>BANG The spent 5.56 casing is extracted from the chamber by the extractor on the BCG, hot gases pushing against the gas key, forcing the bolt back against the spring in the buffer tube. Upon its return to battery, the BCG picks up another cartridge waiting between the feed lips of the magazine, pushing it into the chamber exactly as the last; mechanical precision at it’s finest, the entire cycle taking less than 1/16th of a second. In fact, the spent casing was in the process of striking the brass deflector as the BCG was picking up the next round. Another casing is expelled from the rifle as Anon fires again. This time the bolt did not return to battery, instead locking open. With a push of a button, the magazine dropped free. Depressing the bolt release, the AR-15’s bolt slammed forward, returning to battery once again. Flicking the safety lever back onto safe, Anon laid the rifle down on the table, smiling from ear to ear. >‘1500 rounds down, 1500 to go,’ Anon thought, handloading the magazines. ‘I really need to invest in those speedloaders.’ The silence of the range was only interrupted by the occasional clicking of bullets being loaded into magazines. Before long, Anon had the remaining 1500 rounds loaded into his stockpile of magazines. Hands sore, he decided to rest his hands a bit before firing. Taking a seat, he sighed, and took a deep breath. School was beginning tomorrow. Today would be the last day to use his own personal rifle, before he was issued an Academy firearm. Hearing soft footfalls behind him, Anon turned to see Sayori, his childhood friend, running up to him. Dressed in a elbow-length light-pink long-sleeved shirt with thigh-high shorts and a belt, on which her pistol was holstered, she clumsily stumbled up the steep incline to where Anon was sitting. >“Sayori? Why are you so late? I thought I told you to be here 3 hours ago! Did you even remember to bring a handgun this time?” Anon said. >“You’re so mean, Anon! but I did this time, see?” she says, drawing a .50AE IMI Desert Eagle. >“Jesus, Sayori, where did you even get that? There’s no way you can use one of those! You’re going to end up hurting yourself. Here, let me see if I have another one you can use.” Anon replies, searching for a spare sidearm. >“Here,” he says, extending a Beretta 92FS to Sayori. >“Ehehe, thanks Anon,” she says, touching her index fingers together. She accepts the smaller handgun. “I like this, it looks funny and kinda cute.” >“I’m glad you like it,” Anon says. As she gets a feel for the pistol, she muzzle sweeps Anon with it, causing him to panic. >“Sayori! Watch where you’re pointing that! Don’t you remember firearm safety?” Anon cries in worry. >“Ehehe, sorry Anon. Guess I forgot,” She replies. >“Why don’t you give it a few shots?” Anon asks, stepping behind her, out of her line of fire. >“Okay!” She replies, already enjoying herself. Anon looks back, and sees Sayori about to fire. She has the pistol inches from her face, with only one hand on the gun, firing a round before Anon can tell her to stop. >“Ow!” Rushing to her aid, Anon inspects her face. There’s no major injuries, just a small red bruise. >“It’s okay. It’s just a bruise, not even a cut. Here, lemme help you.” Helping her point it downrange, Anon places his hands over Sayori’s grip on the Beretta. >“Okay, now slowly squeeze the trigger.” Anon says into Sayori’s ear. >BANG >BANG >BANG >“Wow, can I keep this, Anon? I really like it!” She says with a grin. >“Uh, sure. Just be a bit more careful from now on.” Anon replies. >“Say, Anon, what club are you going to join tomorrow?” Sayori asks. “The CQB club again?” >“Hmm, I don’t know yet. Why do you ask?” >“Well, the Marksmanship club is open, and i’m the Vice President of it so... Could you try it out? You’ve never shot past 100 meters before, it’ll be something new for you!” >“We’ll see,” Anon replies. “I’ll have to think about it some more.” They spend the rest of the day at the range, laughing together and magdumping into the dirt backstop. --------- At the corner of the intersection, Anon waits for Sayori patiently. Glancing at his watch, he checks the time. >‘15 minutes. If she’s not here in 5, I’ll walk to school alone.’ Anon thinks to himself. The sounds of an exhausted Sayori come rushing down the sidewalk. Anon looks over Sayori, before speaking his mind. >“What took you so long? We would’ve been late if you’d taken any longer!” Anon says as the crosswalk lights up, indicating it’s safe to cross. >“Ehehe, sorry Anon! I forgot to set my alarm, and I woke up late. I barely had time to get my things! At least I made it in time to meet with you!” Sayori says sweetly, touching her index fingers. >“I’m just glad we aren’t late.” Anon bluntly replies. -------- The school day passes in what seems like an instant. Greetings were exchanged, friends reunited, and groaning about homework filled the halls of the Academy. Anon sat in his classroom, quietly packing up his things. Sayori’s head popped in the doorway, and she strode into the classroom. >“Anon! Have you decided on a club yet?” She asks. >“Not yet. I’m still debating about picking one.” >“Well, would a few Flashbangs change your mind? One of our club members brought some, and made a couple blocks of C-4 too!” Sayori says, obviously bribing me. Mildly interested, Anon agrees to check out the Marksmanship club, under the influence of free flashbangs and plastic explosive. >Thus marks the day Anon sold his soul for a few bricks of C-4. Entering the room, Anon was surprised to see three other girls in the club. One was short with shoulder-length pink hair, with a clip parting it to one side, holding a tray full of C-4 bricks; she was most likely a first-year. Another sat in the corner, her face buried in a book, titled ‘Markov’s Table of Ballistics’, revealing only her slender legs and her purple hair. Then, there was Monika, who was in Anon’s class last year. She was the school’s top shooter in the rifle-team, and was selected to compete against other schools in the marksmanship. She was laying on her desk, looking down the riflescope of her precision rifle, intently focused on the target downrange. Before Anon could back out of the club, Sayori spoke up, alerting all members of the club. >“Hey everyone! I’ve got a new member!” >“Sayori! I thought I told you to let me know first,” the pink-haired girl complains. >“A new member?” the one with purple hair says, chuckling nervously. >“Oh, Anon! Welcome to the club!” Monika says, looking up from her rifle. After his introduction, Anon learned the names of the other students. >The short pink-haired one is Natsuki, a first-year, who got into the Marksmanship Club because she was ‘tired of being the best in CQB’. >The tall, slender girl with purple hair is Yuri. Anon could tell she was nervous and didn’t have much social experience, but she seemed like a nice girl. The way she held herself didn’t imply she had much self esteem. >‘Just like me,’ Anon thought. >“Welcome to the club, Anon!” Monika says enthusiastically, “It’s great that you’re here now; we can finally be an official club!” >“I- >“Yeah! He’s happy to be here! Right, Anon?” Sayori asks. >“Uh- >“I-It’s nice to finally meet you. Sayori talks about you alot here.” Yuri says, fidgeting with her long locks of hair. >“Excu- >“Did you promise him my C-4, Sayori? The last guy you brought in took it and ran off! C-4 doesn’t grow on trees you know!” Natsuki says, continuing to chew out Sayori, who responded with ‘Ehehe…’ At this point, Anon gave up on talking. He’d be cut off every time he attempted to say a word. Instead, Anon just simply nodded along, not really paying attention to what they were saying. >“So, Anon, be here right after SERE class, okay? I’ll be looking forward to it!” Monika instructs, turning back to adjusting her riflescope. >“Um, I haven’t agreed to- >“Hmm? Did you say something, Anon?” she says, turning to face Anon. Her emerald-green eyes bore into his. Caught off guard, Anon’s sentence catches in his throat. Her eyes had completely disarmed him. Suddenly finding that he can’t bring himself to tell her that he doesn’t want to be in the club, Anon instead mumbles, >“Nothing, I’ll be here tommorow.” >“Fantastic! I knew I could count on you, Anon!” Monika said cheerily. With that, Anon is now officially part of the Marksmanship Club. --- The 4 chimes of the Academy bell signals the end of classes. >“That’s it for today, class. There will be a LANDNAV quiz next class, and your SERE final will be next week. Dismissed.” Anon loitered around, waiting for the rest of the class to disperse. Once the entire class had left earshot, he approached Instructor Yannao. >“Need something, Anon?” Yannao said, looking up from his clipboard. >“Sir. If I may ask, what’s the point of clubs? I don’t feel like they are necessary for the Academy. If we wanted to go to afterschool clubs, shouldn’t we have joined a different school?” >“Regret joining a club, Anon? I can tell.” Yannao said, his words laced with ancient wisdom. >“I could go on and tell you exactly what the handbook says, all that bullshit about ‘additional educational benefits’. The real purpose, the reason we make you take an afterschool club, is because we want you to build social skills; soldiers need to be able to communicate effectively. We aren’t training you to be mindless weapons; we’re training you to be soldiers. You must be capable of independent thought, and have the ability to question orders.” Anon simply nodded along. >“I know you’re tuning me out already. But take this last piece of advice: Have fun in whatever you do. It’s all about the mindset, Anon. I hated SERE, look what I’m doing now. It’s the best thing in the world to me now. You might just change your mind, Anon.” Anon searched his Instructor’s eyes for any hints of deception; he found no traces. >“Thank you, sir. I’ll take that into account.” He said respectfully. >“Now, if you could assist me with disarming this snare trap, I’d be grateful.” Yannao chuckled. --- Limping up the stairs, Anon reached the 3rd floor of the Rifle Building where the Marksmanship Club was located. Rubbing the bruise on his ankle, he entered the room. A loud CRACK greeted him as he entered, his earpro automatically filtering out a majority of the dangerous decibels. Another shot rang out, distinctively different. A lower, bass-like CRACK, followed by the sound of a rifle action being worked. Fully opening the door, Anon observed all four fellow Marksmanship Club members lying prone on their desks, aiming out the windows to the Rifle Range. Like a good Academy student, he instinctively observed their rifles first. >Natsuki, staring downrange with her spotting scope; her Mk. 12 SPR resting on it’s bipod, spare magazines strewn about her firing area. >Yuri, working the bolt on her Kar98k with an ammo box labeled ‘8mm Mauser’, a K31 and Mosin PU resting against the wall with additional ammo boxes nearby, labeled 7.62x54R and 7.5x55 respectively. >Sayori’s Accuracy International Arctic Warfare slung is around her back, while she peers downrage with a pair of binoculars. >Monika aiming downrange while simultaneously loading a fresh magazine into her Falkor Petra, a CADEX CDX-50 Tremor resting on it’s bipod next to the desk, the action open and clear. After glancing over their weapons, Anon’s eyes wandered to their pantsu. >Pink, Purple, Black, and White. Walking to his desk, Anon opens his rifle case, setting up his Desert Tactical SRS-A1. Laying on the desk, he also peers downrange. There were targets from 500 meters to 1,500 meters; each target spaced 50 meters apart. Every single target below 800 meters had a multitude of holes punched in the bullseye. Anon stared intently at the 850m target. Monika shouted out windage and range before Yuri fired once more. Anon watched the bullet trace; the supersonic wake of the 7.92mm round as it cut through the air, arching to the target. He watched in amazement as the round printed a neat hole, millimeters next to the X mark in the center of the target. >“Hit! You’re dead center! Send it again!” Monika shouted. >BANG >“Hit! Hold left a little!” >BANG >“Hit! Perfect! Amazing job, Yuri!” Monika said, patting Yuri on the shoulder. >“Oh! Anon! You’re here! We just finished, Ahaha…” Monika said, “Okay everyone, clear your rifles! Be sure to point them downrange, then come to the front of the room to debrief!” Unlocking the action of his SRS-A1, Anon walks over to the rest of the Club, who are all huddled around a tablet, chattering about their target results. >“Let’s see. Natsuki and Sayori are tied at 800 points. Yuri is next with 1050 points. I’m in the lead with 1200 points. You’ve all improved! Let’s all try our best!” Monika excitedly says. There’s a recreation of each shot taken by each shooter, and a score tally goes up. Both Yuri and Monika have perfect scores, but Yuri has time penalties. Sayori and Natsuki have accuracy penalties. Monika is the only one to receive a perfect score. >‘As expected of the top marksman.’ Anon thinks. >“I’m going to practice some more!” Natsuki proclaims, walking back to her shooting position. >“I’ll spot for you, then. I haven’t done anything yet, since I was so late.” Anon offers. Natsuki seems to ponder this, before hesitantly accepting. >“Fine. But don’t mess me up!” --- >“Miss! You’re off to the right.” >“I-I know! Just be more quiet! You’re disrupting my concentration!” Anon raises an eyebrow at this remark. >“I think you’re getting too flustered. Calm down a bit.” >“Who’s getting flustered, you idiot?!? It’s certainly not me! Maybe you need your head checked!” Natsuki says defensively. >“Relax. I didn’t mean to poke at you. I’m talking about your breathing. You’re holding your breath when you shoot.” >“N-No I’m not! I’m not holding my breath for you or anything!” she says. >“That’s not what I meant. You should be shooting when you exhale; that’s when you’re the most steady. Try it.” Anon offers. >“Fine! It’s just going to make me tired though.” >BANG >“Hit! 8 ring, high left! Good shot!” Anon says, “See? It does help.” >“Hmph.” She pouts, “So what? I could’ve done that without your help anyways!” >Laughing, Anon replies, “Sure.” --- >“Okay everyone! It’s getting late now, so the club is dismissed! I want everyone to get a good night’s sleep, because tomorrow we’re going night-shooting! Bring your night-vision! Ahaha~” Sayori and Anon walk home together, like usual. >“How was it, Anon? I saw you and Natsuki together, you guys seems like perfect range buddies. Why can’t that be me?” >What was that, Sayori? Did you say something about Natsuki?” Anon asks. >“N-No! It’s just, uh, you guys seemed to work well together! That’s all.” >“Oh. Yeah, sure I guess.” Anon says, “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow. Later!” >“Yeah, bye.” ---- Sayori walks home in silence; her mind was busy replaying the conversation with Anon. >‘Did he hear me? Does he know? I didn’t say anything wrong did I? I should’ve just said it.’ >“Oh well, it’s too late now.” She says aloud. Sayori enters her house, and says “I’m home!” as usual, even though there’s no one there to greet her. She walks up to her room and tosses her belongings onto her desk, plopping herself down on her bed. Clutching her pillow tightly, she reaches out to touch her bedsheet. >“I’m alone.” >“I hate being alone.” >“Being alone…” >“Makes me feel empty.” >“I want someone to be here for me.” >“Anon, won’t you?” >“But I don’t want to spoil what we have already.” >“Because you’re all I have.” ---- Yuri laid in the bushes outside of Anon’s house. Her ghillie suit allowed to her blend in perfectly with the foliage; Anon never even saw her, nor had a clue that she was there. Yuri’s monocular tracked every movement that Anon made; Yuri had 15 TB of video and pictures of Anon in his own home. Whenever possible, she snuck into his room, taking in the scent of Anon; she even bottled it into a spray, smelling it as often as possible. Yuri was completely infatuated with Anon. She knew every little detail about him: his clothing size, his morning routine, what brand of shampoo he used, his favorite patch on the plate carrier he has under his bed, his secret stash of lewd /ak/ magazines he keeps in a false bottom in his ammunition drawer. Ever since middle school, Yuri had stalked Anon. She was careful not to attract any attention to herself. She was quiet and timid, while Anon was cool and calm; he was friendly with everybody. Yuri found herself inexplicably drawn to him. She wanted to be with him so desperately, but never had the courage to ask him; Sayori always orbited him, preventing her from coming close. >“Tsk! That airhead! Why doesn’t she just confess to him already? Then I could- I could…” She trails off, imagining a world of bliss with only her and Anon; nothing stopping them from being apart. ----- Natsuki leans on her bedroom wall, her arms crossed over her chest. >‘Just what does that idiot think he’s doing? Getting me all flustered like that.’ She thinks. She sinks to her knees, arms hugging her legs. >‘So what if I shot better with his help? I don’t need him!’ She lets her head touch her knees, arms still wrapped tightly against her legs. >‘I’ll show them. They’ll see. They’ll see how wonderful I am. I can shoot better than all the other first-years. Then I can be good at everything. Anon will see, and… and…’ >“What am I thinking? He’ll never…” she says aloud, letting her voice trail. >“He has Sayori. I’m probably nothing to him.” A single tear makes its way down her face. >“No. I’ll prove it to him.” ---- Monika leans back in her chair. All of the brass used in today’s meeting was neatly stacked in a box, left for the janitors to take. The fully disassembled Falkor Petra lay neatly before her on the desk. With practiced ease, she began to reassemble it, her hands moving automatically. Something else was on her mind though. Anon. Whenever he was around, his smile, his face, his eyes… It did something to her. Deep in her chest, she felt like a weight was lifted; the stress of the Academy tournament coming up, the long nights studying the minutia of ballistics, the tenacity of reloading match ammunition. It all melted away when he smiled at her. She could feel her heart flutter as she thought about him. The way he smiled, the way he held himself. >‘What is this feeling?’ She thought. >‘Is this normal?’ Inserting the magazine into the Petra, racking and dry firing it, she thought of Anon. >‘I wish I could do this with Anon, if he was here.’ >‘I want him to take all this stress away.’ She looked at the clock. >22:57 >‘Looks like I’ll be sleeping here again…’ --- [To be continued]