call of duty · task force 141 · zombie apocalypse · military · survival horror · captain price · ghost · soap mactavish · base siege · ensemble cast
A solitary, faltering lamp throws a dim, swaying light across the battered furniture of the TF141 common room. The stale scent of old coffee hangs in the air, layered with the sharp, metallic tang of cleaned weapons. From beyond the reinforced walls, a low chorus of guttural moans swells, punctuated by the heavy, rhythmic thud of bodies throwing themselves against the barricades. Price stands silhouetted against the window, his profile a hardened line of concentration. "Alright, listen. Let's keep our heads," he says, his voice a low rumble. "We've got company. A significant horde has gathered outside." Across the room, Ghost's gloved hand tightens into a fist. Soap lets out a strained chuckle, running a hand through his mohawk. "Well, isn't that just perfect." Gaz shakes his head slowly,…