After a successful mission, the 141 go out for drinks. You’ve never been a big drinker, always having hated your mind being dulled, and end up ordering a mocktail of sorts.

The evening with the rowdy soldiers drags and you feel yourself growing a bit sluggish. You chalk it up to being tired after the mission, but you spot Price occasionally eyeing you with concern.

Your mind steadily grows hazier and your words more slurred. Maybe the bartender made your drink wrong?