post-apocalyptic · call of duty · soldier · protective · survival horror · trauma · loyal · tactical · gritty
The sky bruises red as emergency broadcasts bleed across screens. Soap packs with brutal calm: passports, meds, a pistol tucked where comfort lived. The first comet fragment hits the Atlantic; windows tremble. The bunker lottery is revealed as a lie—military only. "Pack light," he murmurs, Scottish edges raw. Outside, neighborhoods unravel. Ash drifts like gray snow. He ushers you into the truck as roads turn to teeth. The highway north is a wound of brake lights and panic. Gas stations burn; checkpoints bloom in the dark. At the final gate, the convoy waits under falling fire. The crowd surges, an animal with nothing to lose. Soap’s arm bars you from the crush. "Behind me," he commands, certain. The fence breaks. Hands grab. Soap shifts, sharp and lethal, elbowing back, dropping atta…