'Connor got the message as she prepared to wright, "TITS UP-" A voice started only to get cut off by another, "SOAP FUCKING HELL!" A third could be heard sighing before talking, "Ambush, we are cornered in building 5. This was a trap."

O'Connor wrote down where they were, "Ok, is anyone injured? I mean at all, not just if you are no longer able to hold a gun." Laswell asked quickly adding on the last bit.

"..Besides Roach no, but he's good enough to fight." Yet another voice answered. O'Connor continued to write as Laswell asked a few other questions.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Also dumb question

How would that call of duty characters fare on hot ones? How high can they get on the Scoville scale before they gotta tap out??

- 🔪

Using this scale as a guide:

The COD characters on Hot Ones

(This started out serious but devolved into pure jokes and slander)

Ghost, surprisingly, gets the furthest. I'd say he'd get around the Ghost pepper but would def get tears in his eyes and red in the face. In my mind, he's trained himself to withstand many kinds of 'torture' and that includes tricking his brain into not reacting to heat/pain receptors in his mouth.

Surprisingly (2.0), Nikolai. Not because Russians are particularly good with spice or because of stereotype, but because I'm 100% sure he'd handle a Habanero just fine. Something about him just screams it. Idk.

Gaz comes next. I'd say he can go up to Habaneros before he taps out. I hc that he was raised by immigrants and is used to spiced food, not just spicy, but well spiced too.

Alejandro after that. Might be me engaging a bit in stereotype but he, also, doesn't strike me as the kind of man that would eat bland food? Traditional Mexican food is well-seasoned and plenty spicy so... Cayenne-Thai levels.

Rudy fits here bc of the same reason as Alejandro. But he reacts worse, I feel like. In my mind, he gets red in the face and SWEATS when he's eating.

Price goes next and I blame that on the fact he's been all over the world for missions and deployments and probably has eaten food of all kinds, if nothing else just to experiment. That being said, he's definitely a wimp. Fits somewhere between Jalapeños and Cayenne peppers.

Farah and she's only this low because her country has been going through a revolt + she was in prison + she scavenged for food as a kid and I imagine she's not always had access to try super spicy food when surviving off rations. Fits somewhere between Jalapeños and Cayenne peppers but could definitely handle more if she had more opportunities to eat it more.

Laswell. I'm convinced she was a field agent for the CIA before becoming a handler and station chief. Aka, she was all over the world and ate all sort of things, just like Price. Fits somewhere between Jalapeños and Cayenne peppers.

Soap taps out the easiest on the 141 but he's still not really a wimp. He's just Scottish. Around the same level as Laswell, Price, etc.

Alex Keller comes next. He's white and American. Do I need to say more? I'd say he can handle a Jalapeño but will need loads of water and milk

Graves comes at the bottom of the fucking line. He's white, American and a yee-haw American at that. If Alex can handle a jalapeño, Graves can't handle yellow mustard out of the bottle.

[redellielu]

Hello! My name is SSA Eloise Redderd, please do not call me anything else unless priorly discussed. I am on loan to Station Chief Kate Laswell's office through the CIA.

I heard the lot of you were joining this interesting website and I heard there may be a need for damage control, though I hear a handful of HR staff are also here which is a relief.

Name: Eloise Lucille Redderd

Age: 29

Birth Date: [REDACTED]

Place of Birth: [REDACTED] USA

Job Title: Communications Liaison

(a/n: Hello! This blog is heavily inspired by @ghost-askblog @soap-askblog @ask-gaz @ask-mactavish and many other rp blogs that have been appearing! my name is Sky and fair warning it has been quite some time since I rped so bear with me here <3 18+ please)

[peachesofteal]

I re-read the latest chapter of simple math the other day for the n-th time and hilariously had one of those "I can't talk about this to a real person rn so I'm going to have this wildly animated conversation out loud with myself like a crazy person" moments while walking back to my car after work when I had this epiphany, so picture some rando whisper yelling this to themselves in a company parking lot:

it took 6 weeks for Kate to get back to them??? Ur gonna tell me that it took miss Kate CIA Station Chief Laswell SIX WEEKS to get access??? Like sure her bun's identity may be locked tight and she's smart so they don't have leads (re: "...this kind of wipe work is professional level") and they're not in the US so idk how far laswell's CIA title takes her in an official investigative capacity, BUT ur gonna tell me that she couldn't even get the CCTV??? Like some random hospital security footage????? From the day bun left??? Literally the first thing they should be looking at??? Step 1 in the search???? Six weeks???? Even in an off-the-books unofficial capacity??? Six weeks???? At this rate the baby will be 2 years old when they find bunny!!!!!!

(/lh /t I share this questionable rant in jest while I eagerly await for the next installment ilysm peach)

I know it took way too long but in my mind it’s more of a lack of time on Kate’s part bs lack of ability. The woman has an actual job that she can’t exactly step away from so that’s how I picture. Next chapter we’ll see more of what the guys are up to

[gemmahale]

WIP Wednesday (4/17/24)

Fandom: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare Reboot

Working Title: A Protege's Trust (link to the tag)

Pairing: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x Lisa 'Badger' Compton

Rating: E (eventually, but not in this snippet)

Synopsis:

CIA operative Lisa Compton is assigned to the 141 - it's her responsibility to help Laswell coordinate infill and exfill, gather crucial intel for the team and provide plausible cover stories when they get into tight spots. There's one problem: Sgt. Garrick is the most insufferable, unprofessional, bull-headed boy she's ever worked with. Gaz's an immaculate soldier, ready to jump at Price's order and launch himself into the fray with his mind focused on one thing: completing the mission. But when Laswell assigns the new CIA operative 'Badger' to their team, he can't stop flirting with her, thinking about her soft curves and sharp wit more often than focusing on the job at hand. Laswell won't approve her transfer to another team. Price is threatening to bench him. Badger and Gaz won't talk to - let alone look at- each other. Ghost thinks Badger's nickname should be 'Insufferable Yank.' Soap wants them to fuck it out already.

AKA: This'n's a good ol enemies to [???] to lovers with a sprinkling of other tropes for good measure. (Something something Price/Gaz being mirrored in Laswell/Compton? 👀) Credit to @pfhwrittes for collabing and feeding the brainworms. Short snippet because I don't have much written yet, but the plot's simmering there.

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Station Chief Laswell stood quietly in the corner of the briefing room, surveying the group seated in the briefing room. Her fingers idly tapped along the edge of her folder, watching operatives mutter alongside soldiers, the chatter covering the struggling projector on the table.

Captain Price rocked on his feet on the other side of the screen. “All right, settle in.” His voice snuffed out the conversations, chairs scuffling and people settling in the following silence. One last bark of laughter echoed across the space. “Garrick–”

“Sorry Sir.” 

Lisa huffed softly to herself as she caught Sergeant MacTavish punching Sergeant Garrick in the arm and the returned scowl.

At least one of the 141 seemed to want to take this seriously.

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

Little snippet below because I can't help myself

Shotout to my dear @nrdmssgs for helping me with editing out a black line on Riot's forehead and clipping in Laswell's jeans

New York,

April 2020

''Is this seat taken?''

''You know full well it is'' Sgt. Christine 'Riot' Vega answered calmly, her eyes still on the book she was reading. ''I'm waiting for someone, ma'am''

''You're on leave, so no need to ma'am me, Vega'' Kate Laswell sat down in the free chair, placing her takeaway coffee on the table. ''And Sgt. MacTavish is still in line at the post office. That package he's sending his family is enormous, by the way''

''It is'' Riot sighed, turning her head towards the CIA Station Chief. ''Out with it''

''Maybe I just happened to be in the neighbourhood and decided to say hi'' Laswell shrugged, and Christine chuckled, amused, her eyes returning to her book.

''Sure thing, and that's why you decided, of all places in Brooklyn, to drop by the café next to our AirBnB to get your coffee''

''You're smart''

''I'm on leave'' Christine turned a page. ''We're flying to Bali tomorrow, so whatever it is, can wait until I'm on duty again''

''Oh, don't worry, I wasn't trying to send you off on another task yet'' Laswell tapped her fingers on her takeaway cup, observing the younger woman. ''Heard there's an operation scheduled in your unit by the time you're back from your leave''

''Can't confirm nor deny, ma'am''

''I know you can't'' Kate nodded, and her whole demeanor changed a bit. She leaned in and rested her chin on her hand, lowering her voice. ''Christine, be careful. I mean it. Rico has planned the whole operation. Be careful''

Vega turned her head again to look at her, and nodded slowly.

''I will''

(in fact, it didn't matter, she ended in hospital for three months due to Rico's faulty planning and orders)

[codmw2019-2022]

COD MW 2022 - Price

Captain Price's Operator Bio from Call of Duty Modern Warfare 2.

//Operator Bio:

Name: Price Citizenship: United Kingdom | Language: English Faction Affiliation: SpecGru | Status: Active

John Price has spent most of his career with the 22nd Special Air Service Regiment fighting in the shadows. He is a veteran of military operations in nearly every conflict-prone corner of the world. He is a man of few words, but his words always count. He knows the rules, reads from the back of the book and is willing to break ranks and violate orders to get the job done.

Sometimes unpredictable and unrestrained, John Price has a golden rule all his own: "Cut heads off snakes. No matter who, no matter where…" Specializing in unconventional warfare, the Captain is a target focused war fighter who deploys a cut to the chase lethality.

In 2019, with the help of CIA Station Chief Laswell and the oversight of General Shepherd- under the Five Eyes Alliance, Captain Price stood up a new unit he called Task Force 141. This covert Joint Operations squadron is on call to mobilize anywhere in the world with immediate readiness.

(AN: Just realised while writing the Operator bio out that they have changed it since MW3 has come out. Will find clips of the old bio and create a separate post for that.)