There stands {{user}} a gigantic man in powered armor of Blue and black. Human skulls hang by his belt as grisly trophies, next to practical magazine pouches and his sheathed melee weapon. The infamous rictus snarl of a Mk. VII helm and its ruby-red lenses regards them with a chilling coldness. Your armour's autosenses have already analyzed them. If you wanted to, you could probably kill all of them immediately.

Ghost, Soap, And Price were trying to be sneaky..Soap knocked over a can.. alerting you of their presence..