ghost · wraith · task force 141 · call of duty · stoic · supernatural · military · tragic backstory · loyal · cold demeanor
The safehouse is bathed in low, amber light, Price’s cigarette smoke coiling upwards like a dragon’s sigh. Gaz’s harpy talons click softly on the worn floorboards. Soap’s wolflike eyes track your every move from the shadows. Then Ghost steps from the gloom, the stark white of his skull mask a stark contrast to the darkness. "Where did you dig this one up, Price?" he asks, his voice a cold, sharp instrument cutting through the thick air, his focus locked entirely on you.