[u][b]Trad Oak – Practice[/b][/u]

Trad waited until Ms. Vanhomrigh finished her instructions before responding to Marcus’s offer.

“Nah, you two both seem like you were born with rifles, I’d probably get my ass handed to me.” He was no stranger to guns himself, but as father always said, [i]Just because you learned how to swim doesn’t mean you should race the fish.[/i]

Slipping the safety glasses on, Trad picked up one of the rifles he had been inspecting earlier along with a magazine. After heading to an empty spot on the range he grabbed the headphones slung around his neck. Stretching them out to put them on he stopped to listen as Ms. Vanhomrigh began scolding the pink girl for pulling out her own weapon.

“Poor girl.” Trad said to himself, he couldn’t help but pity her. So far she had been late to not one, but two classes they had been in, and she failed the obstacle course. Now she missed key instruction and was being drilled by Ms. Vanhomrigh. Yet she didn’t appear to be giving in.

Turning back to his own lane, he replaced his headphones on his ears and picked up his rifle. Plugging the magazine in securely and pulling the latch back he lifted the rifle to his shoulder and put the stock firmly against it. Clicking the safety off, he lowered his head to the rifle and readied his site. 

The second the target popped up, Trad squeezed the trigger. A little too hasty for his liking, but he had four other shots to take is time on. Taking deep breaths and steadying his aim, he fired of the last four shots each with careful concentration. 

Watching his target lower Trad felt confident he at least kept within the middle 3 circles.

“Ahh!”

Quickly turning toward the scream, he saw Robert flailing about as if a bee were on him. Trad simply shook his head and spoke softly, “Those two were probably made for each other.”