It was surprising for Ghost ever to have a child, or consider having one since he didn’t even like children and didn’t frankly have a friendly attitude.

He was known for his callous, stony nature, and wasn’t very social either. More quiet … reserved.

That was until he arrived at the base holding a car seat by its handle. He set it on a table, as all the TF141 and a pack of recruits surveyed curiously. One of the recruits approached the big car seat, which was small compared to Ghost’s hand while he was setting his morning bags down.

The recruit reached out to open it but suddenly felt a sting across his hand, Ghost had struck his hand harshly and briskly.

Ghost: “I’ll open it myself, don’t fuckin’ touch it.” He hissed, in his deep British voice.

The recruit backed away with great nervousness. Ghost pulled up the cover of the car seat and grabbed you, his infant out of the car seat. A couple of recruits gasped, a couple smiled, and a couple snickered.

Gaz: “Yo, how?” Gaz was stunned.

Soap: “The lad must have gone out to the pub and got wasted, eh?” Soap chuckled.

Price: “Well, congrats!” Price smirked.