The Academy

Part One: Chapter Four

I focus on my breathing, narrowing my eyes at the target about nine-hundred meters in front of me. I'm laying in the ground at the academy's gun range, surrounded by the fourteen other people in my group, under the eyes of Andrew Skipton.

At Skipton's command, I take aim and begin my fire. In my hands is a lightweight, M249 SAW. A machine gun. I have never held one of these babies up until this week. Eight weeks into the academy, they finally deemed us ready to start gun training. 

Two months have passed since I started here. This weekend, the new class will be moving in, the top class graduating. We won't be the newbies anymore, thank god for that. 

This is amazing. I think most people wouldn't be comfortable holding such power in their hands, but for me, it's an adrenaline rush. The first few days of gun training were handguns, which I've already mastered. I love showing up everyone else when it comes to aim and general knowledge about those. Glocks and Walthers are the most common types of pistols used in the FBI, and we had spent a week going over them. Today is the first day we've upgraded to heavier weapons, hence the SAW.

Counting the rounds I fire, I hit the target every single time. When I've finished, I sit up slightly, studying the target, a lot of my shots aren't in the direct center, and I shake my head. I don't care how long it takes me, I'm going to hit the bullseye every time. I quickly assume my position again and reload, changing a few things in my form, and firing until I'm out of bullets. I sit up again, more shots hit the bullseye this time, but not enough. I reload again and keep going.

I'm not the best at operating machine guns yet, clearly. But by the end of the day, I'm going to be hitting targets with this thing as well as I can hit them with a handgun. It's already late, and I'm aware of Skipton dismissing a few people who've finished. Seeing their targets though, I know I wouldn't let them go. Lacey is a few feet away from me, laser-focused on what she's doing. She's a badass, not only is she athletic like me, but she retains information from our classes faster than anyone. Lacey's not gonna quit until she's perfect either.

I don't know how much time passes or how much I'm shooting, but I switch out my target for a less abused one and resume my firing. At this point, there are only four people left, Skipton standing behind us watching.

After what feels like my hundredth attempt, I sit up and check my target. Every shot hit the bullseye. I can't keep a smile off my face now. Hell yeah, that's what I need to do.

"Well done, Prenton." Skipton's voice sounds behind me and I whip around to face him.

"Thank you, sir."

"Get some rest, tomorrow we're moving to heavier machine guns."

"Yes sir," I reply, and his face is unreadable, as always. I make my way back to my firing position, clean my stuff, and stand to watch Lacey finish her round. When she sits up, I pat her shoulder and I get a half-smile from her before I go back to our room.

It's late now, most people turned in a long time ago. So, I'm not surprised the lights are off and Liz is in bed when I enter. 

"Where have you been?" The blonde asks, light from her phone casting on her face.

"Practicing. Lacey will be in soon." 

"Practicing?"

"I've never fired machine guns before," I say as I turn on the shower and get my clothes. "I want to be the best. Tomorrow we're moving on, and getting it down today will help me tomorrow."

When I finish showering, Lacey is back and I wait for her to finish before we quickly cross through campus towards the dining hall, starving. I've never seen the place so empty before, but it doesn't surprise me, it's no rush hour. Narrowing my eyes, I spot Riley sitting at a table in the corner with another girl. Once I get my food, I head over, Lacey at my heels.