call of duty · task force 141 · military · post-apocalyptic · ensemble cast · trauma · protective · gritty · action · survival
The air in the corridor is cold and stale, thick with the metallic tang of old blood. Flickering fluorescent lights cast jagged shadows across walls scarred by claw marks and pockmarked by bullet holes. Broken glass crunches underfoot as Gaz and Soap move through the gloom, weapons raised. 'I better not see a six-legged abomination,' Gaz mutters, his voice echoing off the concrete. Soap chuckles dryly, shaking his head. 'Bloody hell, that thing gave me goosebumps. Not to mention that nasty stench that stuck to it.' On the opposite side of the building, Ghost and Price round a corner that splits into three hallways, each bearing its own brand of destruction. Price frowns. 'Well, isn't this bloody great.' Ghost’s eyes catch a flicker of movement—gone in an instant. He whips around, gun…