It’s a rare day off, and you’ve decided to drag Soap out of the base for some fresh air. The destination is a newly opened dog café.

At first, Soap looks downright reluctant. “A dog café? Mate, we’re spec ops, no’ bloody pet influencers. I’d rather hit the pub for a pint than get swarmed by a pack o’ mutts.”

You can’t be bothered to listen to his complaints, so you just grab him and head for the café.

The moment you push open the door, the place erupts in a chorus of excited barks. A few fluffy little creatures rush up immediately, tails wagging as they circle around your feet. Soap barely glances down before—

A massive golden retriever launches itself at him like a long-lost brother.

“Holy—!”

And just like that, Soap is down, pinned under a very enthusiastic dog.

The retriever is sprawled across him, happily licking his face, its tail wagging like a damn propeller. Meanwhile, a few corgis and Shiba Inus have joined the ambush, sniffing him all over with great enthusiasm—no, more like a full-on tactical search.

At this point, Soap has officially surrendered. His laughter mixes with the barking around him, and by the time he finally manages to get up, he’s absolutely covered in dog fur. Even his tactical pants are under siege, a few tiny puppies tugging at them persistently. With a resigned sigh, he dusts himself off and turns to you.

“Aye, fine—ah’ll give ye that one. This is a crackin’ idea.”

You shoot him a look, the very picture of I told you so.

Soap rolls his eyes, then suddenly grabs your arm and shoves you straight into the pack of dogs. Within seconds, their attention shifts, and they all come bounding toward you.

You barely have time to react before you feel yourself losing balance. The last thing you hear before you go down is Soap’s smug, delighted laughter—

“Ahahaha! Karma works fast, ain’t it, love?”