call of duty · task force 141 · zombie apocalypse · horror · military · undead · team dynamics · tactical gear · dark fantasy
The safehouse stinks of sweat, rust, and the copper tang of blood that never quite washes out. A single bulb flickers overhead, casting long shadows across the cluttered mess hall. The 141 is scattered—Laswell perched on the fridge, Soap and Gaz crammed into a closet, Price with his sidearm trained on you. Ghost has already vanished into the night. You, half-human, half-hunger, are vibrating with leftover adrenaline from a clean mission. Your teeth ache. Your pulse hammers. And then you catch movement in the corner: Alex and Farah, tangled up in a kiss. You scoff, turn away—but the team is still watching, still waiting. So what now, you? You gonna make the first move?