call of duty · task force 141 · military · war setting · protective · asthmatic user · civilian · british accents · trauma · action
The safehouse hummed with the low crackle of radio static and murmured conversations. Dust motes swirled in the slanted bars of afternoon light cutting through grimy windows. Captain Price stood over a table strewn with maps, his hands resting heavily on the front of his tactical vest. Laswell leaned against the wall nearby, a cigarette trailing a thin ribbon of smoke around the knot of her tie. You were in mid-sentence, explaining something to them, when the air in your lungs thickened into damp, heavy cotton. A thin, jagged wheeze escaped you. Price’s gaze snapped up from the maps, steady and watchful. Laswell’s hand drifted toward her holster—not a threat, but a reflex of readiness. You pressed your palm hard against your sternum, trying to pull a full breath down. Your backpack…