Hi guys! You might be noticing chapters are taking longer and longer each time. School's been merciless with me, and to add salt to the wound, I got my first ever case of writer's block. Since chapter 3, writing has been a teeny weeny more tedious, but I am not losing hope. I'm just building a bridge to get to the good stuff. I'm committed to this story and though I can't promise frequent or consistent updates all the time, the story WILL get done.

I'll change the title of the story next update, too. I feel Part-Cursed, Part-Blessed, All-Sniper is WAYYY too long for a title. I basically tried too hard to come up with something because I was so eager to start that I didn't think it through enough. It sounds more like a movie subtitle, so it's now (drumroll please): Aim for the Heart!

Also, thanks to Sakura Flores for leaving the first review. Thank God I'm doing okay for my first time. Anyways, let's start chapter 4, shall we? Trevor, TAKE THE WHEEL!

Trevor's P.O.V.

I really hope what Frank's saying is true. All I need is for them to give me a chance.

After a MOAB came, the monkeys popped it easily, and a wizard monkey put up a wall of fire to take care of the cleanup. Striker Jones gave the order to head back and congratulated everyone. I slid down the tree and made my way back to Monkeyopolis Army Headquarters, heading directly to room 2A. Then, when I walked in the room, Jones came in soon after, carrying my gun.

"Here's your gun, Trevor," he said as he extended it towards me. I eagerly took it and put it on my back again. "As I said, you're just going to watch. Whenever we're called to battle, you will give it to me. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir!" I said after a pause. Jones then walked out of the room. Feeling defeated, I went to the private firing range next to our room to practice my shots. What else was left to do? As I kept shooting single shots, calculations were circling in my head, the sound of reloading being music to my ears.

The other guys in the squad came inside the room, but as Frank put away his dartling gun, he saw me practice and entered the firing range. By that time, I already switched to burst fire, shooting quick storms of bullets at every target. Then, changing to full-auto, I aimed the sight on the target in front of me and shot until a hole opened up in the drawing of a red bloon, its outline glowing from the heat of hot bullets.

"Holy fucking shit!" Frank said surprised but laughing. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were planning a shooting, or that you're part of a terrorist group."

"Impossible…Our job in the army is…to protect people from bloons…and their invasions," I replied, taking it too literally. Damn my autism!

"I was just joking, dude," said Frank as he chuckled and beckoned for me to come over to the bench in the corner of the range. "Come sit down."

I thought for a bit, reloaded the gun, and slung it behind me as I followed him. After all, I practiced a good bit and he seemed like a nice guy. We talked for a bit, albeit rather slowly because of my pauses and low eye contact.

"Say, you have a place to live, right?" he asked out of the blue.

"That's…a rather weird question. Yeah, I do. I…live with Captain Churchill," I said.

"Wait, so you don't have a place of your own?"

"I am trying to find one. In fact…Captain Churchill has been helping me with it."

"I got an idea! There's this house in a calm neighborhood with gorgeous scenery around it that has everything you need for an affordable price. What do you say I showed it to you?"

That kinda threw me off a bit. First he asks me if I have a place to live, then offers one to me? Why is this guy being so nice to me? Is he even aware that I'm autistic? He's talking to me like I'm a normal person. There was a long pause as I thought, and to be honest, I wasn't even sure. I'm already okay living with Churchill, but there was something inside me that pushed me to say:

"I…guess that sounds…good."

"Great! If everything goes well and you like it, that means we'll be neighbors as well!"

"Wait, what?"

"Perfect! Just call me when you're ready," he said as he left to the main room. We're gonna be neighbors?

…

A few hours later, I went over to Churchill's office. As I told him everything, he looked surprised, but also excited.

"…And, he says we're gonna be neighbors," I told him at the end. "This feels weird."

As Churchill smiled, he got up and walked over to me. "That's because you're just not used to such friendliness from someone at your level," he said. "Of course, Frank isn't autistic, but what I'm trying to say is you've been victim to the evil people can have in their hearts. You're not used to this, which is why you're feeling like this, but this is a good sign! Trust me."

Hearing that from Churchill reassured me, and as he tried to put his hand on my shoulder, I backed away slightly. He almost forgot about that, but immediately smiled and did the shoulder hug, with me returning it as I smiled, too.

"What about in battle? Were you able to finally snipe?" he asked excitedly. I unfortunately had to give him the bad news.

"…No, I didn't," I said sadly. "Striker Jones…demanded to take my rifle…and said that I will just…watch them and not do anything else."

His face changed from excitement to disappointment, as he sighed and muttered quietly to himself, "I told him, but he just won't listen!" After another strong sigh, he said, "Don't worry, Trevor, I'm sure the time will come. We just gotta be patient."

That's the second time I hear that. Can't I have some permission or results already!? Damn it! Anyway, I said goodbye and went out of the office, and looking at my watch, it was 7:30 P.M. Usually we would be home by 5 o' clock, but today's bloon invasion made us go later, although it was short with just one MOAB.

As I exited the headquarters, I called Frank and he gave me an address to go to. Getting on my bike, I rode off to Churchill's house to grab all of my stuff and put it inside a backpack, splitting my gun in two so it could fit inside the two side pockets. I then went to Frank's address, where he was waiting for me in the front door of my possible new home. He was already changed, wearing a black shirt with a pixelated gold skull and black jeans, with black sneakers.

"Alright. Come inside," he said as he motioned for me to open the door. I didn't change into my normal clothes, but he didn't seem to notice. When I entered, I carefully examined as many details as I could, and wherever I went, Frank followed me and watched. The first thing the door led to was a hallway with a decorative glass table on the left-hand side and a bronze monkey decoration sitting on top of it. At the end was an opening to a two-way hallway and a dining room right in front. It had a long wooden table surrounded by 12 chairs on top of a rug with a crimson-red design. At the left of the table were square walls with a door that led to a small kitchen, complete with a fridge, sink, dishwasher, kitchen equipment, and even a popcorn maker. At the opposite side of those pieces was a stove and oven, with an opening in the wall above it showing the dining room presumably to serve the food like a restaurant. Everything had a pretty standard design. Smelling the stove closely, it was loaded with gas, ready to be used.

Going back to the two-way hallway I went right and found three doors, two at the left and right and one at the front end. The right door led to what looked like a bedroom. It had a king-sized bed with an intricate green-colored design and a dresser in front of it with a flat-screen TV above. On each side of the bed were bedside cabinets with lamps on them, and on the left-hand side of the room was a desk and chair with some drawers and a computer.

The other two doors led to a bathroom and a laundry area, with a tiled teal and black-and-white décor, respectively. The bathroom was complete with a toilet, bathtub-shower, and sink with a mirror that also worked as a cabinet. The laundry room had a washing machine and clothes dryer. When I headed to the other end of the hallway it made a right turn and the door led me to the backyard. It was surrounded by a white picket fence and had two wooden benches, with a small banana farm, too. The whole thing was decorated with flowers, predominantly daisies and red roses. I then went back to the dining room to give my final decision to Frank.

"It's good," I said.

"Really? Amazing!" Frank said. "I live right next door, so if you need anything just knock. Hope you enjoy your new home." Just like that, he walked out while whistling, and once he closed the door, I started doing my stuff.

First thing's first, I needed to shower. Taking off my military clothes and neatly organizing them in my dresser, I took a hot shower. Anyone that went in would have claimed it was a sauna, but I liked my showers extra hot. After getting out, I changed into a red t-shirt with a yellow art of two machine guns forming a cross, blue jeans, and brown casual shoes.

Next, I needed to unpack my stuff. I put everything where it belonged: clothes in dresser, toothbrush and toothpaste in bathroom, etc. I took my gun and connected it together to lay it on the wall beside the dresser, the muzzle pointing to the ground.

Finally, I got to my hobbies. There were some other guns that I purchased in my free time, like a pair Desert Eagle Mark XIX's. Taking my tools, I sat down on my desk and began tinkering with them, looking at how they worked inside and making modifications to test them later with target practice. I always loved science and engineering, so what better way to apply them than here? My extensive knowledge of it is what allowed me to modify my rifle to split it in two parts easily without breaking it, allowing me to carry it more easily. Being a gunsmith seemed like a cool idea, but my heart is in sniping and defending, plus I had to keep my promise to Mason.

I modified the rounds to make them more flammable while swapping the magazines for bigger ones. Then I gave the guns a double barrel to quadruple firing rate, muzzle brakes to reduce recoil, and a custom grip tape made from spare parts around the house. I finally finished with a gold paint coat all around one of the guns while keeping the other's silver design. Both guns had black grip tapes and some tiny red splatters. When I tested them out, total firing rate was similar to a light machine gun and the target caught fire within 4 seconds, but the recoil needed some work, so I would work on it as soon as I could.

I then made myself something simple for dinner: grilled cheese with a side of banana slices. This is what I ate most of the time. I finished the day playing a first-person shooter game on my TV, lying down in bed as I carelessly sniped everyone in sight. At 11:00 P.M., I brushed my teeth, changed to my sleepwear, and went to bed. My dreams took over quickly. I could see myself on top of a tree, firing at a couple MOABs while everyone else threw laser blasts and bombs, celebrating once the fight was over. Or maybe what everything could have been if Mason was still alive. Would we be sniping side by side? That would have been amazing.

Hopefully everything turns out well in the future.

…

A couple weeks later

Still nothing. For a few weeks I have been doing exactly what Striker Jones did. I'm just watching everyone. Before every defense, I had to give Jones my rifle and he would give it back to me afterwards. Captain Churchill even talked to him once, to no avail. I don't understand; he knows my skill, and anyone who's seen me shoot even once can tell I have proficiency. I'm not even bragging, at least not intentionally. What if the problem isn't me? Is something else holding him back?

Near the end of work, I was having lunchtime sitting with the team, but for the vast majority of the time they just talked to each other. Not that I minded, though, so I just ate my food. At one point, Frank said something that caught my attention.

"Hey guys, you wanna crash at my place?" he asked.

"Oh, we'd love to, but Wendy and I already have plans for a movie," said Summer. "No hard feelings, though, right?"

"No, no, of course not. You guys have fun."

"Thanks! Well, I gotta go. Come on, Wendy. We gotta get ready soon. The previews will start any minute!" said Summer as she and Wendy got up and ran to our room.

"Wait, it was now?" said Frank, astonished. "Jesus! Anyway, how about you, Trevor? Whaddaya think about coming over?"

"…Excuse me?" I said as I looked up. First he gives me a nice house, and now he's inviting me over to his? It sounded a little awkward, but less than last time. I guess Churchill was right, it is a good thing.

"Yeah. I showed you around your new house. It's only fair I get to show you mine."

"Well…by that logic…I guess you're right. When is it gonna be, then?"

"How about tonight at 7 o' clock? A little bit after we go home. I gotta get some things ready."

I thought for a minute. I mean, it would be rude to turn him down. He's been nice, so I have to say thank you in some way, right?

"…Ok, alright," I finally said.

…

At 7 o' clock, I knocked on Frank's door. He opened, wearing his same attire as last time.

"Perfect timing, literally!" he said. "I told you 7 o' clock and right as it hit, you knocked. Come inside."

I read the doormat while I cleaned my shoes, and it said "Welcome!" I followed Frank and he showed me around.

"It's kinda similar to yours," he said. "Here's the dining room, directly connected to the kitchen. Then we go outside, and here's the backyard. Complete with barbecue grill and everything! And finally, here's my room."

I studied the room. It was far more decorated than mine, with posters of super monkeys and military comic-like pictures everywhere. Beside his bed he had a small library of books, and he had a desk and computer on its other side.

"That's a lot of posters," I said.

"Yeah, I'm a pretty big comic book fan," he replied. "I may not look like it, but some of my pastimes are a bit nerdy, I guess. Hey, how do you feel about staying for dinner? I know how to make some things."

"B-but…what if I don't like the food?" I nervously said. Of course, I just had to spit that out. Just fucking great.

"Yes you will like it," said Frank in a frustrated-but-amused tone. "Come on. I'll show you what's in the fridge, and you can choose what we eat."

Frank led me to the fridge in the kitchen and opened the fridge, showing me its contents. I noticed all kinds of things, including carrots, tomatoes, beef, chicken, many different sauces, and even nacho cheese or potato chip bags. The whole top was covered in bananas. Of course, bananas are my favorite, but a little variety wouldn't hurt, so my eyes locked onto the beef and I pointed my finger at it.

"Aw yeah, good choice," said Frank. "Anything else?"

I kept looking and found some cheese. "Maybe some cheese…and rice."

"Wait, you're giving me an idea with this. You like spaghetti sauce, too?"

I nodded vigorously.

"Alright, all good choices! I'm gonna cook up something amazing with this!" Frank eagerly said as he grabbed everything I mentioned and some more. Once he set it all down on the counter, he rubbed his palms and started cooking. Sometimes, I pointed out things he could improve. For example, when he was cutting the beef, I told him to cut them a little more or less if the slices were too big or small. Or when he was using the stove, I told him to lower or raise the heat accordingly. At the end, he excitedly told me to sit down at the table, and after a few more minutes, he came with a plate closed with a food cover, the kind you would see in restaurants.

"Okay, it's all done," he said, and as he lifted the cover and slid the plate to me, he said, "Ta-da! Steak Parmesan! An Italian classic. With a side of white rice and mac n' cheese."

While I looked at the plate and smelled it, Frank sat down next to me with a plate of his own. It smelled good. Taking the knife and fork, I cut a piece and put it in my mouth. It actually tasted wonderful! I chuckled like a kid as I smiled while I kept chewing, and ate another piece as soon as I swallowed. Frank's eyes widened as he decided to take a bite to see if it was that good, and by the look on his face, he was not disappointed. This continued for a while, until I noticed it was pretty silent, so I decided to speak up.

"Was I…annoying?" I needed to say. Frank looked at me with a confused look, as if the question threw him off. "Was I annoying when you were making it? It's that I sometimes annoy people."

Frank just chuckled and said, "Nah, don't worry about it. You weren't annoying. I mean, I don't mean to brag, but I'm pretty sure patience is one of my strengths. It's weird. You'd think that a dartling gunner would be an impulsive person, but not me."

After another pause, I asked, "Why are you being so nice to me?" Again, Frank looked at me with a weird look. "You welcomed me when I entered the team…gave me a house…invited me over, and even made us food. You know I'm autistic. Why…are you being so nice even still?"

"…When I entered the military, I entered because bloons are one of, if not the biggest problem Monkeyopolis has," Frank said as he momentarily stopped eating and smiled. "I wanted to protect people, help them. It's hard to put it into words, but there's this great feeling of satisfaction…or accomplishment…or whatever you wanna call it, that I get when I help others." He turned his face to mine. "Just like your heart is in sniping, my heart is in the dartling gun. However, if I had to choose anything other than that, I would most certainly enjoy being a medic."

There was a pause, and we both got back to eating slowly and silently. I thought about what he said to me. It is hard to explain. Then again, that feeling must be amazing if he chooses to help instead of hurt. The few people I met in my early life just chose to hurt. Do they feel something similar? If they do, I can't think of anything more evil.

We finished eating after a while, and Frank decided to break the ice.

"Hey, sorry if it's too much, but do you think you can stay a little longer?" he asked. "It'll just be for maybe half an hour or so."

"…I…guess," I sheepishly replied. What did he have planned this time? Though I'll admit, the dinner was delicious, so maybe I could stay a while longer.

"Great! Follow me," said Frank. He led me to his room, then turned on the TV. Apparently, he already had ready the same shooter game I usually play. He then picked up one of the controllers and extended it to me. "You know this game, right? Planet of the Apes: Simian Warfare? The one everyone is buying? How about we play for a bit?"

He was right in a sense. Everyone was buying it. I remember myself how the lines were long every day, so I had to go as early as the shop opened like it was Black Friday to buy it without feeling uncomfortable. I really wasn't in the mood to be among so many people. Anyway, the first time I played it, I had such a blast with it. It turned into my third favorite hobby just behind gunsmithing and target practice. Because of that, I eagerly took the offer, though I didn't say anything.

"Jeez, looks like someone's excited to blow some brains out," he told me. When he grabbed his controller, he lied down on his bed while I sat down in a chair beside the bed. Staying true to our roots, Frank chose heavy weapons and I chose recon-style weapons.

Then we began. Frank was a pretty expressive gamer, getting easily ecstatic and saying things like "Oh my Sun God, FUCKING RUN!" or "DIE-DIE-DIE-DIE-DIE!" It was actually kind of funny. What he promised to be half an hour eventually turned into much longer, but we were both having so much fun that we didn't mind. As we played, I gained more and more confidence in my communication. My tone of voice was still a bit monotone, but by the time we ended, I had a smile on my face and talked with Frank with practically no pauses. It felt normal.

I looked at my watch and it was 10:00 P.M., so I needed to tell Frank I had to go.

"Aw man. 10:00 P.M.? I really gotta go. I haven't even showered yet!" I told Frank.

"That's okay," he chuckled. "We got work tomorrow anyway. Go and get yourself not stinky."

I walked to the bedroom door, but before leaving, I turned to Frank and said, "That was fun, Frank. Thank you for everything."

"Anytime. Glad that we're friends now. Have a good night's sleep!"

With that, I left his house and entered mine. Again, I did my usual nighttime routine, but I didn't fix myself up anything since I already ate at Frank's house. When I put on my sleepwear, I walked over to my rifle, picked it up, looked at one of the photos, and smiled.

"Looks like you were right, Mason. I do need friends. I just need to find the right people."

I put it back on the wall with its muzzle touching the floor. Then I turned off all the lights and went to bed. That night I had some of the most peaceful sleep of my entire life. I'm still on a mission to snipe in actual battles, but luckily, this was a great distraction from the setbacks. Now I have more hope than ever.

Alright, alright, alriiight! That's the end of this chapter. WOO-WHEE! That was a long one! I'm really sorry it took much longer than the previous ones, but again, writer's block plus schoolwork equals virtually zero time to write effectively and/or willingly. It may not have been the best chapter, but hopefully at least some of you will like it.

I'm pretty sure this bridge will be done in 3 chapters MAX. I could've just skipped, but I wanted to include these bits for the sake of pacing. The thing is, once I'm done with this story, I'm not sure if I'll continue with fanfiction anytime soon. I don't wanna say I'll never do this again, but my creative batteries take a LOOOOONG time to recharge. I wanna put out as much as I can because it's highly unlikely I'll ever do a prequel/sequel, or anything in between. I just don't have the ideas for it.

But anyway, let's not get ahead of ourselves. Until next time, have yourselves a good one!