Intermission: The Unbreakable Aim
Keyboard clicks buzzed to life, followed by a sharp mouse click.
My eyes stayed glued to the screen, mind already simulating how those overlapping cuts would blend together when edited.
I clicked the Play button, then watched as each segment—seconds long, or stretching into dozens, even a full minute—wove itself into a flawless sequence.
I checked whether any one audio track stood out too loudly.
I scanned for those rare, perfectly timed memes that kept the pace from dragging.
I double-checked that I hadn’t over-amped any problematic moments.
Editing a given video was like cooking with ingredients: sometimes raw food still tasted great, but a skilled chef turns it into something even more satisfying for the table. The editor, in my case, delivered something crisper and more watchable for the viewer.
But there were always days that tested you more than others.
Today, the editor assigned to Harmony—Luddite—had defined his own role as the one bearing the heaviest load among the handful of years he’d worked as an editor.
“…What the hell did you even do in the Dark Zone?”
Every single hour, every minute, every second had been legendary.
In the editing world, a full broadcast meant rushing to catch live streams for viewers who had no time, so something this packed could easily be accused of overstepping. I’d still dived in anyway.
The group chat for Harmony’s editors—only three members total—already sat at three hundred-plus messages from nonstop chatter and sharing.
The tone told me the others were in the same boat.
- [Ruby: Even if I think about it, there’s no way to squeeze four ten-minute videos into this???]
- [Ruby: @Luddite]
- [Ruby: Luddite-nim, what’s the timeline looking like? Even if I shave it, one video’s still gonna run twenty minutes minimum]
- [Luddite: I’m handling the intro-to-climax section]
- [Luddite: If I trim everything I can, fifteen minutes. To make it look smooth, maybe twenty-two to twenty-five?]
- [Luddite: Even if we cut right before the party starts]
- [Waltz: Speaking of which, who the hell is this Eugene player?]
- [Waltz: I’m only doing partial editing up to the moment we enter the uncontrolled area and—hahaha, the guy’s mastered small-unit tactics]
- [Waltz: No name card? Where did you even play this game, you’re that buried in Dark Zone lol;;]
- [Ruby: Real talk, lmao]
Yeah, that much was obvious.
As editors for a streamer who billed herself as a full-game specialist, we all had to know her games inside out. Dark Zone was one of them.
Plainly put, it was the one game our crew obsessed over more than anything else.
So everyone’s reaction was the same. Whoever this Eugene player was, the one who’d teamed with the boss and finished a main mission… it made you wonder, out loud, what kind of person he actually was.
The praise, the speculation, the editor instincts to set down mouse and keyboard and demand answers right now. The only thing stopping us was the knowledge that she wouldn’t have a clue what we were talking about, and the moral weight of crossing that line.
- [Luddite: Anyway, since everyone sent her cafe coffee gift cards, let’s power through with caffeine tonight]
- [Luddite: Nobody’s getting out of here until we wrap]
- [Waltz: Haha, must’ve edited yourself insane]
- [Ruby: I’m the one who gets to do the most brutal section and you’re laughing lol]
- [Luddite: Still, you guys have way more time than me. I have to finish and send everything today]
- [Ruby: Haha, fair enough]
The workload and difficulty level was pretty even across the board. The one who’d been assigned the ticking clock—Luddite—felt the pressure the most right now.
Still, swapping ideas with the others felt like it was nudging efficiency higher.
I kept one monitor open to the chat while diving back into the edit. On the desk beside me sat three caffeine drinks Harmony had gifted me, half already gone.
The hour hand and minute hand danced closer, then farther, as the night deepened.
Their day had only just begun.
There’s a phrase: Trigger Happy.
It describes the kind of people who feel real satisfaction from pulling the trigger—literally firing a gun.
If you look back at my four years in the past, they were rare but there, without a doubt.
More accurately, they were there.
Plenty of people felt satisfaction shooting at targets on a range, but someone who felt satisfaction putting bullets into other people… those were either crazy or mercenaries, and both groups tended to die young.
My old team? We’d long since left Trigger Happy in the dust.
Even if we only count the people we killed—tens of thousands.
Still, no matter how you looked at it, spending years in a place where life was cheaper than a bullet had to change even the most stubborn soul.
My way of finding calm and enjoying life had flipped completely.
───!!
Moving targets, static targets, hidden targets you weren’t allowed to shoot—suppress them all as fast as possible, moving tactically between them.
The only thing you could count on in that split second was your own judgment, your reflexes, your eye tracking, and the muscle memory burned into your body. Combat happened fast—fast, fast, fast.
You pulled the trigger the moment you entered a room, ready to end every fight before it even started. When the magazine ran dry, reload. Jammed? Swap the sidearm.
Countless other methods and styles all wrapped into one: Practical Shooting.
Pain, you said. You’ll never leave me, so I’ve finally learned to respect you—those were the words from a poem by Francis Ponge.
I decided, at last, that this wasn’t pain at all, but something that had to be fused into life itself.
Even though war and gunfire had completely left my life behind, through the process of that fusion I found the peace I’d been missing.
…Maybe I looked insane to outsiders.
But I didn’t know that back then.
I was already too far down the road to be moved by anyone saying those things.
Anyway, the game had only been out two days in real time. Because in-game and real-world clocks ran at different speeds, I had to account for that.
So, a quick take on the game itself… honestly, there wasn’t much to say. The only real takeaway from wandering around was that the player base was huge.
Central Park HQ was the place I’d walked the most, and soaking in every corner had felt painfully nostalgic.
Thankfully, though, there was a safeguard against over-immersion.
“…All the avatars, though…”
The total-color body parts—silver-haired eyes, silver-and-blue eyes, white hair, the whole package. They all gave off that same “I’ve seen these people before” vibe.
Then there were the tactical leggings worn over every kind of skirt or pants you could imagine. The sight made my head spin. On top of that, why were they almost all female characters?
If someone from our world had just appeared here, I bet the sight would have left them speechless.
But my gaze kept drifting.
“You over there—come out.”
…That broadcaster I’d been wandering around with yesterday had to be pretty famous.
Yesterday had been the same. When I’d gone in to register as an operator, a few sleek, refined-looking people had spotted me, called me over, and said they’d been watching my stream. They’d even suggested we push through a main mission together.
No matter how you looked at it, there was a delicate little smile peeking from behind a wall—some kind of slender beauty who couldn’t even fire a single bullet. The contrast between that appearance and the casual energy she gave off made my stomach drop.
“Ah, sorry! I was watching your stream!”
“…Thank you.”
“If you’re ever on stream again, I’ll definitely come watch!”
And then she vanished in a blur.
I’d been caught off-guard at first, but compared to the people I’d already met in-game, she was actually pretty solid.
Over the last couple of days I’d noticed something else: I kept hearing people ask if I was streaming. Whether it was because the game was popular or for some other reason, I didn’t know… but after clearing the Killhouse, my body felt looser.
I was about to head out and maybe check out the next mission when—
- [Killhouse Training Ground - Alpha Sector Clear.]
- [Time Taken = 1:03:41. // Time Attack Ranking updated.]
- [Current Username: Eugene — ranked 3rd overall.]
“…Third place, huh.”
I’d gone in easy, but there were still two people ahead of me.
That window that popped up made the idea of trying anything else fade like melting snow.
Today, I’d beaten every time-attack record.
──────────
[General] Real-time) Time Attack All’s are howling lol
The ranks you wanted!!!!
The time-attacks you set!!!!!
NEVER!!!!!
You can’t hold onto them, gays lol lol lol lol lol lol lol lol lol
[All Comments] [Newest First]
-What the actual fuck?????
[Author] What the hell is this? It’s like the Attack Clan is going extinct lol lol lol
-Those losers who always chase records and act tough at the range, lol
-Yeah, anyone looking can tell this is either edited or hacked~ the way people are drooling and chewing the screen, you can tell this is a real gallery lol This is exactly why “concept post” memes keep getting posted
[Today’s fresh meat is more obsessed with defending the dark gallery than living in real life] Come quick lol
[No words, can’t argue, just screaming at the dark gallery’s average level wwww]
[Author] Is… this the Attack Clan’s average???
-How the hell did you do it to knock #1 in under a minute? Are you actually insane?
[Real talk, every time the target position changed I kept missing but still]
[eh? You’re the crazy girl who solo’d a five-man full-kit party last time???]
[What the actual fuck are you talking about]
[Why the angry crying lol]
[Sorry]
[What are you even doing lol lol lol lol lol lol lol super ridiculous losers]
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