2024 PARIS OLYMPICS ONE SHOTS

No Armour

So I'm going back to school tomorrow😭. This is the last update (unless u have requests). Basically, its the one Turkish shooter who wears no gear and yet can still hit the bulls eye of the target. sorry if none of that made sense.

"Shoot the gun, Yusuf."

My fathers gruff voice sounds from behind me, encouraging me to shoot the rabbit. My hands shake involuntarily and tears spring from my eyes. I have to shoot the animal, I think to myself. It's not a human.

"Yusuf!" My father bellows. While I am able to shoot a target without flinching, I just can't bring myself to shoot an animal. If I shoot it, that means it's dead. And that I've murdered something.

I look away, unable to see the life leave the creatures eyes and I shoot. The gunshot rings through the trees, harmonizing with the innocent screech leaving the rabbits mouth.

I drop the gun and sink to my knees, not caring about what trouble I will get in with my father.

"Get up, boy," My father commands with a disgusted tone to his voice. I hear him mumble a few words, most likely about how I bring our family to shame.

Ever since I could move my hands, a gun of sorts has been in them. I come from a generation of sharpshooters, all of whom sell their kills at the market. If I can't learn to shoot animals, my family will go hungry.

My father is old, old enough to where he makes me, a child who has yet to reach the age of ten, hunt all the animals we sell while he leans against his cane to chastise me for every wrong action I make.

"Now Yusuf, go get the animal and we'll bring it back to the house for your mother to prepare."

I do as he tells me, not wanting to be punished. The animals is limp, but it doesn't smell dead yet. I grab it by the feet and throw it over my shoulder.

I turn around, expecting my father to be leaning against a tree with a frown on his face, but instead he is on the forest floor, blood flowing out of his skull.

"Father!" I cry, choking on a sob. I check his pulse, hoping for even the weakest beat, but nothing is there.

"He's dead, child," A voice informs. I whip my head in every direction, hoping to catch a glimpse of my fathers murderer. A leaf crunches, and I turn towards the sound. Standing on a bed of fallen leaves is a man with a small gun in this right hand. He wears all black, but I see a wisp of blond hair peeking out from under his cap. I don't recognize the man, but he looks like he recognizes me.

"You shoot well, child." He drawls, stepping closer to me. Shivers run up my spine along with horror. He's going to kill me.

The man keeps walking until he is three feet away from me. I'm still crouched on the ground by my father, defenceless. I spot my gun a few feet away, but the man spots it too. He briskly walks over it, then stomps on it with his boot. He crushes the ammunition tank, (no idea what its called I made that up) making the gun unusable.

"I'm not going to kill you, little friend." He assures, all though his tone isn't very assuring.

"Wha- what are you going to d-do," I manage to croak.

"You have a real talent with the gun. I want you to come with me. You will be fed and clothed with a roof over your head. I will promise you safety, and you will never have to kill another creature again."

His offer was to good to be true. This man just killed my father, and now he's asking me to come live with him, to be his "son"?

"What will I do for you?" I ask, genuinely curious as to what I will have to do.

"I lead a group of performers. We travel from town to town, showing off our different talents. We don't have a sharpshooter, and I have been watching you. We want you."

I look at the man through my tears. I have no choice but go with him, or he'll kill me. I nod my head.

A smile spreads across his face. He crouched down to my level, then speaks the next few words that changed my life forever.

"You can call me Master Snape." (HAHAHAHAHA)

-

BOOM!

The shot rings through the stadium, startling me out of my thoughts. My brain is a storm when I shoot. I never know what's happening on the outside.

"There goes Yusuf with another bulls eye! Can you believe that this man went from the Circus to the Olympics?"

When the announcer mentioned the circus, memories flood into my brain of my teenage years performing for audiences of children, cotton candy in their hands.

That was over thirty years ago, but the memories are as fresh as ever.

-

"Why do I have to take out the trash every night?" I complain to Mag, the "cook" of the food here.

"You're the youngest," her gruff voice responds.

With a sigh, I trudge towards the dumpsters with heavy garbage bags over my shoulders. "I'm fifteen," I mumble to myself as I throw the bags in the dumpster.

"Still the youngest," A deep voice declares behind me. It's Snape, here to torment me some more.

He steps closer to me, until we are a breath apart and my back is against the dumpster. In his hands is a gun. He always carries the same rifle around, although I've only ever seen him shoot it the day he killed me father. I doubt it's even loaded.

"Shoot me." He commands.

"Excuse me, sir." I must have misheard him. He probably said "show me". Yes, that's right!

"You heard me, boy. Do it. I have no need to live longer. I trust you to make it painless." He put the gun in my hands, then closed my fingers around it. He then brought the gun to his temple, gently pressing against my finger touching the trigger.

I'm shaking, no knowing what to do. My breath came in short rasps. If I killed him, I would get vengeance for my father. But I'll also be a murderer.

"Do it!" Snape yelled. I felt threatened, like he would turn the gun on me if I didn't shoot. I put pressure on the trigger. I felt the warm metal work its way through me as the bullet rang out, killing him instantly.

What did I do? I killed a man, a crime I can get put in jail for! Without hesitation I sprinted far, far away. Far enough to not be suspected, but never far enough from the murder in myself.

In the years to come, I would remember that night. I would never forget. Even as I was placed in an orphanage, I would still be a murderer, even after performing my talent on the streets, I would still be a murderer.

Even after making it to the Olympics, I would still. Be. A. Murderer.

OMG I LOVE THIS ONE. it was so fun to write, and really all the INE shots were building up to this. If ur reading this, thank you SO MUCH for reading my god awful one shots. Don't forget to rate and leave a comment on your favorite parts.

BYE!!!