Saving People... Hunting things

Ch@pter 1

Chapter 1

Chris and Derek had decided that the humans, well Lydia and Stiles since Allison was already doing hunter work, needed to start training with traditional weapons so they weren’t liabilities in a fight. Chris was teaching them how to use a rifle today.

Correction. Chris was teaching Lydia. He thought he was teaching Stiles. Allison was practicing. But then, no one actually knew that Stiles had done this before. With good reason. He hadn’t actually given any interest in carrying a weapon beyond his bat.

Stiles sighs. “I’m doing this under protest.” But he picks up the rifle and looks out at the targets. Ten of them for himself, Lydia, and Allison.

Lydia had hit four of her targets and she was currently scribbling formulas on a piece of paper. Stiles assumes it was to help her understand trajectories and turn shooting into a mathematical problem. Which was fine and all for target practice but it wouldn’t help her in an actual life or death scenario.

Allison hits eight of her target's, missing one nearly hidden in brush and the farthest one out. She seemed pissed about only getting the bullseye on two, even though Stiles wants to point out that a bullet in a body still takes the target out, even if it isn’t an immediate kill. Allison’s bullet to the dummy’s ribs is still effective.

He thinks about telling her that really, the heart isn’t the best place to aim anyway. But they’ll probably get that anyway.

The cold metal in his hands feels good. Too good. There are reasons that Stiles doesn’t carry a gun, that he chooses to use a bat and his wits to protect him when fighting with the pack.

This feeling of power, the knowledge that he has a small amount of control over life makes him feel like Death. It’s heady and he gives a little whine of contentment as the gun settled into his hands.

The others laugh and tell him he’ll probably hit at least one target. Well, it’s good they think the noise was protesting.

From the corner of his eye, Peter gives him a sharp look, and Stiles knows that Peter understands the truth.

Chris is talking. Stiles makes a concerted effort to tune into instructions on how to use the gun and the best way to aim. He nods where he’s supposed to and eventually Chris stops and indicates that Stiles can go ahead.

Stiles raises the rifle and sights his first target. He does a slow sweep, picking out each one, memorizing the location and the angle he needs to hit it.

“Want us to move ‘em closer for ya, Stilinski?” laughs Jackson.

“Just pick one that seems easiest,” says Chris, from Stiles’ left, a few feet behind him. “Nothing wrong with missing your first time out. This is just an exercise to see which areas need more focus.”

“Placement test,” mutters Stiles and he can sense the smiles.

“Exactly.”

Stiles closes his eyes and breathes, decides his order, opens his eyes and fires into the second closest bottle. He hits it at the greatest pressure point, causing it to shatter instead of merely break.

It’s a smooth, effortless movement to adjust his aim and fire again, a split second later at the next target. A minute passes and then he’s lowering the gun and closing his eyes. “Someone take it please,” he says quietly.

Peter has the gun before the others can understand what Stiles is asking, brusquely unloading it, flipping on the safety, and placing it back on the weapons table.

Stiles waits a little bit longer before opening his eyes and turning to the pack. To say they’re shocked might be an understatement. Derek and Chris are both wide-eyed, as is Scott. Jackson looks jealous, Lydia looks like he’s a new puzzle to solve. Actually, Allison looks a bit jealous too and Stiles supposes that makes sense. Everyone thinks of Jackson as the competitive member of the pack but Allison and Erica can rival him any day of the week.

He’s kind of glad the beta trio are patrolling right now. There are enough people staring already. The only comfort is Peter, who seems to be understanding something. It should be frightening, being on common ground with Peter, but Stiles has been there for a long time and Peter is actually the only one there who’s old enough to remember more details than he should.

He’ll have to talk to Peter later.

There’s silence as Jackson and Scott bring back the targets that had bullseyes on them, checking to see how well he did. Stiles doesn’t look at any of them.

He breathes, even and deep, calming himself, reminding himself where he is, and more importantly where he isn’t. He’s settled by the time the boys return.

Chris looks sharply at Stiles when he sees the dummy, though Allison crows a little. She was only looking at the painted on target, not the full dummy.

“I knew you couldn’t be perfect. You still missed one!”

“Allison!” snaps Chris, causing her to quiet down. He turns to Stiles. “That’s a kill shot, Stiles.”

The bullet hole is straight through the face, just to the side of the dummy’s nose and at the corner of the right eye.

“Isn’t a kill shot in the forehead?” asks Jackson, genuinely curious and confused at Chris’ wary tone.

“Any shot in the head is almost guaranteed to kill the person,” agrees Chris. “But they’ll still have anywhere from a few seconds to minutes to know what’s going on. Unless you shoot the brain stem.”

“Well obviously Stiles doesn’t know that,” says Scott, glaring at Chris.

Chris glares back. “Really? Then maybe Stiles can tell me how he managed to completely miss the target, over the heart. Did you know to aim for the nose, Stiles?”

Stiles shakes his head but speaks before anyone can be indignant on his behalf. “Bones in the front of the skull are hard to penetrate without a specific type of bullet. Aiming for the nose still, creates a margin of error. The eye-sockets are the best choice because they don’t create the same level of resistance.”

“Why didn’t you tell us you could shoot?” asks Derek.

“Because I don’t like to,” answers Stiles honestly. “And it hasn’t been necessary yet.”

Lydia studies him. “So you would if we needed you? Really needed you not just if it made the fight easier?”

“Yes. You’re still my pack. If it came to it, I’d protect you any way I know how.”

That seems to release the tension in everyone. Derek and Chris call an end to training, saying they need to reevaluate the best way to go forward, now that they know Stiles doesn’t need beginner instruction.

Even Lydia is a bit above a beginner.

“You would have made a good hunter,” says Chris quietly, as he loads the last case into his SUV.

“I was a great hunter,” answers Stiles and walks away.