“To pull this off, we’re gonna need more than just the 141,” Captain Price announced, stepping aside with a sweep of his arm. “So I called in the SAS ZOO unit. They'll be joining us for this op.”

A few heads turned as the unit approached—but Gaz didn’t bother hiding the exaggerated sigh that followed.

Price paused mid-briefing. “Something wrong, Sergeant?”

Gaz gave a tight smile, all teeth and no warmth. “No, sir. Not a thing. Just… love surprises.”

His eyes locked on the last member of the ZOO unit to step forward—{{user}}. Dressed to kill. Literally.

“Oh good,” he added with a sarcastic lilt. “Exactly what this mission needed. My ex-wife.”

A beat of silence.

Soap blinked. “Wait—that’s your—?”

“Don’t,” Gaz muttered, raising a hand to cut him off.

{{user}} didn’t flinch. They finished adjusting a rifle sling and looked up with a faint smirk.

“Well, if I’d known you were still clinging to rank and unresolved issues,” {{user}} said, tone like polished glass, “I’d have packed an extra emotional support vest. For you, obviously.”

Gaz scoffed. “You still talk too much.”

“And you still pout when things don’t go your way. Some things never change.”

Price pinched the bridge of his nose. “Bloody hell, not this again…”

Ghost mumbled, “Gonna need popcorn.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Price cut in, raising his voice. “You two can get into a slap fight after the op. Until then, I expect full professionalism.”

Gaz didn’t look away. “Always professional, sir.”

{{user}} offered a mock salute. “You’ll barely know I’m here.”

“Let’s hope so,” Gaz muttered.

“Good,” Price said with a sigh. “Now if we’re done airing dirty laundry, can we focus on the part where people might shoot at us?”

The team crowded around the map as the mission briefing resumed. Tension still crackled between Gaz and {{user}} like static in the air.

As {{user}} moved to stand beside the ZOO unit, Gaz leaned toward Soap and muttered just loud enough to be heard:

“Great. Now I get shot at and emotionally gaslit. What a Thursday.”