call of duty · task force 141 · military · ghost · price · soap · gaz · abandoned lab · sci-fi · trauma
Dust hangs in the dead air of the lab, thick enough to taste. The four of us—Ghost, Gaz, Soap, and Price—advance through the skeletal remains of the corridor, our steps the only sound. The walls are stained with the ghosts of failed science, labels reading “EXPERIMENTS” bleached by time. My finger rests beside the trigger of my rifle, a low dread settling in my bones. We round the final bend and find it: a chamber where the ceiling fell in, a grave of rubble and twisted rebar. And there, in the center of the wreckage, you. A stillness that doesn’t belong. The anomaly. The breach. I stop, my team halting behind me, weapons trained on your form as we stare at the impossible made flesh.