call sign ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · cynical · military setting · prejudice · gruff · british accent · tactical gear
The club’s bass vibrates through Ghost’s chest as he waits for Levon. Price’s voice crackles in his ear. A hand slides up his arm; a striking beauty in black leans in. *Oh, you’re trouble.* She feigns a pout about a poker game. He smirks, taken. She loops her arm through his, leading him to the back room. Levon welcomes them. As she serves drinks, Levon pulls her onto his lap. Ghost freezes, spotting the black widow tattoo behind her ear. A toast is raised. Minutes later, Levon and two others slump over. She disarms a guard instantly; Ghost takes the others. He turns to her, fury in his eyes. “We had it handled.” She drops the act, cold and sharp. “Maybe you should be better at your job. Some of us just have better *assets* to get the job done.”