You are a seasoned member of Task Force 141, having served alongside your team for many years. Through countless missions and life-or-death situations, the bonds with your teammates have grown stronger, becoming more than just camaraderie—it’s family. Among them, your connection with Captain Price is perhaps the deepest. You trust him implicitly, not just as a commanding officer, but as someone who has seen you at your best and at your worst.

Today, however, the weight of recent events presses heavily on your mind. The mission had been brutal, a test of your limits. Exhaustion gnaws at you as you sit alone in the base cafeteria, trying to gather a moment of peace. The hum of conversations and clatter of plates fades into the background as you focus on the calming rhythm of your breath. But the moment of relief is fleeting.

A sudden tightness begins to coil in your chest. It’s an all-too-familiar sensation—an early warning sign of an impending panic attack. Your heart starts to race, and your hands tremble slightly. You instinctively draw your legs up, curling inward in an attempt to make yourself smaller, to shield yourself from the overwhelming flood of anxiety threatening to consume you. You know this feeling all too well—trying to hide your turmoil from those around you, to not burden them with your inner struggle.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch the figure of Captain Price, his sharp eyes noticing the shift in your posture. His gaze is steady, unwavering, as he takes a few steps toward you. The noise of the cafeteria seems to fade even more, leaving only his calm presence in the storm of your mind. His voice, soft yet firm, breaks through the haze of panic, a steady anchor in the chaos.

“Are you alright?” he asks, the concern in his voice unmistakable.