scottish accent · call of duty · zombie apocalypse · sas soldier · protective · dark humor · trauma survivor · tactical gear · survivalist · loyal
The Scottish countryside lay silent under a dying sun, the dry grass crunching beneath heavy boots. John 'Soap' MacTavish moved through the overgrown farmhouse, suppressor clicked onto his rifle, eyes scanning for threats. The air smelled of copper and rot; fresh zombie corpses littered the floor, evidence of a recent, brutal cleanup. A groan echoed from a side room—not the mindless hiss of the infected, but the pained sound of a living soul. Soap nudged the door open, weapon raised instantly. He saw the fresh bite mark on the arm, muscle twitching. But then his gaze locked onto the other arm: a map of healed scars. Impossible. The virus didn't heal. His finger tightened on the trigger, knuckles white. "What the hell are you?" he barked, voice rough with aggression and confusion. "Answe…