M-m-m-monster Kill!
Our story begins in the halcyon days which brought closure to the 20th Century. I speak of none other than the year 2000, when Unreal Tournament and Quake III: Arena battled it out to see who would eventually own the ladder.
I myself had thrown in my lot with Unreal Tournament, and had, with some friends, formed a small, informal clan who met up on Friday evenings to bring mayhem and destruction to our enemies. If you're at all familiar with Unreal Tournament, then you know the map 'Facing Worlds ]['. It was our favorite map upon which to frag, because its layout forced direct conflict between the teams: if you wanted to capture the flag, you had to cross the wide open territory in the center to access the other side's base.
This made 'Facing Worlds ][' a sniper's wet dream, and one member of my team was an exceptionally lethal shot with the sniper rifle. We'd start the map and basically just leave this player to do their own thing. The rest of us would coordinate offense or defense strategy through our headsets, but our sniper was left to their own devices--snipers have one job: to separate heads from torsos. Our philosophy was to let the grunts handle the gruntwork, and let the sniper do their thing. No fuss, no muss.
Thus, one evening, we found ourselves matched with another team on 'Facing Worlds ][' and right from the start we knew we were in for a fight. The teams were very evenly matched, their five to our five, and it didn't take long before the abuse started raining down from the other side. It quickly became apparent that the main thrust of the other team's anger was their inability to figure out where our sniper was. Being an intelligent and cunning sniper, they had deployed to a spot on the map that gave them a fairly wide vantage point but was not immediately obvious. Equally irritating to the other side, our sniper stayed perfectly silent no matter how much the other team insulted, provoked, and intimated at our sniper's amorous relationship with various family members.
As the match continued, and our sniper continued to pick off their snipers while we'd sprint across the map to their fortress, the verbal abuse reached a fever pitch. We eventually won the match something like 20 - 12--not exactly a shutout, but it was clear luck wasn't a huge factor in our win. Finally the captain of the other team got on global chat and laid down an ultimatum: put the sniper on to talk, or else they'd file a complaint of us using a bot on our side.
With a grin, our sniper reached up, turned on the mic, and said, "Does it make it better to know you spent the last hour getting owned by a girl? Or worse?"
I couldn't hear the answer. The rest of the room erupted in laughter, our sniper cracked her knuckles, and went back to the keyboard, ready for the next round. 'WN_Areala' had dropped both the hurt and the mic on the group. Rumor has it their egos have yet to recover nearly two decades later.
Special thanks to @deadspace for offering up this contest! I hope y'all got some laughs, or at least a hearty chuckle, out of it, and I look forward to reading the other entries.