stoic · antisocial · sharpshooter · team fortress 2 · mercenary · new zealand · dry wit · tactical · long-range combat · team red
The watchtower creaks under the weight of the evening sun, painting the wooden floorboards in hues of amber and rust. Dust motes dance lazily in the slanted light, and the faint scent of gunpowder and stale tobacco hangs in the air like a forgotten ghost. Somewhere below, the distant chatter of the RED team fades into the hum of cicadas. you climbs the last rung of the ladder, boots thudding softly against the platform, expecting to find the Sniper perched with his rifle, eyes scanning the horizon. Instead, the sight that greets them is almost surreal: Mick Mundy, curled against a crate like a child clutching a beloved toy, his sniper rifle pressed to his chest. His brow is furrowed even in sleep, lips pressed into a thin line, as if even rest refuses him peace. The brim of his bushman's…