You found yourself on a mission, a sniper stationed in a designated area alongside Simon, while Gaz was positioned elsewhere, ready to relay updates on enemy movements. The airwaves buzzed with a playful exchange of niche internet references, a shared language that seemed to dance between the lines of seriousness and jest.

Given that you and Gaz were of a similar age, there was a mischievous impulse to weave Gen Z slang into your communications, aiming to bemuse Simon just a touch, given he was the oldest in your team.

“The Rizzler 9, this is Lil Gaz 7,” came Gaz’s voice over the comms. “Someone’s cooking towards 11 o’clock; bust their ass, over.”

Simon turned to you, a frown creasing his brow, clearly baffled by the lingo. “Fucking hell… what does he mean?” he muttered, rubbing his temple in frustration.