Redemption ||Bucky Barnes||

8. Instinct

Bang. Bang. Bang-bang. Bang.

The sound of gunfire makes me shy away from Agent Romanoff as she fires her weapon. She hits her target spot on, like the skill is natural. I eye the bullet holes warily. At least I'm awake prior to this piece of training.

When I haven't been training with Bucky (with Agent Romanoff supervising), she's taken me on herself for target practice. I've yet to be helped by Agent Barton, but I have a feeling he's either dropped out or has become too busy. This situation which I have no clue about is really making my mentors juggle their time.

Agent Romanoff relaxes her stance slightly, lowering the gun to her side. She throws a side-glance at me, I swallow the lump down my throat.

"Don't look so scared, you wanted this," she reminds me lowly. "This is what comes with the training. If you ever want to go out in the field, you need to learn this." She sidesteps to me, holding the gun out. "Take it, it won't bite you."

I get over the fear of the gun quickly once it's in my hands. It's pretty light, a plus for me.

"The most important things when shooting are that you've got ammo and the safety is off. This is especially crucial when you need to make an escape." She points out how to check the ammo, and she even demonstrates how to load the bullets in. She also points out the safety, and how I can tell the difference if it's on or not. "Your accuracy is something you've got to learn on your own. Give it a try."

Agent Romanoff and I switch places, with me facing the targets. I exhale, get a firm grip on the gun, and raise it to be level with the targets. For some reason, an instinct comes over me. Like I know how to do this. Like I've somehow done this before. I scowl slightly, deeply confused.

How can I feel like I've shot a gun before? There's only one way to really prove it.

I fire the gun, the blasts almost instantly deafen me. My accuracy isn't awful, it's a lot more precise than I imagined. My shots are almost identical to Agent Romanoff's. My heart is racing from adrenaline.

I have no idea where I learned how to shoot like that. Clearly Vanessa forgot that tiny detail, I think irritably. I'll have to confront her later about it.

The adrenaline takes over, I fire more shots. More loud bangs echo in the room, like I'm some trigger-happy assassin. I tear more holes into the targets the more I pull the trigger. I don't realize that my stance has changed until I'm done shooting. My legs are wider apart than they were before, making me feel more rooted on the ground. My arms aren't shaking, they're perfectly still.

I look over at Agent Romanoff, who's mildly surprised.

"Nice work," she compliments me. "But you're just standing still. Moving around and moving targets are entirely different. Let's make this harder." Agent Romanoff goes to a panel on one of the walls, pressing a few buttons.

My head snaps around as the targets begin to move. The lights in the room dim, and somehow, I go into autopilot. I focus on the nearest moving target and fire, my lips twisting into a concentrated frown. There are a bunch of moving targets, some high up, others more towards kneel level for me. A challenge.

At first, I'm doing okay. The targets seem to be moving slowly through my eyes, I hit them all easily. I hear a 'humph' come out of Agent Romanoff, and before I know it, the targets are speeding up. I fire calculated, rapid shots. Granted, I miss a few—just barely—but for the most part I strike my targets.