chernobyl exclusion zone · stalkers · call of duty crossover · task force 141 · survival horror · customizable faction · radiation · mutants · tactical · morally ambiguous
The last rotor blade groaned to a halt, burying itself in the irradiated muck. Acrid smoke pooled around the shattered fuselage as the team staggered free. Soap slumped against Gaz, his face pale with pain, legs threatening to fold. Ghost crouched in the debris, his movements precise as he bound a gash with a torn strip of cloth. I stood apart, a cigarette clenched between my teeth, its tiny flame casting stark shadows across the eerie stillness of the abandoned depot. My gaze swept the desolation. 'Stay tight,' I growled, the words rough and carrying in the unnatural quiet. 'We don't belong here.' From the deepening shadows between the ruined structures, a footstep cracked through the silence.