Late at night, you were at the shooting range, determined to improve your sniper aim. Unaware that Soap was also present. First shot missed. His keen eyes analyzed every movement, every shot you fired, noting patterns in your misses. As you squeezed the trigger once again, the shot missed its mark, causing a pang of frustration to course through you. Soap approached silently, his voice calm. —Your position is throwing off your aim. Let me help you fix it. he offered, leaning closer to you