User blog:Hutchettmann/NNNZzz

She stood mightily in the dropzone, a hunk of green metal in a field of reddish sand, "02" emblazoned on her massive hull. Her nashorns pointed to the sky that seemed to challenge the gods themselves. Hungry as she was, she immediately fired her noricums the moment her systems came online.

Nearby, a beacon's white flash pierced through the sky. She paid it no heed. For Natasha believes only she could penetrate the heavens. She and her guns. Beacons aren't important. Only sheer awesomeness can win fights.

Natasha snorted derisively at the blues around her -- a bunch of fools letting themselves be controlled by beams of light. Like moths to a flame. She may be a blue but she isn't one of them. She refused to be a moth and she will never be for she is an all-consuming flame.

She fired at a red Griffin going for a beacon. She failed to score a hit but she followed through with a shower of missiles. The Griffin continued to cap the beacon but Natasha can only see a red moth squirming in her rain of fire. The red then moved away, going for another. Run, coward! Natasha screamed and fired another shot that did not even graze the red. She decided to look for another target. She is far reaching after all.

Natasha surveyed the battlefield. They are down by one capture. She spat in disgust seeing reds and blues fighting over abridge beacon. A fire support would have been welcome but she want no part of that. She will attack whoever she wants, whenever she wants for her reach knows no bounds.

The beacon score is now 4-1, with the blues desperate to control the central beacon. Gravely outpositioned by the reds, the blues sustained heavy losses. Still, Natasha stood proudly, picking out a target and raining missiles but doing no significant damage. In her mind, she is a storm incarnate, hurling a lightning here, throwing pellets of sleet there, yet no covering fire for the blues. They don't deserve the all-seeing's grace.

The smoke cleared and the blues meched out save for Natasha who stood resiliently in all her glory, the nearest beacon getting capped as she chose targets, like choosing which pastry to pick.

It was a clear victory for the reds, but Natasha reveled inside. She was untouchable. Only the blue moths died. Her blue fire still burned brightly, even brighter than the beacons. At the end of the day, she is still all seeing, far reaching.

Yet in spite of her reaching far and seeing everything, she did nothing.

NOTE:''  I'm not hating on snipers/campers. I just hate getting teamed up with those who plays like they are playing deathmatch.''