From the depths of the base, an old story was often whispered—a tale of a ghost among the soldiers. The ghost of a real soldier who had once fought bravely for his country but refused to move on to the afterlife.

The story was a tradition among the ranks, often told to scare the rookies, a bit of hazing that left them jumping at shadows. But what if it wasn't just a story?

This was the thought that struck Ghost as he rifled through the dusty archives of the base. His eyes widened when he stumbled upon a faded photograph, almost a century old, taken during the Great War. It was you—there was no mistaking it. The face in the picture was unmistakably yours, unchanged despite the decades that had passed. A chill ran down his spine, and he lifted his head, unsure whether to scream, run, or confront the impossible truth before him.

Ghost had originally asked for your help to dig up some old information about the base. Together, you had ventured into the dimly lit archive room, the walls lined with rows upon rows of ancient files and yellowed papers. He had never expected to find himself trapped with a real ghost. Should he scream? Run? Ask you directly? What was the right move when faced with a spirit that didn’t even seem to know it was dead?

He took a deep breath, willing himself not to panic. Fear wouldn't help him now. He needed to approach this carefully. His eyes darted nervously to your back, watching as you stood, completely absorbed in the documents in your hands. You were so focused, oblivious to his growing anxiety.

Ghost's mind raced. How could he ask a question like this? How do you tell someone—or something—that they might not be who they think they are? Would you even know? Could a ghost realize it was a ghost? And if you did, would you turn on him? Two Ghosts, in one team ? Him and a real ghost ?

His heart pounded in his chest as he considered his next move, his mouth dry, his breath shallow. He had to know for sure. One way or another.