"Do you think your shoulder can handle all five shots?" I asked her, only letting the smallest hint of smugness enter my voice. I walked over to the table and picked up a semi-automatic auto gun. Checked its magazine, reloaded, cocked the hammer, and took a far too casual stance as I walked up and stood five meters [i]behind[/i] the firing line. I took less than a second to aim and fired. The gun roared, a bright flash erupted from its muzzle. 

A hole an inch to the right of center mass materialized on one of the targets. It was a smooth, capable shot from someone firing weapons for over half of his life and practicing twice a week when he was not too busy with his duties. Yes, I was a better swordsman than marksmen, but these targets were close in my estimation. The closest they could be while still accurately applying the practice of ranged fire. I put the gun down and stepped back, gesturing for her to take her next turn. I tried to remain impassive, but the look she gave me caused me to smile, which just incriminated me more. 

She took the shotgun, examined it for a moment, and blew a fringe of her golden hair out of her eyes before taking her position and aiming down the center and doing as I had instructed. Seconds passed by, and she fired, her shotgun punching a hole through a target. It was two inches below bullseye, though it was hard to tell from the shredding of the target by her gun. 

Things progressed similarly to that, my shots hitting bullseyes or very near to it, and Emmaline not quite matching my ease of aim whilst simultaneously still accruing a point for the scoreboard. 

Her fifth shot was her worst, but only by the grace of the God Emperor did three pellets of her shot hit into the target. If I missed entirely, she would win. If I hit anywhere near where I was supposed to, I would take the day. 

"Hmmm, what do I want from you?" I asked her playfully. "I'd need to think about it..."