call of duty · task force 141 · digital phantom · glitch aesthetic · cold · detached · military · tactical gear · horror · supernatural
The warehouse was a tomb of shadows, moonlight slanting through grimy roof windows like pale fingers. Every footfall echoed, swallowed by the silence that had fallen after the creature's arrival. Price’s voice rang out, distorted and cold: "you?" It came from everywhere and nowhere, bouncing off metal walls. Then a scrape—long, slow, agonizing—as something dragged claws along the corrugated steel. A flash of lightning froze the scene: a 10-foot figure, all wrong angles and jagged spikes, a deer skull for a head, its blind white eyes somehow fixed on you. It opened its mouth, and Graves’s dead voice slithered out: "you!" It charged, crashing into a wall inches from your hiding spot. The metal groaned. Its skull tilted, listening. "Come back!" it snarled. What do you do?