To Quell the Wrath

Chapter Seven - ''Fuck FEDRA''

Note from the author: TRIGGER WARNING: Potential sexual assault

"Listen up you maggots! We need to train harder, stronger, better than ever before! The Fireflies lost the war against the FEDRA, but we will take it to their front door. There are still some factions left and we need to wipe them, and the US military out. Now, before we get started, there are rumours that there is an ex-Scar and an ex-WLF member of this team. Those rumours are true... now, hold it, hold it! Before you get your panties in a twist, none of that matters. The WLF were our allies, but right now, we are all Fireflies. It doesn't matter who you were in a past life, we are Fireflies now and we will remain as such. Anyone who has a problem with those of a past affiliation can kiss their badges goodbye and get on up out of here! They have been here for months same as you, so now's not the time to be playing 'Who's the better faction'... What you should all be focused on is who is the better soldier. Our youngest recruit will start today's Gunman Challenge... that means you, Lev... and the rest of you stand back and watch. But any of you hooligans laugh at the 13 year old's choice of weapon, you're on cleaning duty for a month! Do I make myself clear?! Now, Lev, step up to the podium and kick off The Gunman Challenge, 2039. And yes, it is ironic that Lev won't be using a gun, but he has special permission from myself and my chain of command... pipe down, you're worse than a bunch of ladies at the hair salon! Lev, take it away, boy." Sergeant Powell commands.

The Fireflies are outside and are seated in two sections. There are an equal number of seats per row and each section houses 101 soldiers, bringing the total to 202 soldiers. The officers are standing behind the final two rows of soldiers. Lev gets up from his seat, near the back, and makes his way to the end of the row. He walks down the blue carpet which separates the two sections and up to the podium the Sergeant stands on.

As he reaches it, the Sergeant hands him his bow and a quiver with nine arrows. He takes it and gulps. All eyes are watching him and the murmuring which floated around as the Sergeant was talking starts up again. He hates being put on the spot but knows that there is a chance of earning a medal if he wins the Gunman's Challenge. Being an archer, he knows he's at a disadvantage, but having refused to use a gun, this was his sacrifice. Every soldier and officer stares at Lev as he makes his way across to the steps at the far end of the stage. He notices that there is no protective barrier anywhere along the stage and wonders if this has been done deliberately to make the soldiers aware of their shots. He stands behind the white tape line and loads an arrow into his bow, resting it on the prong. Using his first three fingers on his right hand, he draws back the arrow, but ensures that the nock rests between his index and middle fingers. He pulls it to the corner of his mouth as he inhales and releases the string on his exhale. The arrow is flung forwards at a great speed, and it embeds itself into the target at the opposite end of the stage. The target is shaped like a person and the spot Lev hits is right in the head of the target. Lev decides to speed up his approach – he loads, draws, and releases in a matter of seconds and this arrow his where the heart would be. Again and again his arrows find their target – mostly around the head and heart of the 'man' – until all 9 are used up. He lowers his bow and waits for the next instruction.

"Go get your target, add up your scores." Sergeant Powell commands.

Lev strides quietly towards the target and finds he's too short to pull it off the clips. One of the officers pulls a string and it is lowered down. Lev unhooks it and counts.

"I have five headshots and four around where the heart would be. So, total headcount score is uh... three in the ten zone and two in the nine zone, so 48. And the other four comes to... two sevens and two eights, making that, uh, 30."

"So, Lev's total score is 78. Who's gonna beat that?" Sergeant Powell asks, and the din of conversation rises. Lev hands back his bow and heads towards his seat. "Right, now Lev's set the score, let's do this properly. We're gonna go down my list in alphabetical order and when I call your name, I want you to take your pistol and use that. This afternoon we will move onto rifles and tomorrow we will move on to assault weapons. Right, so, Abe Mark."