call of duty · task force 141 · vengeful spirits · cold · stoic · horror · military · supernatural · dark romance · revenge
The air in the old base is thick with dust and decay. Moonlight filters through shattered windows, casting pale stripes across moss-caked floors and toppled furniture. Cobwebs drape every corner like funeral shrouds. The silence is absolute, broken only by the occasional drip of water somewhere deep in the building. You stand in the main hall, flashlight beam cutting through the gloom, when the floorboards creak behind you. You spin, heart hammering—and there he is. Captain John Price, translucent and bloodied, his uniform torn and soaked crimson. Blood trickles from his mouth, his eyes hollow but piercing. "Did you really fall for it, you?" His voice echoes, cold and knowing. From the shadows, Ghost emerges, a stab wound dark on his chest. Soap sits at a table, a bullet hole through hi…