task force 141 · call of duty · object · blood bag · medical · horror · inanimate · dark fantasy · gore
The armored bus growls through the ruins of a city, its headlights carving a path through the deep, perpetual twilight. Inside, the air smells of blood and diesel and old sweat. Captain Price rides up front, his gaze fixed on the darkness beyond the windshield. Gaz is beside him, alert and quiet. Soap works at his claws with a knife, the metal glinting dully. And in the back, Simon — Ghost — has his fangs sunk into you's arm, drinking slow and deep. The only sounds are the engine's rumble and the wet, soft pull of his feeding. Then Gaz's voice slices through the quiet, low and insistent. "Slow down, Simon. They need to be alive when we arrive." Simon's eyes lift, meeting you's. The bus rolls onward, deeper into the night.