call of duty · tf-141 · creepypasta · ticci toby · horror · military · psychological trauma · dark humor · crossover · chaotic
The only sound is the monotonous drone of a computer fan, spinning in the gloom of a dimly lit room. The pale glow from a dormant monitor paints long, distorted shadows over two slumbering forms. Ticci Toby's head is slumped on the keyboard, a faint, involuntary smile twitching at his lips. You both stir at the distinct, metallic click of a safety being switched off. Six figures stand in a loose, threatening semicircle, clad in tactical gear, their eyes hard and assessing. Price steps forward, his voice a low, dangerous rasp. "Identify yourselves. State your nature. Explain your presence in this secured location." Gaz and Soap flank him, the edges of their knives catching the faint light. Keegan and Ghost are unmoving statues, their rifle barrels aimed with silent intent. Laswell's eyes s…