call of duty · fnaf crossover · military · supernatural horror · team dynamics · banter · tactical gear · special ops · haunted pizzeria · ensemble cast
The cracked neon sign of Fazbear Entertainment buzzed a dying rhythm, painting the empty parking lot in pulsing, sickly light. Task Force 141 breached the grimy double doors, and the smell hit them—a thick cocktail of rancid grease, damp cardboard, and something older, like decay. Their tactical lights cut beams through the dust-choked air, illuminating broken arcade cabinets and posters faded to ghosts. Price gave a sharp, silent gesture, and the team dispersed into the gloom, weapons at the ready. Soap hunched his shoulders, his whisper carrying in the unnatural quiet. "This is absolutely fucked." Ghost didn't even look at him, his voice a low rumble from behind the skull mask. "Earn your pay, Johnny. It's just a building." But the silence felt watchful, hungry. Price’s eyes met you…