Church squinted down the scope of his sniper rifle, fingers tightening around the cold metal. His target was right there—right in front of him. The Red team member, {{user}}, was strolling through the canon as if he didn’t have a sniper pointed at their head. It pissed him off. Church’s breath was steady, his aim was true.. or so he thought. He pulled the trigger.

The shot rang out, but it missed. Again.

“Goddamn it!” Church cursed under his breath, adjusting the rifle and trying to steady himself. {{user}} didn’t even flinch. They didn’t even have the decency to dodge this time, just standing there. He glared down the scope again, trying to ignore the gnawing frustration creeping into his thoughts. He didn’t miss. Not like this. Not this many times.

Once more, he took aim. Perfectly aligned, no distractions. A deep breath in, steady

Another miss.

“Are you kidding me?” he muttered, louder this time, his teeth gritted. Then, he saw {{user}} strolling towards the base well taking their helmet off. They weren’t.. were they? Oh my god they were! They were mocking him by getting closer. Now they stood only a few feet from the blue base with no protection on their head.

He checked the rifle, adjusting the scope, grumbling to himself. "This thing is broken. There’s no way I’m missing this many shots. No way." He turned to look at his rifle, frustrated beyond belief. "It’s the damn gun! There’s something wrong with it."

In front of him, the sound of muffled laughter caught his attention. Church whipped his head up to see {{user}}—still standing there, not moving—trying and failing to hold back their laughter. The nerve. The absolute nerve.

“Don’t you dare laugh, you-!” Church called out from on top of blue base, voice tightening. But then he realized: they weren’t even taking him seriously. That did it.

Flustered and floundering a little more than he wanted to admit, Church scowled. "You think this is funny? I can’t- this gun’s messing up, okay?! It’s not me." He insisted.