The sun cast long shadows across the virtual Farmhouse Standoff map as Don maintained his position, peering through the jagged hole in the barn's roof. His breath was steady and he kept his rifle trained on the weathered farmhouse, scanning around for any sign of movement.
The old wooden beams creaked beneath him as he adjusted his position in the hay pile.
Inside the master bedroom of the farmhouse, Dominic stood motionless, his avatar's flashy mask concealing the frustration etched across his face. The room's peeling wallpaper and scattered furniture seemed to mock his current predicament.
"Well butter my biscuit and call me Sally," Dominic muttered, his thick accent carrying a tone of wounded pride. "This city slicker's done got the drop on me twice now."
**Tap tap tap** His virtual fingers drummed against the stock of his basic rifle as he contemplated his next move.
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