Stationed up in a lofty wooden tower, the sun beat down mercilessly. Though we still had the roof of the tower to shield us, the air was thin and almost too dry to breathe.

On the RED team, Sniper was always defending. He seldom came down from his well-placed tower because he could practically see the entire region from it, and the scope on his gun allowed him to zoom in even farther. It was safe enough until the BLUs saw us, which probably wouldn't take long considering I was using the Machina.

We waited, eyes to scopes, as the Administrator's voice counted down on the speakers. I had my light set directly on the forehead of the enemy Heavy, which would be easy to keep considering he moved slowly. I smirked to myself.

As if my father could sense it, he quietly growled to me, "Don't get cocky, now. Scout gets all cocky n' then he dies. Probably most often of the team."

I 'pfft'd. "He's one player I don't have to worry about, dad."

As the gates opened, I got my perfect shot on the Heavy. Only the enemy Medic seemed worried, since he popped his Über right after I hit the fatass.

"Good shot, but now we gotta get ready to move," Sniper said casually, reloading his gun.

"Who's watching for Spies?" I asked, taking aim on the BLU Medic, as well. A shot in his shoulder, but it must've pierced his heart, because he went down and was sent to Respawn.

Sniper looked at his watch. "One should be showin' up right about…. now…"

"How do you always know?!" The BLU Spy exclaimed, stomping his foot in frustration.

I whipped around, horrified. My dad merely turned me back to the game and engaged in conversation with the Spy.

"Iz this your daughter?" The French Fry asked.

"Yeh. Betta watch out, she don't know you're friendly."

"Only to you," The Spy replied quickly. "I will graciously accept a headshot from your daughter any day. You did a lot for me. It iz only fair."

Sniper waved his statement away. "Was nothin.' Do Pill a favor, though. Go stab our Scout a couple'a toimes, will ya?"

"But of course," the Spy replied, cloaking quickly and rushing down the ladder of our tower.

"Does he ever kill you?" I asked my dad, missing my shot on the Blu Scout.

"'Course," Sniper replied. "I let 'im kill me a few tomes 'cus 'e was gonna get kicked off for not makin' as many kills 'cus 'e was talkin' to me. 'E doesn't visit very often now, mainly just stabs, but we enjoy talkin'. I used to tell 'im all tha' tome about ye and yer mum."

"How do you trust him?" I asked, reloading.

"I don't. 'E jus' listens though. An' when 'e got somethin' t'say, it's not loike I'm gonna go blabbering t'the crew to tell 'em I've been conversing wit'tha enemy Spoi, now am I? Same for 'im."

"Ah." I understood. Sniper had kept him his job, and in return he doesn't backstab the Sniper too often to be fishy.

"'E always apologizes," Sniper said quietly.

I nodded. Sometimes I felt like I was as quiet as my father.

Through my scope, I saw the RED Scout running around, waving to me. "'How's the view, Princess?" He shouted. I lowered my gun, glaring at the small red flash in frustration.

"Asshole… Now we really gotta move, dad," I warned, tugging at his shirt. "Scout's givin' us away."

"I'm stayin' 'ere," My dad said. "You're a big girl, you can 'old your own, roight?"

I nodded, slinging my gun into its bag and quickly making my way down the ladder, looking out and listening for the sounds of the BLU team pushing the bomb.

Quickly, I slinked across the wasteland towards the other wooden buildings for another lookout point. None of them were going to be as good as the one Sniper was at, but I found a substitute easily. I climbed the many stairs and plopped myself down on a wooden crate, taking my baseball cap off and fanning myself with the bill. The room was small and cramped, barely able to fit me, but it was easy to hide in so other soldiers wouldn't suspect I was hunkered down here. Furthermore, there wasn't an open window — just a few boards nailed up together with a slight parting for a place to see from.

Perrrfffeeecccttt.

I placed the barrel of my gun between the slit in the boards and took aim. Machina, considering the trail of red smoke it left in the direction of its shooter, was an awful gun to use for this… But I mean… it was fine, right?

"What'cha doin' up he'ya, sweet cheeks?"

I drew my kukri out from its sheath and spun around, recognizing the Bostonian voice immediately. "How did you find me?!" I demanded.

"I followed ya."

"Get out of my sight!" I hollered, aiming my dagger towards him. "Despite the 'no friendly-fire' rule imposed on this team, I will not hesitate to plunge this thing right down your God-forsaken throat if you mutter another pet name for me in my presence, got it?!"

"Jeez," he held up his hands in defense as I touched the tip of the blade to his chin, "alright, alright, I'm out, daisies!" He took off.

I stepped a few steps froward and swung my blade at him. "ARGGG!" I shouted in frustration, "Don't talk to me ever again, you PANSY!" I shouted.

"ALLLLRRRIIGHT SISTER, GET OUT HERE, SCUM!" Soldier bellowed, as I imagined he saw Scout running out to greet him.

The entire rest of the match, Scout kept getting in the way of my shooting, killing my targets before I got to it. It became a race, and I knew that if I wanted to make a decent score next time, I'd have to be faster than him and make him the second fastest member of the team.

"Ay, ya didn't do too bad!" My dad exclaimed heartily, clapping me on the shoulder. I, in disgust, gaped at my score. It of course was at the bottom, but I knew it couldn't have been that low.

"I could've shot the Scout and gotten another point," I mumbled under my breath. My father lightly slapped me on the back of my head.

"Watch yerself, sheila. Y'dont wanna go 'round makin' enemies, now."

"Yeah, yeah," I retorted bitterly.

The rest of the day followed with me practicing my shooting in the range and working out with Heavy — a soon-to-be usual for me. In spite of my low score, I was the only member who didn't get sent to Respawn that day. I considered that a blessing, but also envied the knowledge of what Respawn was like.

I sat at the dining table, cleaning the Machina, when Scout sauntered into the dining room. I let out a subtle growl as he swaggered behind me, feeling his eyes on my work.

"Ya missed a spot," he said right by my ear.

I let the gun pieces fall to the table. "Get out," I warned, tracing my finger over the pieces.

"No, really, right der—"

"Scout, I'm warning you, I can stand my own—"

"Just look it's not shiny!"

"SHUT UP!" I shouted, looking up at him. I had the bellowing voice of Medic with the looks of a gerbil. Scout merely laughed at me, patting my head.

"OH, hey, you're funny, actin' all angry, it's really cute!" He said, very giddy, gloating… as if he were trying to push my buttons.

Then I pushed him. I moved both hands to his chest and shoved him backwards, hard, right into the Spy behind him.

"Watch where you're going!" The Spy sneered, dodging the Scout as much as he could.

"Woah, woah, woah der, Pilly, what's the big idea?!"

"Scout!" The Spy sighed, turning to face him. "Are you really that stupid? Leave her alone! She doesn't want to be teased all the time!"

"Oh," Scout said, his face falling as he looked back at me, "Ya could'a jus' said somethin'…"

Spy waved him away. "Go away. She obviously doesn't want to look at your repulsive face."

I sneered at Scout as he turned away, still swaggering. Nothing phased him. It made me sick to my stomach, but I held it in, counting to ten before returning to cleaning. Needless to say, I finished quickly, thanked Spy for his help, re-assembled my gun, and left quickly, running out to my father's RV.

Sniper apparently often resided in his lodge, sipping coffee be himself and smoking, usually reading anything he could get his hands on. For being an outdoorsy guy, he sure loved to read.

"Dad!" I shouted, stomping into the van with tears in my eyes. "Please just let me kill the Scout once! Just once, dad! I swear I'll be content!" I flounced towards him, flinging my arms around his shoulders and heaving as I sobbed.

"Aye… Evie, wot's wrong now? Wot's 'e done?"

"He started harassing me while I was cleaning your gun, Dad, and today on the battlefield he busted in on my sniping and kept getting in the way and keeps calling me these stupid pet names and I've told him to stop and he doesn't! I don't know what to do!" I shouted through the tears. "I've tried being nice!"

"I know, I know," Sniper acknowledged, patting down my hair. ""ere's wot'cha gotta do…"