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Target Practice

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Anti let loose the throwing knife and it gave a heavy thunk as it landed into the target. 

Eric’s eyes widened. “Woah!”

A grin from Yan. “Yup. I prefer throwing axes, myself, but a knife is fun. Here, use one of these,”

They handed him a throwing knife, pointing out the handle and general shape.

“These’re made specifically for this. You could throw practically any knife and it would do some damage with a bit of practice, but these are great because that’s what they’re made for and they won’t catch your hand or anything. Ya wanna show him the ropes, Anti?”

Anti grinned, glitching a knife into his hand. “H̸e̸l̸l̴ ̶y̶e̴a̵h̸.̵ ̸A̷l̶r̷i̷g̸h̵t̷,̵ ̷t̴h̷e̶r̴e̷’̴s̵ ̸t̵w̶o̴ ̷m̶a̴i̴n̵ ̶w̶a̶y̷s̴ ̷t̸o̶ ̴d̴o̸ ̷t̴h̴i̷s̵.̴ ̶S̴p̴i̵n̷ ̶o̸r̷ ̷n̴o̶ ̴s̸p̷i̵n̶.̶ ̶I̷ ̵l̸i̶k̵e̶ ̶t̸h̵e̷ ̶s̴p̸i̴n̴ ̶b̸e̷c̸a̸u̶s̵e̷ ̸i̶t̷ ̵l̸o̴o̴k̷s̷ ̷c̷o̷o̸l̸,̵ ̷b̶u̸t̵ ̶t̴h̸e̶ ̶n̴o̸ ̶s̷p̷i̵n̵ ̴i̴s̵ ̵a̵l̸w̸a̵y̴s̷ ̶g̸o̴o̶d̵.̵ ̵A̷l̶r̵i̴g̵h̷t̴,̶ ̵t̸h̸r̴o̵w̵ ̶t̶h̷e̷ ̵k̸n̶i̴f̵e̴,̴ ̸a̶n̴d̵ ̷l̶e̷t̵ ̸i̸t̷ ̵s̴l̵i̸p̶ ̴o̷u̶t̵ ̴o̶f̷ ̵y̴o̸u̸r̸ ̷h̴a̷n̸d̵…̶ ̵e̸h̵,̷ ̷a̴b̸o̷u̶t̶ ̵h̵e̶r̶e̸.̵”

Eric nodded, and stuck out his tongue in concentration as he threw the knife. 

It didn’t even make it to the board. 

But it did stick out of the floor nicely enough. 

Bim clapped politely from his spot watching with Stabby in the corner. 

“G̴o̵o̶d̶.̷ ̴J̵u̴s̸t̵ ̷p̵u̵t̷ ̴a̶ ̴b̸i̴t̵ ̸m̸o̸r̷e̶ ̷f̴o̴r̸c̷e̶ ̷b̸e̴h̴i̵n̷d̶ ̶i̶t̵.̷ ̷A̶g̵a̸i̸n̴.”

He threw again. It missed the target, but did manage to get into the wall. 

Anti glitched it back into his hand. 

“G̴o̶o̷d̸.̸ ̶A̸g̸a̴i̵n̵.̴”

The thunks of the knife hitting the wall continued for a long time.

 

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People tended to forget after a time that Wilford, with his goofiness and his love of candy, was rather deadly. William almost more so, with his more serious nature. 

Dark didn’t forget after the one time he watched them doing target practice in the training room, but he seemed to be the exception. 

“Wanna have a shooting competition?”

This was suggested off-handedly, with a grin. 

Bing laughed. “Yeah, a shooting competition against the man who can’t miss. I wouldn’t take that.”

Wilford looked up from his book. “A what?” Sue him, he’d been distracted. 

“A shooting competition.”

William was very excited. He remembered doing these in the army to pass the time- oh that was simply delightful-

He was so enthusiastic that he took the floor without meaning to. “Oh that would be delightful!”

Chase floundered for a moment at his seemingly random bout of enthusiasm. 

“Okay- uh- sure. Does later this afternoon work for you?”

 

----------

 

A series of targets were set up in the training room. 

William carefully examined his gun. 

Well, technically Wilford had made it, but he’d made it for him. 

The 67 Viking wasn’t very modern, but he liked it anyway. 

That, and he was used to it. 

Both of them were. 

Wilford had his own- it was gold-coloured, with a pearl handle. 

He liked his. It was simple. 

Chase grabbed one of the guns off the wall, not bothering to look at it at all. 

Well, if he couldn’t miss then…

He’d have to work just that much harder, huh?

A small smile twitched at the corners of his lips. 

He did so love a challenge.

“Wanna have a few practice shots?”

He thought for a minute, then shook his head. 

He didn’t think he’d need a warm-up. He’d practiced mere hours before, after all.

Chase lined up his gun and fired three shots. 

Bullseyes, all three. Spaced evenly along the red circle.

Chase spun the gun, grinning, before fumbling and dropping it with a muffled curse. 

He chortled before stretching out his neck and shoulders, lining up his gun to the second, pristine target. 

These tended to go a bit to the left…

He inhaled-

And fired. 

Right in the middle. 

Chase whistled, low and long. 

He blocked it out, focusing and firing again. 

If you didn’t know that there had been two shots, the single hole would have made you think otherwise. 

Chase’s smile dropped a bit from his face. 

He fired a third time. 

Dead. Fucking. Centre. 

Chase clapped, bringing him to reality. 

“Daaaaamn dude, I didn’t know you could shoot that well!”

He- they had been soldiers. What did he expect? 

Oh. Wilford hadn’t shared that information.

Their loss. 

He holdstered the gun with a small grin and a shrug. “It’s fun. Want lunch?”

Chase brightened. “Sure!”

They went off, chattering about what they should eat. 

Grilled cheese and tomato soup sounded good. 

 

---------

 

Eirc was walking out of the kitchen with a snack when he ran into something large and rather fuzzy. 

He looked up to see a slightly skeletal bear with unnaturally glowing green eyes. He screamed.

WeeJa popped out of nowhere and shushed him. 

“SHHH! It’s alright! This is Michelle! She’s harmless!”

It was at this point he noticed that said bear had a jeweled collar around her neck. 

“Why do you have a bear?!” He whisper-yelled. 

“I made her! Now shhhh-! I’m trying to sneak her into our wing-”

A cleared throat broke through their hushed conversation. 

WeeJa slowly spun around on his heel to see Host. 

“Heeeeeey Host! Fancy seeing you here!”

“WeeJa is in the dining room, it is not too strange for the Host to be here.”

“That is true, that is true. I’m just going to-”

He hurriedly starting pushing Michelle out of the door and down the hall, a forced smile on his face. 

They watched him leave, Eric with a series of confused blinks, and Host with his usual calm demeanor. 

“The Host wonders if WeeJa truly wishes to assemble an undead menagerie.”

Nobody would be surprised if that was the case. 

And with that he left towards the kitchen to grab a plum. 

Eric stared after him, rather stunned with what had just occurred. 

What- who- why- 

What had he gotten himself into? He wasn’t complaining but…

Damn.