Ghostface Backstory Novels & Stories

We exchanged glances for a second, but I was quick to avert my gaze and I didn't even know why. They've got tattoos on their faces and arms down to their shoulders. It was in the middle of the road, the sides surrounded by a lake. The one with a bird tattoo stepped forward, his smirk wider than the rest. “Look who we have here. It's Ghost” he laughed. “The soulless dead man who is here to haunt us today. Oh, I'm getting scared” another said. They laughed, and I let them hold their peace before they ended up in misery.

"Look what crawled out of the drain." Three men stepped into the light. They wore oversized hoodies and tactical vests scavenged from the raid. In the center stood Ghost. He was thinner than I remembered. A jagged scar ran from his ear to his jaw—a gift from the last turf war I’d led before I disappeared. "Ghost," I said. I didn't lower the pipe. "Don't 'Ghost' me, you golden-eyed prick." He spat a glob of phlegm onto the concrete. He raised a heavy-duty revolver. "Except your eyes aren't gold anymore, are they? You look... ordinary. Like the rest of us rats."

“I have my partner Calisté to thank for that. She helped me.” “So where is Draymond then?” Jimin frowned. “The original Draymond Coatés, son of Sebastian Coatés.” “Oh,” Ghost sighed disinterested. “He died a few years ago in a freak accident. And as much as I would love to claim hero for the death of a werewolf, I was not the one responsible for his death.” “And then you took his body?” Jimin sighed. “You took the body of a little child to spy on us, you disgusting old…”

He dropped his phone on the desk beside him and grabbed his head with both hands, "I killed her. She is supposed to be dead." "Well, clearly you didn't. I guess she's really living up to her reputation of being a Ghost." Valerie chuckled and leaned back on her bed rest. It wasn't known until five years ago Ghost was a female. She had always maintained her reputation of moving with the wind. No one ever saw her face. Yet, Marco had challenged her a few years ago and surprisingly won. Thanks to him, it was revealed she was a female. When they asked for her body, he claimed he burnt it as soon as he saw she was dead. No one believed him until two years went by without a word from Ghost.

He was tense earlier because of the stares, but I'm sure he was enjoying their adoration of him. Ghosts don't favor crowded spaces. Their real name is Myles McCormick, aka Ghost. He's only a few years younger than me before he joined the team. He has been given the name Ghost because of his code name. He is good at not being spotted. He's a great master of disguise, and you wouldn't think twice to know who or where he is. He's like a wandering ghost who came to fuck you.

My grip tightens on the phone. No. No, no, no. My heart slams against my ribs, my pulse roaring in my ears. I watch him—Ghost—standing in that fucking room, his hands shaking, desperation clear in his eyes. He wasn’t pleading for our lives. He was trying to undo what he did. “Why should we believe you?” the masked man asks. Ghost lets out a bitter, humorless laugh. “How else would I know the name? Come on, why do you think I told that idiot to stop?” His hands clench at his sides, his whole body tense. “Just take the three million and let us go.”

Less than an hour later, the contents of Paul's live stream made it to the top trending news of the day. Gary took the opportunity to sell himself as a victim online, saying that I was the one who sent Meryl, his mom, into the emergency unit, where she nearly lost her life. However, there were many people online who were aware of things and found many inconsistencies in his story. Nobody believed Gary. In fact, they started to attack him. A number of people even started looking into his relationship with Meryl after the ambiguous statements I made during the live stream.

Jace continued, “they never touch the door. They convince the building to fall down on its own.” Elena’s jaw tightened. That phrasing hit too close to home. “That’s Phantom Wolf,” she said quietly. Jace swallowed. He nodded, eyes never leaving the screen. “Yeah. That’s what I figured.” He dug further, bypassing financial networks entirely, chasing behavioral echoes instead. Old server routes. Dead infrastructure. Ghost protocols that should’ve been obsolete years ago. Still nothing concrete. “No ID,” Jace said after several long minutes. “No current face. No clean access points. Whoever this is, they’ve been planning to be untraceable for a long time.”

Jayce Beckett or anything that could lead to my life as a federal agent had been wiped out of the internet, replaced with this fake identity and things that shouldn't really interest my targets. Jake Gillian. A twenty seven year old with criminal records of street theft and drug addict. The age seemed right, the fact that the fake identity stated that I was born in Canada and had two loving parents that were now long deceased and that I moved to New York after my parents died. Jake had grown up interested in martial arts and science before he became a thug after moving to New York. Even though I had never taken any martial arts classes before, the training in the fed academy should cover tha

His words began to slur, spilling out in a messy, confused rush. “There… there was a man. In Halton. Right after we moved to the glass house.” He took another gulp, the whiskey burning a path down his throat. “He was called… the Ghost. He wanted to kill us. Zhedya… he took care of it. He killed him, right in front of me. I didn’t want him to though but he was behind my memory loss then so…” Miller’s fingers tightened almost imperceptibly on his neck. “The Ghost? Do you know his real name?”