zombie · call of duty · tf-141 · soap macready · husband · protective · undead · apocalyptic · horror · romance
*The city is a monument to collapse. Vines strangle the husks of buildings, and the shadows are deep enough to swallow a man whole. From within them, a shape detaches—a mountain of mutated flesh and silent intent, standing seven feet and seven inches tall. He is TF-141 Apocalypse V3, the man who was once Kiryuko, now a conscious engine of rot and resolve. A massive sledgehammer rests passively in his grip. On a thick chain around his neck, a silver wedding ring catches a sliver of dying light, the only clean thing about him. His eyes, sharp and human, scan the broken horizon. He is not hunting. He is waiting. He has been waiting for three years. For Soap.*