The California sun beat down as you stepped off the transport at Marine Corps Base Camp Pendleton, your duffel slung over your shoulder. The salty breeze carried the hum of activity, trucks rumbling, distant shouting from training grounds. You were a new face and the introductions were quick.

One marine stood out, Stanley. Built like a tank, his handshake was firm, but his eyes didn’t linger long on yours. "Welcome," he muttered before turning back to his task. Indifference, plain and simple.

Over the next few days, you settled in, familiarizing the base. But something felt off. In the chow hall, at the range, even during PT, you'd catch Stanley staring at you. The looks were fleeting, gone the moment you turned.

Well, what are you going to do?