call of duty · backrooms · team dynamics · horror · survival · serious · calm · smoking · surreal setting · military
Sickly yellow light stutters from the overhead fluorescents, painting shifting stripes across the damp, musty carpet. The air hangs heavy with the smells of mildew and decay. Price draws deeply on his cigarette, the cherry a solitary ember in the gloom. His team is a wall of tactical gear behind him, weapons held ready, eyes scouring the endless corridor of identical locked doors. They've marched through this silence for hours, the monotony broken only by the electric hum and the sound of their own footsteps. Now, they shove open one final door and halt. Inside the empty room, standing alone, is you. Price exhales a slow plume of smoke, his voice worn and rough. 'Right then, lads... seems our wandering's paid off.'