[b]Marcus Goldstein - Practice[/b]

All told shooting paper targets was rather relaxing. Especially at ranges that Marcus could hit them with low powered phlegm.

He spent a few seconds just getting his breathing right. Just because the targets were in what most hunters would consider ‘melee range’ did not mean he should not take it seriously. He still had a bet to win. Stand straight, aim with both eyes open, exhale steadily, and then gently squeeze. His grandfather likened it to pinching the bottom of a pretty girl when he taught Marcus the skill.

A small hole appeared an inch above the bullseye.

Marcus was not good with girls. Nonetheless the shooting lessons resounded well with his slow and steady approach to life.

Each and every shot was sent downrange with great care, to the point Marcus was only on his fourth shot by the time most others were already finished. Unfortunately some poor sod had the terrible luck to get too close, and like it was pre-aimed the hot casing ended up inside the shirt of the bespectacled boy.

“You hurt?” Marcus asked dryly as he flicked the safety back on. While doubtful that the brass did anything other than irritate, it was only polite to ask. Frankly though Marcus simply wanted to go back to shooting again.