Steer Clear Of The Shooting Lanes

Rhea didn't trust him. That much was clear from the moment she spotted him– tall, quiet and too composed for her liking.

Her unease wasn't just some fleeting instinct– it was a visceral, crawling sensation beneath her skin.

She briefly thought about reporting him to the instructor, but the idea withered before it could form into action. She already knew what the response would be, since he was part of the so-called elites.

There was no denying it, he was literally wearing the fuckin' crest, hence, nothing would be done, considering how Callista made them sound like gods around here. Afterall, this academy wasn't designed to protect people like her anyway.

Maybe she should have kept that golden crest and used it to her own advantage rather than giving it back to them.

But really, when has Marksmanship ever been considered a school-sanctioned recreational activity? She could understand if they were enrolled in a military program or some elite defense training school– but this place was supposed to be just another ordinary academy, wasn't it?

Certainly didn't feel like it.

"Rhea Ashbourne?" The sound of someone calling her name drew her attention, whilst she turned to find the instructor staring at the roster in his hand before letting his gaze settle on her. "You're up next. Select your weapon and stay in your lane."

Rhea nodded mutely, turning toward the counter with mechanical stiffness. The surface was nearly bare– and each slot was an empty cradle save for one.

Instinctively, her gaze locked onto the last weapon left behind, and her fingers reached out to grab it. However, she stopped suddenly, her fingers suspended mid-air. Rhea's breath snagged in her throat as she stared at the only weapon left, and something inside her cracked.

The weapon was unmistakably a matte black Glock 19, compact with a short barrel and cold, tapered iron sights. It seemed innocuous to the untrained eyes, but to Rhea, it was death incarnate.

The color drained from her face almost immediately, and her pupils constricted as recognition dawned on her. Tremors began in her hands, then it spread to her shoulders, and then the memory hit her like a truck.

There was blood. So much blood.

Her small, trembling hands had clutched something familiar to that, except it wasn't a training gun, but the actual thing. It felt real, heavy and warm from recent discharge. Her fair palms were slick with someone else's blood, and that was the day she made her escape from the Blackreach institute. Red strobe of lights had spun wildly in the corners of the hall that day, and alarms howled as reinforced glass spiderwebbed and exploded outward.

Screams tore through the air as everyone tried to evacuate, their cries raw and animalistic, as they hadn't expected to die that fateful night.

She stood in the center of it all, her plain white gown now dyed red. She raised the Glock with a vengeful look in her crimson eyes, her finger squeezing the trigger again and again. Firing anything that moved. But someone shot her from behind, the bullet penetrating through her back.

"Miss Ashbourne!"

A voice broke through her thoughts, shattering her memories, and she blinked. She realized almost everyone at the dome was staring at her at this point, and she could hear them whisper.

"Is she starting to regret her choice to partake in the test? Poor thing looks like she's about to faint." Their snickers did not go unheard, and more voices joined.

"As she should. Hitting an accurate shot isn't child's play, darling. We spent up to four weeks under instructor Virrel's gruel, angering regimens just so we could learn the basics for today's test. And she thinks she can just waltz in and ace it on her first try? Please. She's probably praying to the gods of beginner's luck as we speak."

"Have you seen the thread on the Nova website? The commentators are savage this time around. She's clearly a walking scandal waiting to happen and mark my words when I say this, she's gonna end up like the previous Ashbourne. Challenging Nesta was bad enough, but showing up here utterly unprepared and placing your merit points on the line? A very stupid decision. She should have followed her disabled roommate back to the dorm room and stayed out of sight."

Their laughter reminded Rhea of the delicate chime of silver bells, beautiful, but grating in the wrong hands. And somehow, the careless sound of those giggles was all the motivation she needed to finally move her fingers and raise the gun. Without so much as a second thought, she spun around and pulled the trigger.

BANG!! BANG!!

Two capsules flew through the air, striking two girls squarely on the face and splattering across their sport shirts. Their startled screams pierced the dome room like an alarm, drawing the attention of everyone nearby. The instructor, who was busy recording the performance of a male student who had already completed his round, jerked his head up in alarm.

The chaos originated near the shooting lane, where, inexplicably, two girls, who shouldn't even be there, had been standing far too close to it. Rhea held the gun in her steady grip, the muzzle clearly pointed in their direction. The girls were too stunned to speak, as they hadn't expected Rhea would recognize their voices.

"Oh no!" Rhea exclaimed, breaking into a dramatic run as she approached them, her tone laced with a theatrical kind of worry. "I haven't been on a real battlefield before, but even I know it's common sense to steer clear of the shooting lanes. I thought you two were targets."

"Why did you fire?" The instructor immediately approached, his expression tight with concern as he checked the two students, who were now wailing more from the shock rather than the pain that came with the impact of the hit.

He faced Rhea, his expression stern. "I know I told you it was your turn, but you weren't supposed to shoot until the buzzer sounded. Weren't you watching everyone else?"

"How was I supposed to know?" Rhea replied coolly, staring at the gun in her hand, and she refused to show a flicker of unease. "I did ask to be briefed on the rules, and you never mentioned a buzzer. Perhaps I thought I didn't need one. But now that you mentioned it, I assume those two shots won't be counted, since the round wasn't technically in play?"

Their eyes locked, and something sharp and calculating simmered behind hers. It was a clear glint that the shot hadn't been accidental, and he knew that too from the way it struck the girls. No newbie could make an accurate shot like that the way she did and call it a mistake. Others clearly didn't notice the perfection behind it, but he was a retired military soldier, and he knew exactly what went down from merely observing the two victims.

He didn't flinch under the weight of her veiled defiance, but he couldn't help feeling a flicker of something else.

He was impressed.

"HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?" One of the girls shrieked, her voice cracking with outrage as she stumbled backward, her eyes wide with disbelief. "You SHOT the gun at us!!! Instructor, do you see what this lunatic just did? She shouldn't be allowed to partake in the test!"

Rhea rolled her eyes at the girl, as if she was already tired of feigning her inexistent concern. "Imagine if it had been a real gun," she mused. "We'd be scraping dead bodies off the floor by now instead of debating over how I get to take my test or not. Lucky for you two, the instructor only armed us with replicas. I bet it wasn't even that painful, don't be overly dramatic."

The two girls were about to retaliate almost at the same time, but Rhea's cold stare made them close their mouths before they could even think about doing it. It had taken them a while to realize that this new student wasn't like the meek, broken Lila who went through hell in this academy. This version of Ashbourne held their gaze with an unflinching calm that dared them to say something or jeopardize her test. Her eyes were the definition of 'if looks could kill, I'd be dead'. The warning in them was louder than any threat they could possibly muster.

Turning to the instructor for help, desperation etched into their expressions, they hoped he would do something, but to their shock, he barely looked up as he marked something on the roster.

"After Miss Ashbourne, you two are up next ," he said flatly. "Go wash off and return before you miss your slot."

"WHAT!!" The dismissal stung. The two girls stood frozen, and even Rhea hadn't expected such indifference either. He was clearly on her side for some reason, and the rest of her classmates sensed it too.

Feeling indignant, humiliated and righteously fuming, the two girls had no choice but to exit the dome. The weight of unwanted attention trailed behind them as they vanished toward the female locker rooms.

Hearing someone clap made Rhea's gaze dart upward, and her expression went sour again. She completely forgot those jobless humans were still here.