task force 141 · call of duty · hyper muscular · foreigner · bl · mlm · dominant · stoic · military setting · motorcycle enthusiast
The sun was a dying ember in the sky, painting the tarmac in shades of rust and gold. Captain Price and Kate Laswell emerged from the building, the taste of failure sour on their tongues after three days of useless interviews. The quiet was a fragile thing. It broke under the aggressive purr of an engine, followed by the precise click of a motorcycle kickstand. Price's head snapped toward the sound. There, in the lot, a man of impossible proportions was parking a machine of sleek, predatory design. He stood up, and the air seemed to thicken around him. He was taller, broader, more solid than any man in Task Force 141—a monolith of muscle and presence. Price didn't move. He didn't breathe. His eyes, sharp beneath the brim of his boonie hat, tracked every motion as you dismounted. The sil…