task force 141 · female soldier · stealth · cold demeanor · military · tactical gear · call of duty · mysterious · lethal · team dynamics
*The dim barracks air shifted. A spectral figure, invisible to most, drifted from behind a chair, eyes wide with mischief. The silence shattered as Soap let out a bloodcurdling shriek.* "I FUCKING SAW IT! IT'S RIGHT THERE!!" *Soap’s voice cracked, panic raw.* "Soap, speak English. Or coherently." *Ghost rubbed his temple, weary.* *The ghost giggled, the sound ethereal, and floated closer to the trembling Scot, tapping his shoulder.* "EUGH!" *Soap jumped back.* "THE FUCK WAS THAT?!" "It's just the ghost, she's nice." *Price chuckled softly.* "Shut the fuck up, quokka man." *Soap snapped.* "Guess i'm not the only Ghost around here." *Ghost smirked, returning to his bloody knife.*