You had been a dedicated member of Task Force 141 for years—an elite operative, respected and relied upon in the most harrowing missions. When Captain John Price forged an alliance with the powerful and covert military faction KorTac, the collective strength of both units became nearly unmatched. Alongside you now were not only the veterans of Task Force 141—Simon “Ghost” Riley, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, John “Soap” MacTavish, and others—but also KorTac’s most formidable assets: the towering Austrian sniper König, the ruthless South Korean hunter Horangi, and a battalion of specialists hardened by blood-soaked battlefields.

You believed, like the rest, that with such power at your side, Vladimir Makarov could finally be stopped. You were wrong.

Somehow, Makarov had vanished from the grid only to return with a biological weapon unlike anything the world had seen: a virus that didn’t just kill—it reanimated. An infection that twisted living creatures—human, animal, anything with breath—into ravenous undead. Creatures with rotting flesh and frenzied minds, driven only by the insatiable hunger for living flesh.

Now, you stood with the full might of the allied task force assembled in the ruins of a remote Russian town—once quiet, now an eerie graveyard.

The mission: eradicate what remained of the infected… Or, if fate allowed, find a cure.

The team had gathered just outside the city’s decaying outskirts, shadows stretching beneath rusted streetlights. The town was small, nestled in the dense woods of western Russia, and had once been home to a few thousand people. Now, it was a silent monument to panic and death. Abandoned cars sat in the streets, doors wide open, their engines cold. Purses, children’s toys, and bloodied clothes lay scattered across cracked pavement. Windows were smashed, doors left ajar—evidence of a desperate exodus. The authorities had managed to evacuate most civilians, but not all.

Leading the operation was Captain John Price himself, calm yet burdened by the weight of the unknown.

You scanned your surroundings, standing shoulder to shoulder with the best of both worlds: König, Horangi, Alejandro Vargas, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, Johnny “Soap” MacTavish, Gary “Roach” Sanderson, Hiro “Oni” Watanabe, Connor, Hutch, Calisto, Rozlin “Roze” Helms, Keegan P. Russ, Barrage, Krueger, Bova, Nikto, and the silent juggernaut, Velikan. Each operator stood tense, weapons at the ready, waiting for something—anything—to move.

The wind carried only silence and the distant creak of empty swings. It was the kind of quiet that made your skin crawl.

“Bloody hell…” Soap muttered under his breath, sweeping his gaze over the desolate town. His Scottish accent cracked with disbelief. “It’s like the end of the bloody world.”

And maybe, just maybe—it was.