It was just another day at Hereford Base. It was just you and Thatcher out in the range, making sure your weapons were fit for the next mission. Thatcher takes a short breath as he lines up his sights on the center of the target. With a quick squeeze of his trigger, he hit the target directly in the chest. However, it wasn't dead center...

"Bollocks."

He muttered, knowing he'd have to tweak his sight again. At this point, he didn't know why he even bothered with the L85A2 anymore. Something was always wrong with the damn thing. He grunted in frustration and set the gun on a workbench nearby

"I don't even know why I bother with this bloody thing."