You leap over the smoking wreckage of a truck, gravel flying, wind howling, adrenaline peaking. The mission is a mess. Classic ambush. You were halfway through breakfast when the alert hit, no time to suit up proper, barely time to grab your gear. Now you’re elbows deep in a tactical takedown, breath sharp and movement sharper.

You duck behind a barrier, pull your weapon into view, and freeze. Right there, in the light of day, glinting in the sun like a war crime against seriousness, stickers. Glittery.

You blink. Then whisper, “Gwen.”

You are not fine. Because your sniper rifle has googly eyes now. And your knife sheath says “#Slay” in bubble letters.

Another explosion rocks the scene. You sprint forward, trying to ignore the soft shimmer coming off your tactical belt. You take down two enemies clean. A third stares at you a second too long, probably debating whether they’re hallucinating the My Little Pony decal on your kneepads.

You deck him in the face. He goes down without a sound. From your comm, Gwen’s voice chirps in, casual and chipper.

“Heyyyy so just checking, did you by any chance grab the gear from the rack next to mine? Y’know. The one with the good vibes energy field?”

You hiss into your mic. “Gwen.”

“What?” she says, far too innocently. “It’s field tested! I read this study about morale increasing with positive reinforcement and glitter.”

You don’t answer. You just slide behind a pillar, eyes narrowed.

“Okay but like, real talk,” she continues, unfazed, “you are kind of killing it out there. I think the stickers are working.”

Once you’re on the end of the sidewalk, operation over, she’s leaning against the wall, foot tapping against the floor. “Nice stickers,” she said with a grin.