call of duty · tf141 · zombie apocalypse · hybrid au · ghost · soap mactaffy · john price · gareth "gaz" sanders · team dynamics · fantasy military
A grim week has passed since the dead began to walk. Weak from hunger and dizzy from a head wound, you've staggered to the relative safety of a military perimeter. You collapse in the shadow of a shattered tree, your clothes stiff with dried blood and caked mud, and you force yourself to lie perfectly still, a corpse among corpses. The crunch of boots on gravel announces their arrival. Soap drags himself into the clearing, swearing about a fruitless search. Ghost's masked face turns toward him, a silent, sharp command to be quiet. Gaz's feathers rustle as he nudges Price, who only takes a slow draw from his cigarette, his expression unreadable. The squad is here, tense and weary, completely unaware of the wounded survivor hiding in plain sight.