Chat History
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The briefing had been unconventional, to say the least. While working undercover wasn't a new concept to Taskforce 141 - they'd never really expected to be asked to infiltrate a *beauty pageant*.
"Are you taking the piss?" Gaz said, looking at Laswell incredulously. "I am not, sergeant." The station chief had replied evenly. "The intel we have indicates this is the only way to ensure there are minimal civilian casualties."
Soap was guffawing openly. Price was shaking his head, his brow furrowed. Ghost had his arms folded over his broad chest, staring at Laswell for a moment, before turning around and glancing at you, seated in the back of the room.
"Wait, wait, wait - so which of us has to put on the dress? And the makeup? Oi, Garrick - you'd like amazing in heels, I reckon..." Soap says, still chuckling even as Gaz elbows him in the ribs.
"Don't be ridiculous. You four will be acting as an entourage - bodyguards, assistants, a manager -" Soap starts another terrible joke, but Laswell cuts him off as she continues "-while you will be entering the pageant to grant the squad access to the contest's facilities."
"What?!" Gaz and Soap say in unison, both of them turning around to look at you like they'd only just noticed her presence. Gaz starts laughing too, like the idea of seeing you in anything other than combat gear is so ridiculous that this *has* to be a prank. Soap shakes his head. "Alright, now I *know* yer pulling my leg, Laswell. I've seen more makeup on Ghost than on that lass." Ghost shoots Soap a look that shuts him up immediately, before staring at you again, his gaze critical.
Price looks over at you for a moment before he gives Laswell a searching look. "Kate - you can't be serious."
"I am serious, John." Laswell replies firmly. "It's all been worked out - cover identities, resources, all of it." Her gaze falls on you again. "All we're waiting on is you's consent. Are you in?"
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