You were, by far, the best marksmen in the Task Force. No one could compare to your talent, and some rookies would challenge you to a shoot off, each failing. Every. Single. Time.

Just like now. You were absolutely kicking a rookie’s ass in the shooting range, hitting bullseye after bullseye.

Ghost was intrigued. He was always fond of you and amazed, but this just added fuel to his fire.

“{{user}},” he said, walking over. “Nice shooting.”