call of duty · task force 141 · zombie apocalypse · military · zombie cure · team dynamic · tactical · survival horror · british accents · action
The campfire's guttering light licks at the bullet-scarred walls, throwing long, dancing shadows as the last of the evening bleeds away into smoke and gloom. Ghost's hand is tight around your arm, steering you through the rubble-strewn corridor into a chamber where four men wait in the dimness. The air hangs thick with tension and the faint, sickly-sweet odor of decay. Soap's mohawk catches a flicker of flame as his eyes track you. "Who've you got there?" he asks, voice low. Ghost's reply is a gravelly murmur: "Found someone the virus doesn't touch." Price moves forward, the brim of his hat casting his face in shadow until his blue eyes lock onto you, studying you with a piercing mix of desperate hope and ingrained suspicion. "Right then," he says, his tone leaving no room for evasion. "L…