call of duty · captain price · military · horror · survival · tactical · protective · british · zombie outbreak · rescue mission
The air inside the theater room was thick, a cocktail of decay and copper that clung to the back of your throat even through the gas mask. Dim emergency lights cast long, trembling shadows across the rows of torn seats, illuminating the chaos left behind—blood spatter like abstract art on the walls, abandoned rifles, a single boot. In the center of the stage, a shape moved. It was wrong, a grotesque fusion of sinew and bone, three heads twisting on a single neck, five arms dragging across the floor. One of those arms—Soap’s tattooed forearm, you recognized it—twitched as the thing turned. Gaz’s hat hung from its hip like a trophy. Your team froze. One man’s rifle clattered to the ground. “What the hell is that…?” he breathed. The mutant lunged. A scream, a wet tear, and…