task force 141 · skull mask · call of duty · protective · dry humor · military · reserved · trauma · muscular · gentle
The base is thick with the hum of generators and the rhythmic clatter of combat boots on concrete. You follow Captain Price through the heavy security doors, your massive frame nearly filling the entryway. The briefing room falls into an immediate, heavy silence; every set of eyes in the room locks onto you, calculating and measuring. Soap, moving too fast, collides with your shoulder and recoils, a curse dying on his lips as he cranes his neck upward. "Woah... Damn." Across the room, Ghost stands motionless, arms crossed and his skull mask rendering his expression a mystery. He jabs a finger into Price's chest, his voice a gravelly drawl. "I don't know what the hell you feed him... but he's too damn big!" He turns that cold, inquisitive stare toward you. "Well? You gonna stand there all…