VNCA

CH. 1

"Remember kid, the moment you step on that ship, aint much me and your mom and dad and aunt can do for ya. It'll be all you."
Coby's uncle slapped his hand onto his nephew's shoulder as the sun bathed them both in the woods. Pillars of light stabbed through the canopy where they could reach between the leaves, surrounding the two in valiant rays. Coby could feel the breeze brush past him, kicking away some leaves that were starting to fall to the ground. He tucked his knees to his chest and shifted atop the rock that they were both resting on
"But hey," Coby's uncle said with a more encouraging tone this time. "I know you can do it, and I'm sure that when we get your parents and your aunt in on the plan, they'll say the same thing."
Coby smiled when he felt his uncle's elbow jab his ribs. The expression didnt last long though. It faded a bit, and Coby's bat ears wilted slightly.
"Hey c'mon Coby, what's wrong?"
The kid sighed, and let his legs rest back on the ground.
"Uncle Royce, I don't know if they'd ever change their mind about letting me go. Even after all the training you've given me, after all the stuff I've learned, what if they don't listen??"
"Then I'll make 'em listen."
Royce's arms folded over his chest and he shot Coby a cheeky grin. Coby could tell what he meant; Royce wasn't as strong as his dad, but he was cunning, and, when he wanted to be, mean. He was glad that he'd learned under his uncle.
"Now, come on, let's quit moping! Your parents haven't knocked all the spirit out of you yet, have they??" the uncle clapped his hands together excitedly. Coby shook his head as he dismounted the rock. This man's spirit was infectious!
"Good! Good, now, let's keep working. Whatcha wanna go over now?"
Coby put his finger to his chin, thinking while Royce jumped from the rock and dusted his hand over his pants.
"Draw time and target practice, together," Coby grinned with an ambitious spirit. If he was going to be the leader of his own team, he had to have that hard drive! The choice got him a gloved hand through his short, black hair.
"Good choice! Here, let's use this rock." Royce's arm draped over Coby's shoulder as they both turned to what was their seat. The bat boy chuckled a bit as Royce rested both hands to his shoulders his time.
"Alright, so remember what I taught you," he said as he pulled Coby back a few more paces from the rock. "When you shuck that gun, you gotta commit, you hear me? One fluid motion; one arm pulls, your other comes up and slaps that hammer like it owes you Lien, got it?"
Coby laughed. His uncle's humor one of the best things to help this worry. The kid took his breath in and out slowly, bent forward at the waist a few inches, parted his feet apart to his shoulders. His right hand moved over the grip of his revolver, hovering an inch over it with his fingers tensed to make the grab.
"Remember," Royce whispered to his nephew's ear. Coby felt something cold run along his spine as he took another slow breath in, then out. "Never draw first, kid. Wait for the bad guy to make the first move. Breathe. Wait for that split second they make that choice."
Coby's third breath was more quiet. He felt His whole body ride that line between fluidity and rigidity. No noise passed his ears, but he knew the rock—the other fighter, the bad guy, was still there. The moment of silence felt like a minute until he heard it.
The faint sound of metal scraping against leather filled the air from behind him, giving Coby the perfect illumination of the target. Before the young man could hear the sound end, his arm sprang down, his fingers tightened on the handle, and in one fluid snap, he sprang the gun from his leather and feathered back the hammer with his left hand. One solid, bullethole pocked the middle of the rock, chipping away a large chunk of stone in proclamation of the strike. The echos of the bark of the hand cannon came and went and a wisp of smoke trailed from the barrel as Coby held himself, his whole body rigid as he waited for any order to go again. Behind him, his uncle Royce grinned and slid his gun back into his holster.
"Good job kid, great reaction time," he said as he stood up from behind Coby.
The bat faunus smiled brightly and holstered his gun as he heard Royce walk to the rock to examine it.
"Well? How is it? Dead center?"
"Not perfect, but not bad, you're a little up and left," Royce said as he smacked where the whole was. Coby heard the echos of the smacks, and his ears wilted a bit. He was certain he had it. "Let me try again! I know I can do it!" Coby's determination got a smirk from Royce as he returned to his nephew and reclaimed his position behind him.
"Alright kid, one more time. Your draw time was great though, less than a second to get that steel pulled," Royce clapped his gloved hands with a proud smile. His encouraging words perked up the bat ears on Coby's head, and the kid took his stance again: leaned forward at the waist, hand over his gun, feet spread at the shoulders. Coby let out a long exhale, waited one second, then two, then took a shorter inhale. There it was again, that line between tense and calm. Royce said nothing this time, the only thing that came was the chilled wind that threatened Coby's concentration.
He heard it again, the sound of metal unnesting from the holster just as the chill ran his spine again. Coby's hand quickly pulled the gun and brought it to his hip.