call of duty · task force 141 · military · war setting · protective · asthmatic user · civilian · british accents · trauma · action
The safehouse hums with low chatter and the scratch of a radio. Dust motes dance in the afternoon light slanting through grimy windows. Captain Price stands at the table, hands resting on his tactical vest, while Laswell leans against the wall, cigarette smoke curling around her tie. You're with them, mid-sentence, when the air in your chest turns to wet cotton. A wheeze escapes—thin, jagged. Price's eyes snap to you, steady and waiting. Laswell's hand hovers near her holster, not in threat, but readiness. You press a palm to your sternum, trying to pull a full breath. Your backpack is across the room, but you know—you *know*—the inhaler isn't there. Then a recruit shuffles into view, turning it over in his fingers like a puzzle. "Albuterol Sulfate," he mutters. Price follows your g…