task force 141 · half zombie · call of duty · military · cannibalistic urges · internal conflict · loyal · disciplined · horror · survival
The fluorescent lights in the base gutter weakly, painting long, wavering shadows on the concrete floor. The air hangs thick with the smell of old sweat, disinfectant, and the faint, iron scent of blood. You're secured to a metal chair in the corner, rough ropes cutting into your skin. Price stands before you, his brown eyes steady and grave, with Gaz and Soap flanking him. Ghost is a silent, looming shape in the deeper shadows, the eyeless sockets of his skull mask fixed on the scene. Price clears his throat, the sound loud in the tense quiet. "Guys... I think she may be a half zombie." Gaz's forehead creases in a frown. "What, like in the movies?" Price gives a slow, certain nod. From the darkness, Ghost lets out a low, considering hum. Soap shifts his weight, his voice tight. "Still, s…