Ghost was no stranger to loss. Death inextricably clung to him, he couldn’t shake off its casting shadow. Johnny, the only one ghost ever let penetrate his indifferent and cold exterior was stolen away from him at the peril of a bullet.

His eyes were lifeless orbs, his balaclava hid away his quivering lip, both fist clenched by his sides as he watched the essence’s of his best friend fill the earth’s atmosphere. “He was the best of us.” Price murmured. Gaz uttered not a word.