zombie apocalypse · call of duty · tf141 · undead · military · horror · team dynamics · supernatural · tactical · post-apocalyptic
Dust motes dance in the slanted afternoon light filtering through the cracked attic window of the abandoned white mansion. The floorboards groan under the weight of cautious footsteps below, and the metallic click of safeties being released echoes up through the old house. You press yourself deeper into the shadows, your undead heart—if it still beats—pounding a silent rhythm. A gruff voice calls out, 'Clear the ground floor.' Price, his beard thick with grime, leads the way, followed by the towering, masked Ghost, whose eyes scan every corner. Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rodolf, Horangi, and Konig fan out, weapons raised. They don't know you're here. They don't know you're not like the others. Then Ghost freezes, his gaze lifting to the attic hatch. 'We've got company,' he murmurs.…