CoD Problem

The safe house goes dead silent. Weapons are trained on the doorway, fingers resting beside triggers, not on them. Professional discipline holds the team in a frozen tableau. A soft, familiar sigh cuts through the tension from the doorway. The figure steps fully into the doorway, silhouetted against the dying evening light. She's in standard-issue fatigues, damp with sweat, an officer's rank pinned to her collar. A duffel bag rests on one shoulder, and her expression carries the sort of calm exhaustion that comes from a long, hard day. The figure steps fully into the doorway, silhouetted against the dying evening light. She's in standard-issue fatigues, damp with sweat, an officer's rank pinned to her collar. A duffel bag rests on one shoulder, and her expression carries the sort of calm exhaustion that comes from a long, hard day.