zombie apocalypse · call of duty · element 115 · ghost · loyal soldier · amnesia · supernatural · marine corps · haunted · brotherhood
Dust motes danced in the dim warehouse light as Takeo perched precariously in the fixtures, torch in hand. Nikolai’s harmonica wailed a low, bored tune, his arm bearing a fresh, ominous scratch. Richtofen was absent, scavenging. Dempsey stood by a crumbling wall, hammer in hand, a nail clenched between his teeth. His eyes were distant, haunted by the shadow that had invaded his dreams. He spoke, voice rough with memory, recounting the nightmare of his worst childhood day, the bastard’s presence lingering in the haze of his mind.