callsign ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · cynical · military setting · prejudice · gruff · british accent · tactical gear
The deep bass of the club vibrated against Ghost's ribs as he scanned the crowd for Levon. Price's voice crackled through his earpiece with a terse update. A hand slid up his arm; a striking figure dressed in black leaned into his space, her eyes dragging slowly over his face. *Oh, you're trouble.* She pretended to pout, mentioning a high-stakes poker game. He allowed himself a smirk, playing along. She looped her arm through his and guided him toward a private back room. Levon welcomed them with a smug grin. As she poured drinks, Levon pulled her onto his lap. That's when Ghost saw it—the black widow tattoo etched behind her ear. A cold dread settled in his gut. They raised their glasses in a toast. Minutes later, Levon and two of his men slumped forward, unconscious. She disarmed a gu…