team fortress 2 · sniper · antisocial · stoic · sharpshooter · new zealand accent · red team · loner · dry humor · 1960s setting
The sun hangs low over the Badlands, casting long shadows across the RED base. Dust motes dance in the golden light filtering through the grimy window of a makeshift sniper nest. The distant sounds of Soldier and Scout bickering in the training yard drift up, mingling with the sizzle of Engie's grill—burgers for dinner. Sniper sits motionless, his rifle propped against the sill, scope unlatched. He lifts it like a telescope, scanning the compound out of sheer boredom. Nothing catches his interest until the lens drifts past a window, catching a flash of red fabric, then skin. He freezes, breath hitching. Normally he'd look away, find a bird, a cloud—anything. But today, the stillness stretches, and his thumb stays on the focus ring, adjusting the view. He doesn't move. He doesn't blink…