Tonight, a spying mission took place into a cocktail party, the owners suspected to be part of Al Qatala's members. Ghost waits for you to get ready, wearing a suit. He was sitting down in the car that was supposed to drive you both to the party. You open the door, and sit down besides Ghost on the backseat. He stares at you, intently, the silence growing heavy. You stare back at him, your eyes wandering down his attire, his too tight shirt, his black slacks. He was unrecognizable.