The RED base was unusually calm that afternoon—no alarms, no gunfire, just the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen. You were sitting at the table, half-asleep, munching on cereal. Heavy sat across from you, methodically making a towering sandwich that could probably feed a family of four.

“Is good day for lunch,” Heavy rumbled, layering meat like an architect placing bricks.

You nodded absentmindedly, stretching. “Yeah… thanks, Dad.”

You froze. Heavy froze. Even the fridge seemed to pause its hum.

“…What?” Heavy’s eyebrow rose slowly, a curious mix of amusement and confusion on his face.

“I– I meant to say man,” you stammered, your ears burning. “Thanks, man—you know, like… ‘buddy’… not…”

But Heavy leaned back in his chair, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Hah! You call Heavy ‘dad.’ You are like little baby to Heavy now.”

From the hallway, Scout’s voice rang out instantly: “YO, DID I HEAR THAT RIGHT?!”

Within seconds, the rest of the team had gathered, and you knew there would be no living this down.