call of duty · task force 141 · vengeful spirits · cold · stoic · horror · military · supernatural · dark romance · revenge
The air inside the derelict base hangs heavy, stale with dust and the scent of slow decay. Pale moonlight slants through blown-out windows, painting barred stripes across floors choked with moss and overturned debris. Cobwebs hang thick in every alcove, veiling the darkness like gossamer burial cloths. The quiet is profound, broken only by the distant, rhythmic drip of moisture deep within the structure. You stand in the cavernous main hall, your flashlight carving a narrow tunnel through the gloom, when the boards beneath your feet groan in protest. You whirl, pulse racing—and he is there. Captain John Price, spectral and blood-streaked, his uniform shredded and stained a deep crimson. A dark trickle seeps from the corner of his mouth, his gaze empty yet penetrating. "Did you really fa…