It was Wednesday morning, his left eye was swollen and bruised from his time in the arena. But Mark couldn’t care about it, not when he was taken to his favourite place. The shooting range. Mark looked down the scope of his Remington Model 700, he was tempted to get a bullseye, but he had to contain himself. He didn’t want to break the record that easily, not yet.
Within the Order, the target wasn’t typically divided into scales of ten; instead, it was broken up into a scale of 100. The Order wanted their soldiers to be accurate, and they demanded only the best from them.
To Mark, he was glad that the Order made that system; he was even more excited to know that they kept score and tallied on who was the best marksmen throughout the other Orders.
Mark’s grip tightened, and his breath steadied. His mind drifted to the history textbook that he had spent hours reading the night before to remember how and why the Order was founded, the amount of Orders there were, and who Ser Butterfly was. Mark would never claim himself as a history type of guy, but he liked to think of himself as a maths-oriented person. He already calculated where his shot would land, the angle he needed to tilt his gun, everything.
He aimed and fired his last shot, the bullet landing directly on 71. ‘That is a total score of 471, a new record.’ The instructor announced over the sounds of everyone’s groans and frustrations. With a cocky smile, Mark turned his head to watch how his name was placed on the leaderboard again. There used to be twenty names on the board, but ever since Mark arrived, he made sure to bump his name above everyone else’s by just one point. He didn’t want to get a perfect score until the time was right, but he wanted to make sure everyone knew that he was the best sniper in the world even to the chagrin of everyone else.
While Mark walked away from his rifle and to the group of annoyed classmates who knew they couldn’t get their name on the leaderboard no matter how hard they tried. Nor did they like the thought that the average score to be deemed confident was now raised because of the former assassin.
To the range instructors, they knew what Mark was doing and how he was the only one in history to have a perfect 100% accuracy score at a 1-kilometre range with a grouping of zero millimetres if they didn’t count the one odd shot clearly designed to only break the old record by one point.
His classmates didn’t appreciate his skills, they all knew Mark was showing off and flaunting his ego at them all. Not that would stop him, he wanted to show how he was better than them and why the reptile chose him to be a part of his unit.
‘Do you have to keep doing this?’ A woman approached Mark, her short red hair shining like a fire under the artificial sun.
Mark gave her a cocky smile, ‘what can I say. I like seeing my name. It has a good ring to it, you know.’
She rolled her eyes; it was then Mark remembered her name, Maladine. ‘Sure, if that is what helps you sleep at night.’
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‘Well, if you want. I can teach you how to shoot as well as me.’ Mark said before she could walk away. Eager, she turned around with a curious grin. ‘So, do you want to learn?’
‘What is the catch?’ Maladine replied.
Mark shrugged, ‘is it bad to help a fellow student? Maybe I just like you, is that a bad thing?’
‘Mark, I doubt you just want to teach me for free. We both know you have something on your mind.’
With a mischievous grin, Mark raised his hands in a joking way. ‘Okay, I will admit. I heard rumours that you are a solid cook. So, I want to try your food out at your place. I say that is a fair trade for me teaching you.’
‘Really now?’ Maladine folded her arms with a smile, seeing through Mark’s intentions yet also intrigued by him. ‘I assume you already know where I live. I’ll meet you there around nine, perhaps?’
Mark gave her a nod, but before he could speak, they both noticed Jackson walking to Mark. Maladine gulped before she stepped away, her gaze unable to escape the short reptile and his disapproving look. Mark gave the reptile an awkward smile before he rubbed the back of his neck. ‘So, anything you need?’
Jackson blankly looked back at Mark, to any onlooker it would seem like the reptile was just staring at him. But in truth, Mark knew Jackson was deeply frustrated with him. Like a father had to constantly deal with a hormonal teenager. ‘Study?’
‘Uh… going good?’ Mark awkwardly replied, unsure what the reptile meant.
Jackson raised a brow, which made Mark felt uncomfortable since he witnessed him conveying an emotion. ‘You need to stop showing off every time you go to the range. Next time, I suspect you will do your best and not artificially break your record.’ Mark tried to respond to the reptile, but the reptile cut him off before he could utter a word. ‘Your exam is open book, make sure you head back to the barracks and grab them.’
Confused, Mark looked back at the reptile with a worried expression. ‘So, I can go to Maladine’s place and help her out?’ Jackson didn’t respond to that question; it was clear to Mark that the reptile knew what Mark was about to do more than just teach her how to shoot straight. ‘Okay, I will grab my books and such once I am done here.’ Mark mumbled at the reptile.
Satisfied, Jackson gave Mark a nod of approval before heading off to speak with the instructors. The young man sighed in relief that Jackson didn’t discipline him in front of everyone. Though he was embarrassed that he was caught fraternising with a fellow student. While Mark was left confused as to why Jackson would overlook that behaviour. In the end, Mark smiled as he wondered what else he could get away with. Knowing better, he concluded it was wise not to test Jackson’s trust in him. Even if forming certain relationships with others was frowned upon.