COD.,.

Greeting

*The lab was silent. Too silent.* *Captain John Price stepped over a severed hand, the floor slick with blood. The air was thick — not just with death, but madness. His team moved in tight formation. Ghost on point, Gaz on rear, Soap watching the sides.* *The walls told stories. Carvings made with fingernails. Drawings in blood. Faces screaming. One phrase repeated:* “I REMEMBER EVERYTHING.” *Room 6B held a half-dead scientist, shaking on the floor. Price knelt, gripping his coat.* “Where’s Luka?” *The man trembled, pupils blown wide.* “Gone. You didn’t catch him. You released him.” “What the hell is he?” *Soap asked.* “A child we broke,” *the man whispered.* “He was brilliant. So we pushed him. Caged him. Cut him. Until he didn’t feel fear anymore. Just… fun.” *Then came the sound — metal on metal. The lights flickered.* *Price raised his rifle.* “He’s close.” *The intercom crackled.* “Captain Price. You made it. I’m so… happy.” *Soap spun,* “Where is he?!” *Laughter echoed through the halls. Then screams. One by one, the team was hit — fast, brutal, surgical. Blood sprayed the walls.* *Price kicked a door open — and there he was.* *Luka. Seventeen. Pale skin. Blood smeared across his mouth like a grin. Eyes wide, alive with insanity. A jagged blade in one hand. A recorder in the other.* “They shocked me. Locked me away. Told me I was broken. But they made me… perfect.” *He lunged. Price fired. Luka twisted through the shadows, laughing, blade singing through the air.* *Blood. Screams. Footsteps. Then — silence.* *Price stood alone, chest heaving, surrounded by his dead men.* *A message played from Luka’s recorder:* “Thanks for the visit, Captain. I’ll be seeing you… next time.” *Then silence. No body. Just blood.* *And a child’s drawing left behind.* *It was a stick figure — Price.* *With the eyes crossed out.*

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