“No! You’re supposed to take the corner one at a time!”

Jerik’s voice was already hoarse from all the yelling he’d done that day. He was not enjoying this one bit. Jumping down from the ledge he’d been using to observe the squad’s training, he stumbled slightly but pushed on as if there’d been no issue. Nicholas looked stubborn and angry at his outburst but waited for him to explain. Jerik grabbed a training rifle from one of them, ignoring the man’s scoff.

“Watch,” he said coldly, pulling back the slide to load the first round. The very fact that the idiot hadn’t loaded his weapon was another issue he’d have to address. “Benji, show them what happens when I cross as they did.”

He stepped out and away from the wall they’d sheltered behind, swinging his weapon up and to the right. He really tried to shoot Benji first, but as he’d predicted, he felt a solid smack against his forehead. There would be a clear glowing mark there from the training round she’d just hit him with. He turned to stare pointedly at Nicholas and his squadron, his eyes glaring. “See? Now watch this.”

He returned to his starting position, then took the corner again at high speed. This time, he tilted the rifle out and around the corner first, exposing as little of himself as possible. Meanwhile, he was treated to a proper view of Benji, who stood with her rifle leveled. He could see her eyes partially close as she grinned at him, and then felt another impact on his forehead, and stumbled back. She just had to show off, she thought. Fine then. He’d show her.

“Katrina!” Almost at once, the woman, who’d been standing by on the corner opposite him, sprang into action, flashing around the corner like a ghost. By the time Benji had turned to face her older sister, she’d already been hit twice. She lowered her rifle with an audible groan, hanging her head. Jerik nodded approvingly, then turned and threw the training rifle back at its owner. “You can’t give them too much to shoot at. That’s how you die, and when you die, you’re wasting my time.”

His words were met by more glares, not just from Nicholas this time. They’d joined his new platoon with a decent level of enthusiasm, and had even agreed to rigorous training. Knowing that they were far from well-geared, Jerik had come up with a training regiment to improve their basic skills, helped by Benji and Katrina, who were much more experienced with rifles and front-line fighting. The mercenaries were experts at their craft and had agreed to run the exercises for a small fee.

“I don’t see why it’s important to know this,” Nicholas retorted. He lifted his left forearm to display the bracer. “I’m a melee fighter. This shield means I can take any gunfire and get in close.”

“That shield only covers you from one side,” Jerik pointed out, pointing to emphasize his words. “If you don’t have awareness, you’ll still get shot from the back.”

Nicholas didn’t reply, but Jerik got the sense that he felt that was impossible. Letting out a sigh of annoyance, Jerik directed them back to the starting point. “Let’s go from the top. Back to the start, and watch how you’re taking your corners.”

As he climbed back up to the ledge where he had a good view over the small course, Jerik saw Benji moving back from her position. Half-concealing her body, she lifted her rifle, ready to engage. Jerik caught her attention and waved in a downward motion. She gave a brief wave of her own to show she understood, then dropped to one knee, making herself a smaller target. It didn’t increase the difficulty of the task for the squadron running the course, but they’d really have to pay attention if they wanted to avoid getting shot again.

Nicholas took the lead again, his training rifle lifted to the ready position as he advanced. Jerik watched the young man closely, noticing with some relief that he did at least keep his body loose and relaxed, only tensing the muscles that he needed. His experience in martial arts had already taught him how to maneuver and use his own muscles when in combat. That skillset transferred over. The rest of the squad behind him were bundles of tension, their movements jerky and uncertain. Nothing affected accuracy more than a tense, inflexible movement, Jerik knew.

He held his breath as Nicholas approached the corner. A slight pause, then his torso tilted to the side, and he stepped out with one smooth lunge. The adjustment of his rifle was obvious even from a dozen yards away, and the sound of his rifle reached Jerik’s ears clearly. Nicholas let out a sound of annoyance, turning away from Benji’s position with a scowl. Jerik dropped back down and came over to study the effects.

“Much better on the corner,” he said, offering Nicholas a consoling look. At least, that’s how he hoped it came across. The glowing red dot indicating Benji’s shot was still plainly visible on his chest. “I saw you correct your aim. Good work on that.”

To his surprise, Benji abandoned her position and crossed over. Even more surprising was the red dot on her left forearm, evidence that Nicholas was at least able to get a shot off. His eyebrows shot up in approval. It was far from a lethal, or even a telling blow, but it was proof that he’d been taking the training seriously. Serious improvement. He beckoned the young man back over and pointed at the mark on Benji’s arm.

“I see it,” Nicholas said dully, his face still clearly showing his frustration. “Wasn’t enough to stop her from shooting me.”

“Maybe not,” Benji said. “But you’ve got good reflexes. Just practice on that accuracy, and you’ll be terrifying on the battlefield.”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

The compliment came as a pleasant surprise to Nicholas, particularly from a pretty young girl like Benji. He smiled slightly, lowering his face in embarrassment. “Thanks.”

Jerik glanced between the two of them, then rolled his eyes. Was this a meet-cute, or a simulated battlefield? He cleared his throat sharply, causing both to jump. “Right. I want you in here at least an hour every day of the month, practicing this movement.”

“All month?” Nicholas asked, looking flabbergasted. “Why so long?”

“How did you get so good with a sword?” Jerik countered with his own question, then answered before he could open his mouth. “You practiced constantly, working the same moves until they became instinctive.”

“You know how to fight with a sword?” The young man looked him up and down, his eyes wide. “I didn’t know you used one.”

“I don’t,” Jerik said, scowling. “With the average range of even the simplest handgun, a sword’s useless. But I use a knife if I’m forced into close-quarters. I’ll cover that eventually.”

He also made a mental note to buy another Tek knife when he was in the market next. It had completely slipped his mind after Sel-Kenna had visited him. He hadn’t even gotten the chance to test out that new rifle, either. It had spent the rest of the day, and all of the next in the Tek chest, waiting for him to get free time to practice. That gave him another idea. He gave them instructions to stow their training rifles away and meet him outside the compound in half an hour, then dismissed them with a wave.

“Call Morgan,” he said to his mobile device. The screen flashed in response to his verbal command, and he lifted it to his ear. After a few rings, the call connected. “Morgan, I need you to transport me to the top of Market Tower.”

“Sure,” she said casually. “What do you need up there?”

“Giving the newbies some practice,” he said. He hoped that the amusement in his voice wasn’t too obvious. “Also, get all our new recruits to meet outside the front of the compound, while you’re at it.”

“Very well,” she said. “Be there in a minute.”

The call ended, and Jerik stuffed the device back in his pocket. Then he crossed over to the gear table, where his Tek chest was sitting, and picked it up by the handle. Tek in Menora really was extraordinary, being able to fit so much into a box no larger than a suitcase. Morgan appeared out of thin air next to him, stepping lightly through a portal. She was adjusting her robe as if she’d just pulled it on a second earlier. Her hair was damp, held back from her face by a tight bun.

“You can’t be serious,” she said dryly, glancing down at the Tek chest in his hand. “On their first day? Really?”

“I’ll use training rounds,” Jerik assured her. “But they need to learn a lot, so we can’t waste time.”

She let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose with her finger and thumb. He looked at her with some concern. “Migraine?”

“I suspect I’ll have one by the time the day’s over,” she grumbled. “Alright, let’s get it over with.”

She made a circular motion with her finger, and a spinning red circle appeared. In less than a second, he saw the bright blue sky of the outside air, and a view overlooking much of the city. He jumped through the portal, beckoning her to follow. Benji followed as well, looking faintly curious, but Katrina stayed back, waving them off with a smirk.

“Katrina,” Jerik called. “Go to the trade quarter and see if we can find a good property for our compound. Whatever’s cheap and can house fifty people.”

“You can’t afford to hire fifty people,” Morgan pointed out. “Let alone fund their gear.”

“Who says I’m going to fund their gear?” Jerik asked, setting the Tek chest down and opening it with his thumb. “They’re going to earn their gear, just like I did. They’ll each get a simple rifle to go hunting, and they can take it from there.”

“Says the guy who got his current gear for free,” She countered waspishly. “You going hunting, or are you satisfied with leeching off a Menoran?”

He stared at her in silence for several seconds. What had gotten her in such a foul mood all of a sudden? Retrieving Paragon from the chest, he slammed it shut with his foot. “Of course, I’m going hunting again. I don’t have any Raid-Class armor or other equipment.”

Choosing not to comment on her sudden snippy mood, he took a quick second to examine the rifle more closely. It was a standard bolt-action, he noticed, with a side-fed magazine. That wouldn’t be too easy to wield. The barrel was matte black and about 19 inches long, similar to most of the long-range rifles in existence. He had no doubt it would be a stable shot. He admired the smooth movement of the bolt as he pulled it free, opening the chamber before he loaded a magazine of training rounds.

“Oh yeah,” he said quietly. “That’ll work just fine.”

The rifle was hefty, but not at all cumbersome. He found that he could easily hold the weapon steady by dropping to one knee. He spent a few minutes making tiny adjustments, zeroing the scope, and shifting his grip on the stock. It molded perfectly to his grip, and the butt sat comfortably enough against his shoulder. Obviously whoever had made the rifle had modified it knowing his measurements. Finally, he flicked on the targeting option on the scope and heard the faint mechanical hum as the tracking mode was activated.

Just then, he saw the new members of his platoon pouring out of the building, forming a loose gaggle in front of the double doors of the training compound. Jerik had rented the space out for the entire day, so he knew that the likelihood of being interrupted was slim. “Benji, send the team a message. Anyone who gets hit is on cleaning detail for a week.”

Benji let out a laugh at that and pulled out her mobile device. “Done. Katrina and I did an exercise like this. It was fun.”

Jerik dug out his remote to the building and locked the doors, making sure the platoon couldn’t go inside to avoid him. Then he sighted down the scope, picking a spot several inches to the left of Nicholas’ feet. “I hope I don’t make it too fun for them.”

Just then, Nicholas retrieved his mobile device, as did quite a few of the others. The confusion was all too obvious on their faces, and several of them looked around in mild confusion, wondering where he and Benji were. Grinning to himself, Jerik adjusted his angle slightly, not wanting to hit anyone outright. Then, just as Nicholas started pacing back towards the building, he fired.