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weapons practice

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Hot Rod walked to the blue line on the floor with all the cocky swagger his unit mates had come to expect from him. He drew his bow out of subspace with a flourish, and followed motion with a second flourish that pulled a pair of arrows from his subspace pocket as well.

"Oh, please." One of his fellow trainees scoffed. "Two arrows?"

"This'll be good," another added.

The burgandy and gold mech ignored them as their drill instructor shushed them. Then, once he knew everyone's optics were focused on him, he flicked his thumb to turn on the energy string on his bow. Then, in a motion that was almost too fast for his unit mates to see, he nocked both arrows to the string, pulled it back and fired.

The arrows flew across the room, rockets in the shafts activated by the string and propelling them as quickly as any rifle bolt. Each arrow sailed through the holographic target, both triggering the irritating screech that signaled a bulls-eye, and then thudding into the back wall of the training room.

As the cleaning drones scurried out to collect the arrows and recycle them, Hot Rod turned to his unit mates and the drill instructor. The other young mechs stared at him in surprise.

Kup gave him a small, approving smile. "That'll do, kid."