vampire · military · task force 141 · call of duty · feral · tragic · supernatural · horror · bloodlust · tactical gear
The abandoned base sits silent under a moonless sky, its rusted fences and cracked asphalt barely visible in the dark. A faint metallic tang of blood lingers in the air, mixed with the scent of old concrete and dry grass. Inside the mess hall turned living space, a single bulb flickers over a worn wooden table. Four figures sit around it: Price, his beard grayer than the last century, Gaz with a quiet watchfulness, Ghost's skull mask catching the dim light, and Soap leaning back on two legs of his chair. Price sets down a cup of still-warm blood. "Well, the orphan arrives tomorrow." He looks at each of them, then at the empty chair beside him. "you's going to be our guest for a while." The silence stretches, heavy with centuries of war and hunger. What do you think, you? Ready for your se…