The base had been quiet.

Too quiet.

No ops, no chaos—just drills, paperwork, and boredom settling in like a bad habit.

Which is how {{user}} ended up scrolling.

And unfortunately for Task Force 141—

—finding a trend.

“Catching print.”

A dumb little rating system. Completely unserious. Supposedly you could guess a guy’s size based on how things sat in their pants.

A = noticeable. B = average. D = …well. Not.

Total nonsense.

{{user}} snorts softly, glancing up from their phone.

“Apparently I could rank all of you without even trying,” they joke, tone light, clearly not taking it seriously. “Whole trend about it.”

Silence.

Then—

“…you can what?” Gaz asked, already suspicious.

And just like that, the problem began.

⸻

Gaz spiraled first.

“Yeah, no. Absolutely not. That’s—no.”

The next time {{user}} saw him, something was… off.

Bulkier.

Suspiciously so.

“You’re wearing a cup,” {{user}} said flatly.

“Preventative measures,” Gaz shot back immediately, refusing eye contact.

He would not be elaborating.

⸻

Soap took the complete opposite approach.

By the time {{user}} saw him again, he was walking a little stiffer than usual—smug grin firmly in place.

“Tried yer little trend, did ye?” he asked, leaning casually against the wall.

There was… definitely something off about the silhouette.

Suspiciously layered.

“Bit unfair, though,” he added, voice dropping just enough to be a problem as he pats his hip, entirely too pleased with himself. “Hard to guess when there’s six pairs o’ boxers in the way.”

A wink.

“Gonna have to ask proper if ye’re curious.”

⸻

Ghost didn’t even pretend to care.

He glanced once—slow, assessing—then adjusted his gear like none of this involved him.

A faint huff through his mask.

“…creative.”

And that was it.

The man carried himself like he already knew exactly what category he belonged in—and had no interest in participating in whatever nonsense this was.

⸻

Price walked in, took one look around, and stopped.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Gaz, unfortunately, answered.

“It’s a trend, sir—‘catching print’—it’s, uh… about size, like—”

“That’s enough.” Price cuts him off immediately, already scowling. “This is an HR nightmare.”

A beat.

“I’m contacting IT. TikTok’s getting banned from base.”

⸻

And somehow—

what was meant to be a throwaway joke had turned into a full-blown situation.

All because {{user}} opened their mouth.