That day, I was able to try out all the guns he had.

First, we went through the pistols. Can't say I discovered anything new. Malu wasn't some super special ops guy, so he couldn't really teach me much, and what he could, I already knew myself. Of course, he showed me a few things, but I think I could find more information online. The pistols were a "Colt 1911," a "Glock 17," and a "PM." I couldn't say which was better; they all seemed the same, but the Glock, unlike the others, had more bullets - seventeen.

The shotgun... well, it's a shotgun, nothing more to add. An old "Winchester 1897." As far as I understand, it was produced before World Wars. I've read about it - it's also known as a trench gun. Probably leftover from the last war, like many others. Such were abandoned here or simply lost, then fell into the hands of new owners, not always law-abiding. I'm sure this one took someone's life, and not just once.

As for the assault rifles, there was an old "AK-47" from the Russian Empire and a "Type-95" from China.

There's no point talking about the AK: everyone knows it - from children to old people, anyone can shoot it - from children to old people. Some countries now produce the AK under license, but this one, old, worn, with heavy wooden handles, was made in Russia. Apparently, it belonged to one of the first produced batches and came here with the war.

I can't say anything about its Chinese brother. It looked definitely newer, probably contraband. All I could describe it was "an assault rifle you can shoot from." I hadn't read or heard about it before. However, it was lighter than the AK, and the recoil seemed weaker.

Overall, shooting from both was a somewhat unusual experience, especially with a long burst - it turned out not as easy to handle as in the movies. Practice and theory are two completely different things, after all.

But at least now I had an understanding of each weapon, how to carry it, how to shoot, how to reload. As for accuracy... I hit the target. But I'm as far from a pro as from reaching the moon by walking. I just hit the mark, and there's nothing more to explain there.

"Well, how is it? Feel the power?" Malu asked when I finished shooting with the "Type-95."

"I feel the recoil."

"Surprising, right? Turns out there's recoil," Malu flashed his teeth. Yeah, his jokes are simply divine. I wonder where I'm supposed to laugh. "Anyway, now you know how to use them, so all's good. It would've been messed up if you started loading the clip backward in the middle of a scrap."

"So, what job are we preparing for?" I asked.

"I'll tell you when I think it's necessary. Right now, I just showed you how to use the guns, nothing more. By the way, I bought the ammo out of my own pocket, so you can start thanking me now."

So that's why there were so few of them. Well, that's a pity. On the other hand, they weren't meant to let me shoot as much as I wanted but to show me how to use guns.

"Is all this yours? All these weapons?"

"No," he shook his head. "I borrowed the guns from a buddy. Will have to return them later."

Syringa was waiting for us, sitting on one of the boulders at the forest's edge. Silently observing the trees, lost in thought. During this time, she had even managed to weave a wreath out of red flowers and put it on her head. I wouldn't call her a forest lover. Syringa seemed more like a girl who enjoys nightclubs and being a drama queen. So, knowing how to weave wreaths seemed... strange for her character.

She's strange in general.

Everyone here is strange. One seems normal, but he's reckless, aggressive, and loutish. The second one is a bitch with a sharp tongue who weaves wreaths. The third one is a cheerful, ordinary guy who, with the same smile he tells jokes with, can look at a dead man.

I probably just perfectly complement them. Reasonable and quiet, but looking just slow and fat. I know what people think of me, so it's no secret to me and doesn't offend me.

"Hey, Syringa, we're about to leave," I approached her while Malu decided to shoot his pistol. As he said, to get a bit of practice while we're here. He'll probably unload all the bullets by the time we get back to the car. I wonder where he buys new ones? Weapons are banned in Manchuria, which means underground trade. But where?

I probably don't want to know about it.

"And so?" she replied without turning around. "I can still hear Malu shooting."

"Just saying that we're about to leave," I shrugged. "By the way, I didn't think you knew how to weave wreaths."

"Is this your attempt to find common ground with me? Nice try."

"Um... no, I'm not trying to find common ground with you," I thought for a moment and replied, to which she immediately turned and glared at me. "If I wanted to do that, I would have offered you to hug me."

"What?" she even turned around fully. For a moment, surprise flashed in her eyes, mixed with slight disgust and curiosity. "Why on Earth would I want hugs with you?"

"You've misunderstood. I wouldn't hug you back," I calmly replied.

"You're getting cheeky."

"I'm not cheeky, cheeky is not me. I'm soft and very warm, so it's not cold with me in the winter. That's why it's great to hug me - there's a lot of me."

"That's disgusting. You're not soft, you're fat."

"Well, of course, I'm fat. If I weren't fat, I wouldn't be soft. You could say my softness is my superpower."

"And who told you that you're very soft and pleasant to the touch?" Syringa asked skeptically.

"Two beautiful girls."

"Your Mom and grandma," she snarled.

"Wrong." It was my two sisters. "But you wouldn't understand that anyway."

"Playing the smart guy, huh? Remember, you're the newbie here. Mr. Know-it-all..." She took off her wreath with some regret, sighed, and threw it into the forest.

"If you like being in the forest so much, why don't you just come here more often?" I asked.

"I don't like it here. That's it, leave me alone, you're annoying," Syringa huffed.

I kept silent even though I had a few theories about this behavior. One of the main ones – as Alex puts it, she's chronically sexually frustrated. For once, I would agree with him on such a topic. Her inexplicable bitterness doesn't annoy me; it just slightly confuses and spoils the mood.

We fell quiet. Shots could still be heard in the quarry, dull sounds echoing around the area. In theory, we shouldn't be too audible. This quarry, as if drowned in the hillside, muffles the shots, and the forest prevents sound waves from spreading too far. You could say this is an excellent shooting range... an illegal one. Moreover, people can be shot here, and no one would hear anything, and nobody would come this way. But these are just idle thoughts.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

"Syringa, can I ask you something?"

"Shoot. I might answer, I might not," she sighed, starting to make a new wreath. Why she threw the old one away, I have no idea.

"Do you study anywhere?"

"Study? Why?"

"Well... knowledge, diploma," I got a bit confused by this question.

"I'm not talking about that! What's wrong with you? Why do you need this? Do you want to track me down to my school?"

"I didn't even have such a thought. Just curious," I shrugged.

"You're asking some strange questions. Why do you need to know this?" she squinted at me.

"Afraid I'm a rat?" I smirked faintly.

Syringa looked at me intently, then made a surprised face.

"Oh my God, it turns out you can show other facial expressions besides 'I don't give a fuck' and 'I deeply don't give a fuck'. That's simply amazing; I thought you had some problems with your head."

I wonder, would she dare to say something like this to Malu? I don't think so. And I also think that everyone is afraid of him, primarily because of his unstable psyche.

"Well, perhaps," I shrugged. "At least my guts are fine."

"Your guts... " and then Syringa caught the meaning of my words, causing her to blush deeply and turn away. "Asshole. Alright, alright, you caught me off guard. Happy now? I'm all red."

"I can easily finish you off and ask in what specific places," I replied with complete composure.

"Thank God, just on my face," she replied, more like squeezed out. But her ears were redder than the flowers in the forest before us.

"So, which school do you go to?"

"The thirteenth. The one on Hangman's, you know? The 'Asia' shopping center, where a capo from the Hassa clan was blown up three years ago."

"Mmm… yes…" I drawled, "I remember. But…" my gaze involuntarily slid to the back of her head. Apparently, she felt it and turned around. "That's a school for gifted children."

"I am gifted," Syringa immediately chimed in.

"Gifted in the opposite direction from the norm."

"Hey, wait a minute, did you just call me stupid in a veiled way?"

She even knows such words; it's amazing to hear from her, considering how she communicates.

"The thirteenth school - the one in the location you're describing it - is a school for mentally challenged and alternatively gifted people. Are you sure you're not confusing anything? Although… Wait, not the thirteenth, the thirtieth school, you mean."

"I told you just that," Syringa protested.

"You said the thirteenth."

"It doesn't matter whether it's the thirteenth or the thirtieth. Either way, I dropped out of school," she shrugged and put a new wreath on her head. This time, it was more densely decorated with flowers. "But I used to study there."

"Why did you drop out, if it's not a secret?"

"It's none of your business," she snapped. "You're really too nosy."

"Knowledge - any knowledge - is power," I shrugged.

"Only in your case, given your size, it seems to turn into fat, not power," Syringa eloquently glanced at me. "No wonder you know so much. Although I doubt anything useful is lodged in your head."

"Why so?"

"Why did you get involved in all this?" Syringa asked directly. "If you were smart, you would've stayed away from us. So, what? Money? Respect? A sense of belonging? Why the hell did you get into this?"

"Is this your way of warning me about something?"

"Just female curiosity. There are two types of people here - those who are here by choice and those out of necessity. You don't seem like someone driven by necessity."

I couldn't figure out - was she probing the ground, like a spy, to understand who I was? Someone sent her? Unlikely, because in that case, she would have been softer and either played on pity or tried to charm. So, just personal interest?

Whatever the case, I still have no desire to delve deeper. The fewer revelations, the longer the life.

"That means you're not very insightful," I shrugged. "Naturally, for the money. Just money that can be earned quickly, nothing more."

The standard answer to all questions. Although, essentially, this is the truth.

"Easy money," she snorted as if I had disappointed her. Maybe that's the case, but Syringa doesn't know all the nuances, and I don't give a damn about her opinion. "Is it worth it?"

"If I got into this, then it means it's worth it."

"So, it's worth it, you say?" she chuckled. "Well, well..."

"You talk as if you want to warn me about something," I looked at her attentively.

"You just don't seem like us," she shrugged. "You look like a good boy from a normal family who decided to prove something to someone."

"Who knows," I didn't try to convince her otherwise.

"I was against you joining us from the start," she stated.

"And has anything changed now?"

"Not a bit. I'm still against you. I think you don't fit into our gang. Not that you're a lowlife or anything. You just don't belong here."

"Oh really, thanks for your concern."

"If it weren't for Alex and the urgent need for another team member with such skills, I would have pushed to not take you. No offense."

"Sure," I nodded.

Although, if someone else were in my place, they would definitely be offended. But she was right, I don't belong here, I'm too different from them. Another thing is that whether you belong here or not doesn't matter at all. You're just here and do what you must. Neither more nor less.

"Hey, folks, we're leaving! Come over here!" Malu called us. "Stop goofing around behind my back!"

"He's so loud..." Syringa muttered and tossed the second wreath off her head.

She got up, stretched, yawned, and looked around. Then she walked over to me, saying:

"Let's check this out."

And hugged me. And it was a tight hug, the kind even some guys wouldn't give.

"Damn, you're really soft," she murmured, wrapping her arms around me. "Didn't lie, you bastard."

"I rarely lie. I usually withhold," I replied calmly. Seriously, I couldn't care less. She was hugging me, and that was it. But she was a bit... strange. As if... as if she was vibrating. As if there was a tiny motor inside her and she was vibrating, seriously. I couldn't figure out whether it was just my sense of touch being a bit off after the shooting or if it was real.

Had she not forgotten something inside herself?

"Gosh, you're like a big bear. I could just keep hugging you," she sighed. "You're so soft, and most importantly, you don't stink."

"I bathe often."

"Well, thanks at least for that, fatso."

"Hey!" Malu shouted. "Syringa, stop hugging him! You refuse to do me, but you're hugging him! Let's get out of here!"

"He's so noisy," Syringa sighed, then shouted back. "I'm coming, damn it! Why are you yelling like a madman? Can't you see I'm busy!"

"I can see you're clinging to him! Come on, hurry up! I need to get home!"

"We all need to get home! Think you're the only smart one here?!"

On the way back, the mood was a bit more cheerful. We talked more, interacted more, even Malu seemed normal, not like the sick psycho who shoots first and thinks later. And Syringa didn't seem like such a bitch. Well, she was as aggressive, but so were the rest of us, and she didn't seem so bitchy now. Or maybe I'd just gotten used to her.

As we were driving into the city, Malu brought up the job again.

"Box, listen up," he turned to me from the front passenger seat. "You really did well then, at that house. No bullshit, you cracked the safe perfectly, though I thought you wouldn't make it. I was wrong, everyone makes mistakes, my bad. But now I know you're a solid guy. We may just be street folks, but consider that I vouched for you in front of everyone, and you're my buddy. You get it?"

"Your buddy... like your underling, right?"

"Yeah, something like that. Like Syringa or Ali. We're one team: I'm accountable for them, and any questions will be directed at me. That's why we do everything together, trust each other, cover each other's asses and so on. You did well at that house, so I decided we can work with you. But I hope you won't cause any trouble."

Speaking of causing trouble, Malu should be worried, but not about me.

"Of course. No trouble. Do what I'm told, no acting on my own," I replied readily.

"Good that you got it," he nodded, pulled a phone out of his pocket, and handed it to me. It was a regular flip model. "Stay in touch and don't lose it. The phone is clean. You should always answer it, even if you're taking a dump, even if you're being killed, or even if Syringa does you..."

"HEY!"

"In any situation," Malu continued, not even paying attention to her. "It's fucking important. Always stay in touch. Miss a call, and there will be problems. I guarantee you that."

"I understand," I replied calmly, despite his threats.

"You're out of line, Malu," Syringa couldn't calm down, but she had her reasons. "Fuck, have I ever said anything like that to you?! Do you think I'm a whore? What's this 'Even if Syringa does you' crap?!"

"But you were getting cozy with him."

"Because he's soft, damn you! Very soft! But that doesn't mean I want to fuck him! So, shut your filthy mouth before I say something harsher! Why am I not allowing myself to put you down, but you just don't give a damn?!"

"Okay, okay, sorry, I got it, just calm down and don't swerve off the road," he sighed. "I blurted out something stupid, I messed up, just don't yell and drive smoothly."

"Bastard..." she snapped at him one last time, but Malu remained silent. And Syringa kept fuming with displeasure for a long time. Even when she dropped me off at the beginning of my street so they wouldn't have to drive too close, she was still fuming, glaring at Malu with hatred. Although, I doubt the guy had a conscience. He seemed to stand silent just to avoid escalating the argument further. What surprised me more was that Syringa didn't actually swerve off the road as a form of retaliation. From her face and voice, I was expecting just that.

From that very moment, I became a full-fledged part of the criminal world of Khanksk. I didn't find it pleasing at all. Moreover, I was slightly trembling inside with fear - despite the fact that, essentially, nothing had really happened yet. I was simply accepted - nothing more, but it felt as if they had announced that exams were starting tomorrow. I'd prefer to join a book club, but... my own desires were the last thing that concerned me.