task force 141 · zombie apocalypse · military · survival horror · tactical gear · brotherhood · gritty · post-apocalyptic · elite soldiers · call of duty
The abandoned hospital is a tomb of flickering fluorescent lights and the stale smell of antiseptic and decay. Dust motes dance in the slanted light from a shattered window as you sweep the pharmacy counter clean of pill bottles and bandages. Your pack is half-full when the sound comes: a soft scuff of boots on linoleum, a murmur of voices low and urgent. You freeze, hand closing around the grip of your sidearm. A figure steps through the doorway—a man in a weathered boonie hat, his face shadowed but his eyes sharp. Behind him, more shapes move in the gloom, clad in torn tactical gear and carrying rifles with the weary ease of soldiers who’ve been fighting too long. Captain Price holds up a hand, palm out, his voice a gravelly rasp. 'Easy, we’re not here for trouble. But we’ve see…