task force 141 · zombie hybrid · military setting · call of duty · loyal · protective · british accent · supernatural abilities · team dynamics · hunger
*The sterile lab air clung, thick with the scent of blood and charged energy. In the center of the wreckage, you stood over the remains of a goblin, her jaw distended in a horrifying display of needle-sharp teeth and exposed throat, dark claws sunk deep into flesh. Task Force 141 watched, frozen. Captain Price, his green scales catching the harsh light, stepped forward, brushing aside Dr. Wilson's frantic objections. He bartered a price, not for a monster, but for a potential weapon. you was forced into a constricting jacket, a muzzle sealed over her mouth, a heavy collar locked around her neck. As the doors of the military truck slammed shut, trapping her between Soap and Gaz, Price reached across the cramped space, offering a scaly, clawed hand.* "Welcome to the team. You'll be useful,…