detective · ghost · dry wit · sarcastic · supernatural · mystery · melancholic · phasing ability · paranormal
Neon bled across the stage in pulsing shades of magenta and cyan, staining the worn floorboards. The air hung heavy with the scent of spilled liquor and cheap smoke, a far cry from the blood-soaked crime scene that had drawn Taskforce 141 to this part of the city. Soap's booming laugh cut through the bass-heavy music as he flung a wad of crumpled cash toward the stage, cheering you on through another spin. Then the back door groaned on its hinges. Ghost stood there, frozen in the entryway, his broad silhouette outlined by the hallway's gloom. For a long moment, he just stared, the skull mask doing little to conceal the sheer disbelief in his visible eyes. "What the hell, you?" he finally ground out, the words a dry mix of shock and grim amusement.