It was training day for some of the would-be soldiers at the United Militia Academy. Typheus, a new recruit who had yet to pass any form of weapons training, was given the opportunity to try his hand at the gun range, beginner level of course. He was given five targets to destroy with twenty rounds of ammunition in his 9mm pistol.
Typheus hoped that he could hit at least one target, as he was horrible with aiming his weapons, so, instead of focusing on all of the targets like he should have been, he was only focusing on the one right in front of him, hoping to hit it and at least get a point. The closer the buzzer got to sounding, the further and further away the target seemed to get until Typheus felt as if he was trying to shoot a tin can off of an airplane after takeoff.
The fact that the rest of the trainees had halted their firing just so they could see the entertainment wasn't helping much. Typheus was known to be a lousy shot, and he had learned that some people took bets on whether or not he actually hit anything.
The buzzer sounded, and Typheus hesitated and then to make up for it, he fired like mad, screaming as he did, closing his eyes after the first five bullets. The loud bangs told him that he was still shooting, but when the bangs stopped, he knew he would have to open his eyes and see just how much damage he did.
Unfortunately, when he opened his eyes, he saw that all he managed to do was nick the top of the target, the panic making him aim upwards. The recoil from the gun made the rest of his shots hit far above the target, into the far wall. It was a total mess for a soldier. The other trainees knew this, too, and a few of them even shouted for joy at winning their bets.
"My God! How did you miss every shot!?"
"Is this kid for real!? That HAD to have been on purpose."
"Well, we could always tell him to shoot the enemy's feet. He's sure to get a headshot!"
Typheus felt something cold behind him, and the laughter seemed to fade away. He turned, and saw Alicia, a telekinetic, standing there in her green uniform and pink hair with an angry look on her face. She took the gun from his hand and pointed to the entrance to the main complex.
On his way in, Typheus heard her taking the gun apart and examining it for flaws. Typheus knew there were no flaws in the gun. It was his fault for missing the target like an idiot. After Alicia was done examining the gun, she knew this, too.
"Disgrace," she muttered under her breath, just loud enough for Typheus to hear before he opened the door and stepped inside, into the hallways of the main complex, and away from the laughter of the trainees outside. Inside, Colonel Derick was slowly clapping his hands and Typheus just stared awkwardly at him.
"Congradufreakinlations," he said, stopping his clapping and lowering his hands to his sides. "You just scored the worst out of any trainee here at the academy. Now I hope you're going to lie to whoever inquires about it, and tell them you did it on purpose just because you like to make people laugh."
Typheus made a failed salute and said "Yes, sir."
Alicia came in the door behind Typheus, and Colonel Derick was nowhere to be seen. Alicia still had the gun in her hand and was pointing it at the back of Typheus's head.
"Do you know what time it is?" she asked him, putting the gun to the back of his head.
"No..why don't you just tell me?" he said, turning around staring Alicia in the eyes.
"It's time for you to wake the hell up and realize you're not cut out for this," she said, pulling the trigger, causing the empty gun to click and Typheus to recoil out of shock. "Go back home." She turned to leave.
"And if I don't?" Typheus asked her, staring at the back of her head.
"Then you can bet your ass you're going to die without accomplishing anything."
"Stay out of my head!" Typheus yelled at her, only to receive a slow shrug in return. This had been his worst fear, and he never told it to anyone. The only way for her to have known was to read his mind.
Typheus knew he had failed his fire-arms examination, and wouldn't be allowed to join the United Militia. It was the same thing for every effort he made. He KNEW what to do. He just didn't have the guts to do it. Everyone around him knew it, too. Soon, the rest of the trainees would come in, laughing, about how he wasn't even able to hit a single target. They would also be excited about how Alicia was able to down every target, dead center, with a single bullet.
Walking down the hall, he thought about what the fear he had read in his mind. The reason he even joined the military was because he was terrified that he would live a slow stale life never doing anything worthwhile. It seemed that his fears were being realized.
At one point, he couldn't tell exactly where, he was pulled into a side room where Derick was standing next to a man with long silver hair and a dark look on his face. He wore the most unorthodox uniform consisting of a white trench coat and silver shoes. Something Typheus had never seen any civilians wear before, let alone military officers.
The room itself was an old storage room with spare parts for many doors and devices, as well as old dusty tables that were probably moved there years ago. The whole room smelled of dust and decay. The dim light bulb at the far end of the room completed the feeling that he was in some antique collector's dream come true.
"What do you think, Valez?" Derick asked the man, who put his hand up to his chin.
"What's wrong with him?" Valez asked him. "He seems like a perfectly capable soldier."
"He can't shoot worth a damn. His physical and mental capabilities are very good, but his skills with firearms are the worst we've ever seen."
"And you want me to take this kid and turn him into a lethal killing machine?"
"You could say it like that."
"Alright," Valez said pulling out his pistol and handing it to Typheus, "Which end do the bullets come out?" Typheus looked at him for a second before pointing to the hole in the end.
"And who do you point it at?" Valez asked.
"Bad….guys?" he responded.
"Close," Valez said, taking the gun back from Typheus, "You point it at the enemy."
"Right, Derick, you owe me for this. I'm going to see what I can do, but I can't make any promises."
"Wait a minute," Typheus said, going over what Derick had said earlier. "I did horribly at my physical and mental tests. I could have worn I failed most of those tests…"
"Typheus, remember that heavy weight we had you lift that you couldn't lift more than two inches?"
"Yeah," Typheus said, remembering the vent where he only managed to lift the 80lb weight two inches off of the safety hook before giving out and replacing it. Some people gave slow claps to mock him.
"It wasn't eighty pounds. They mixed up the weight sets on yours. I'm not sure the exact weight, but when we measured it out, the scale reached five hundred pounds before it was crushed. As for your mental examinations…we caught Alicia cheating off of you. Constantly reading your mind was putting stress on you, almost like a single computer trying to do the job of two. Note the only reason we kept her is because that's what she's SUPPOSED to be doing out in the field when she acts as a spy"
"AND SHE'S BEEN RIDING ME THIS WHOLE TIME ABOT MY SHOOTING!? IM GONNA KILL HER!" Typheus shouted banging his fist on the nearby table, which started to creek and moan.
"Well, not until she defects you're not. She turns traitor and I guarantee, you'll be the first to know, but until then, you're to avoid contact with her if you're going to have that kind of mindset."
"Sorry…" Typheus muttered, leaning on the dusty table which sounded as if it was about to give way.
"Well..when's the plane leave?" Valez asked Derick, who checked his watch and nodded.
"In about 3 hours. Typheus, kiss Alicia goodbye," Typheus made a vomiting noise, "because you're not going to be back for awhile."
"Don't you think this is a bit sudden?" Typheus exclaimed, turning to Valez. "Jesus, you just got here!"
"Jesus? Do I need to shave that badly, Derick?"