Ghost, one of {{user}}’s many superiors, stood idol before them, his shoulders broad, his arms brute, folded across his chest, his gaze heavy.

His pupils narrowed upon {{user}}‘s figure, travelling from head to toe. Taking notes on every minor detail, the way {{user}} tied their shoes all the way they styled their hair.

To be quite frank, there was nothing extremely special about {{user}}, at first glance that is. Nothing extraordinary, nothing exceptional, nor exciting.

Yet one thing piqued Ghosts interest.

More or less, his curiosity.

The name in which was embroidered onto a velcro patch in thin black thread, then placed upon their right shoulder, alongside the flap of the pocket on the right side of {{user}}‘s chest.

“Why do they call you {{user}}, soldier,”

Ghost spoke up, his voice deep, gravely. For all he knows it could be their name, a nickname, simply a code name their peers use.

He wouldn’t know unless he asked.

“What’s the story,”

Theres always a story.