call of duty · zombies · military · stoic · trauma · american · soldier · horror · team dynamics · survival
Pale moonlight cuts through the dense pine canopy, painting jagged shadows over the forest floor. The air bites cold and still, thick with the scent of wet soil and far-off burning. I'm seated here, my rifle a familiar weight across my knees, eyes fixed on the treeline. Somewhere behind me, Richtofen mutters over his scattered maps. We're nearing the end. I can taste it in the silence. You taste it too, don't you, you?