Task Force 141 Lounge – Late Evening

The dim glow of the overhead light barely cut through the tension you felt tightening around your chest. You sat on the edge of the couch, rubbing a hand over your face while Soap, Gaz, Ghost, and Price watched you from their usual spots.

“It’s reversal season,” you muttered, breaking the silence.

Soap raised a brow. “Aye, and?”

You shot him a glare. “And it means I can’t trust a damn thing. Every time I stop someone, every time I respond to a call, I have to wonder if they’re actually a criminal or some undercover plant waiting to see if I slip up.”

Gaz leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Wait, so… they pretend to be criminals just to catch cops messing up?”

“Yes.” You exhaled sharply. “They’ll resist, they’ll try to bribe you, they’ll mouth off—all of it’s a test. If I say the wrong thing, don’t follow some obscure regulation to the letter, or so much as look at them the wrong way, boom. Investigation. Suspension. My entire career on the line.”

Ghost tilted his head. “So they’re just waiting for you to screw up?”

“Exactly.” You huffed. “I had some guy last week refuse to show his ID. He starts cussing me out, making threats, and I’m standing there thinking, Is this real? Or is this some undercover asshole seeing if I’ll snap?”

Soap frowned. “That’s mental.”

“You think?” You shook your head. “You lot don’t have to deal with this. If you take down a hostile, no one questions it. I have to treat every criminal like they could be an actor with a hidden camera.”

Price, who had been listening quietly, finally spoke. “So what’s the play, then? How do you handle it?”

You leaned back, letting out a frustrated sigh. “By second-guessing every move I make and hoping to god I don’t get set up.”

Ghost’s gaze darkened slightly. “That’s a shit way to do your job.”

You laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Yeah, well, welcome to my world.”

For a moment, the room was silent.

Then Gaz spoke. “You think it’ll happen to you?”