The match lobby was loading in, the sky above the shipyard still frozen as the countdown held the world in place. The comms were already buzzing with voices, the usual mix of nerves and excitement. Two players were talking loudly over the channel, their mics crackling as they joked around.
"Bro, I swear we got zero chance if Bot 067 is on the other side," one said, laughing as he checked his loadout again just to feel useful.
The other player snorted. "Man, forget zero, we will go negative. Who even names themselves Bot 067 anyway. Sounds like some default bot from the tutorial."
"Yeah, but that default bot dropped like thirty kills on his own last match," the first replied. "I still cannot believe he climbed from Rookie IV to Rookie I in one week. One week. Who does that."
A third voice joined, calm but amused. "Someone who never loses. That is who. Man, even when the game gives him trash teammates, he still carries. I got lucky being on his team yesterday. Had to do nothing. My rank jumped like a rocket."
"Hold up, hold up," another player chimed in, probably joining with half a burger still in his mouth. "The crazy part is that he never talks. Not one word. You ping something, he ignores it. You plan something, he rushes solo. And somehow, he wipes the whole enemy squad before we even reach the fight."
"Not once has he died," the second player added. "Not once in all the matches I found him in. Tell me that is normal. Tell me that is not some mystery freak."
Someone else chuckled. "You know what else is weird. The guy never changes his loadout. Ever. Always that same sniper rifle. No skins, no charms, no fancy colors. Just that plain sniper and a cool skin that I have never seen appearing in the game. Looks like he is a reincarnate of legendary player.
"Facts," the burger guy said. "And we cannot even check his info. The dude's profile is locked tighter than a government file. No weapons list, no stats, no skin info, nothing. The only thing we can see is his rank. Rookie One. That is it."
"Imagine if he hits Veteran or Elite," someone muttered. "We might as well uninstall."
A laugh rolled through the comms.
"Bro, I am telling you now, if he is on the enemy team, I am camping the whole match. I am not giving him another clip for his highlights."
"You mean you will hide," someone corrected.
"Same thing man. Survival is survival."
The lobby timer finally ticked down, three seconds left. The voices calmed a little, the way players always settled before the drop. Yet the topic stayed the same, like everyone was waiting for one thing.
"Alright boys, place your bets," a player said. "Is bot 067 with us or against us today."
No one answered yet. They were waiting for the roster to load, waiting to see that strange name again, waiting to see which side luck favored.
The lobby clicked, the roster finally loaded in, and all voices on the comms paused for a breath.
There it was.
Bot 067.
A wave of groans, laughs and panic hit the channel at the same time.
"Bruh, he is on the enemy team. We are so cooked."
"Yeah, good game boys, pack it up."
"I am hiding inside a crate. Do not call me. I am done."
"Man, why is he always against us when we want to win."
Someone sighed loudly. "Alright, new goal. Forget winning. Just try not to be the first one he kills."
The countdown hit zero and the match began.
Reever materialized on his team's spawn point, the shipyard stretching out in front of him with stacked containers, cranes, fog rising from the cold metal floors and the first hardpoint marked on the far side of the map. His teammates were already talking.
"Alright, hit the point, spread left, watch the flank."
"Someone take rooftop."
"Anyone got sniper support."
Reever ignored every word.
He summoned his sniper rifle, checked the chamber, lifted it with calm hands and walked forward without saying anything. To him, this was not a match. This was simple cleanup. He had fought Zombots, tracked hidden enemies through forests, and died countless times in a world where death hurt. Compared to that, these players were nothing more than moving targets.
Before his teammates even stepped out of spawn, Reever had already vanished between the containers, slipping through shadows like fading smoke. His Phase Mirage armor softened his outline, making him barely more than a whisper moving along metal walls.
The enemy team rushed the first hardpoint, yelling on their own comms.
"Push right."
"Cover the stairs."
"I got mid."
Reever crouched behind a large blue container, raised his rifle, and pulled the trigger.
One shot. Head. Instant drop.
He did not wait for the body to fall. He was already gone, repositioning, the wind off the open harbor brushing against his armor. Another enemy turned toward the noise.
Second shot. Neck. Down.
"Yo, what was that," one of the enemy players shouted. "Who sniped me."
"Bot 067 man, he is already here."
"What do you mean already. The match just started."
"He killed three people in two seconds."
"Bro I am uninstalling tonight."
Reever did not even listen. His focus was sharp and clean, the kind of calm he never had in the forest. This felt easy, almost too easy. He vaulted over a crate, slid across a metal walkway and took position above the hardpoint.
On the comms, his allies noticed.
"Uh… guys… Bot 067 is already at the point."
"How. The point is on the other side of the map."
"He is Bot 067, that is how."
Reever aimed down at the cluster of enemies inside the objective, all five of them trying to defend the capture zone. He fired without hesitation.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Three enemies dropped before they could even rotate their cameras. The last two tried to run.
Fourth shot. Fifth shot.
Hardpoint cleared.
His teammates finally arrived, panting like they had run a marathon.
"Alright, capture it, capture it."
"Thanks Bot 067, whoever you are."
"Man, he does not even hear you. He is already gone."
True. Reever was already sprinting to the next predicted respawn route. He knew exactly where the enemy would appear. He moved through the narrow gap between two containers, turned the corner and waited.
The enemy team spawned.
He fired.
One shot for each. Clean. Calm. Perfect.
They died before they understood what happened.
"Who is this guy man. How does he know where we spawn."
"Report him. I know he is not hacking but report him anyway."
"That is not normal aim. That is not human aim."
"Stop complaining and move, we gotta break this hardpoint."
They rushed again, desperate, angry, determined to push through. Reever was perched above the shipping crates now, his figure half invisible behind a crane hook. He watched them try to reach the hardpoint. He did not let them.
Every step they took was answered with a bullet.
He did not miss.
The kill feed was glowing with his name.
Bot 067. Bot 067. Bot 067.
After the fourth hardpoint, the enemy team stopped calling strategies. They only shouted warnings.
"He is behind us."
"No, he is in front."
"No, he is above."
"He is everywhere. How is he everywhere."
Reever did not bother sliding or jumping or looking flashy. He moved like a ghost, straight and silent, killing with perfect precision. His armor shimmered faintly as he slipped past his own teammates, already on his way to the next objective before the announcer even marked it.
"Hardpoint moving."
Reever was already there.
By the time his allies arrived, guns ready, the place was clean and quiet.
"Bro, he wiped the whole squad again."
"We are not even playing at this point. We are background characters in his match."
"Stay humble man, just take the free win."
The enemy team kept trying. They pushed, flanked, rushed together. Nothing worked. Reever ended every attempt the same way. A single, clean shot.
Toward the end of the match, one of the enemies sighed loudly into the global comms.
"Bot 067, bro, can you relax for one second. One second only."
Reever said nothing. He shot the man mid sentence.
The kill feed blinked again.
Bot 067.
Game over.
Victory.
His teammates cheered, laughing like they had just watched a comedy.
"Man, this guy is unreal."
"Bot 067, if you can hear me, I owe you a soda."
"He cannot hear you. He is probably already in another match."
"Bro, imagine his rank in a month. No one will beat him."
Reever did not stay for the end screen. He backed out, silent, calm and unreadable as always. For the players, it had been one intense match. For him, it was barely a warm up.
The next match awaited. He had no time to waste. He needed to climb ranks fast and get out of this timeline.
His path forward was clear.
And he moved again, like a ghost who forgot how to rest.