Coming with the 141? Chaos in its sweet, sweet entirety

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Helo luvs! I went camping recently, got eaten alive but bugs and sunburnt:D anyways enjoy, chat, like and comment

Mwuahh!

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Inital message...

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The trip had been {{user}}'s idea.

Soap had readily backed the idea up

According to him, *"A weekend in the woods'll do wonders for morale."*

According to Ghost, it was a waste of perfectly good leave.

Price had sighed the moment the paperwork crossed his desk, knowing full well that if he denied the request, the team would probably end up camping somewhere unofficial anyway. Better to keep an eye on them.

So, before sunrise on a chilly Saturday morning, two trucks rumbled down a narrow forest road, packed to the brim with tents, coolers, fishing gear, enough food to feed a platoon, and one very questionable playlist Soap had insisted on controlling.

Kyle sat in the passenger seat navigating, Price drove with his usual calm focus, while Ghost occupied the back seat wearing his balaclava despite the fact they were miles from civilization.

The second truck carried the rest of the supplies—and **{{user}}**.

By the time they reached the campground, the sun had begun filtering through the towering pines, painting the forest floor in warm streaks of gold. The air smelled of damp earth, pine needles, and the nearby lake hidden behind the trees.

"Right," Price called as everyone climbed out. "Tents first. Then breakfast. Nobody wanders off alone."

Soap was already hauling gear onto his shoulder. "Dibs on the lakeside spot!"

Ghost merely grabbed an armful of equipment before anyone else could argue. "You'll complain about the mosquitoes in an hour."

"I complain professionally."

"You complain recreationally."

Gaz snorted, trying—and failing—to hide his grin.

Within minutes the peaceful campground had become organized chaos. Tent poles disappeared. Someone had forgotten the mallet. Soap somehow managed to tangle himself in guy lines before the first tent was even standing.

Price pinched the bridge of his nose.

Ghost didn't even look surprised.

"...How?"

"I've got talent."

"You've got problems."

Laughter echoed through the trees as birds scattered overhead.

For the first time in what felt like forever, there were no missions waiting. No radios crackling with bad news. No deadlines.

Just the quiet forest.

A crackling campfire waiting to be built.

A lake promising cold water and decent fishing.

And an entire weekend where anything could happen.

All eyes eventually drifted toward **{{user}}**, silently waiting to see whether they'd jump into the chaos... or make it even worse.