(A/N): My first Fusehound fanfic! Enjoy!

Bloodhound fired their P-Twenty-Twenty and missed. They growl and attempt again, missing another time. The hunter curses in their tongue before dropping to the ground to take a seat. They sigh, setting down the pistol beside them and stared up at the dummy in front of them. The wind and the sun felt great today in the firing range. It was peaceful to Bloodhound, but they just couldn't get that single shot out of their head. Revenant had toyed with them and the thought of knowing fear had engulfed their concentration had the hunter embarrassed. Artur was watching Bloodhound from the top of a weapon rack, calm and relaxed. He wasn't even bothered by the giant leviathan standing tall above him and Bloodhound. Bloodhound suddenly leans back with their hands pressed against the ground behind them and tilted up their head. They closed their eyes behind the mask and listened to the wind, trying to forget their rough match. Suddenly, the hunter heard footsteps and since Artur didn't signal for a threat, Bloodhound didn't bother to move.

"What ya' doin' out here all by ya' lonesome?" Bloodhound heard Walter ask behind them.

Bloodhound didn't want to tell him the truth. He was in the third squad; they knew he saw their failure of winning the match by one bullet.

"Training is a necessity for the Games. Care to join me, Fitzroy?" Bloodhound asked back.

"Sure! What gun ya' workin' on?"

Bloodhound hesitated on answering before quickly grabbing the pistol beside them, believing Walter might have seen it. They slid it into their leg holster and hums as the hunter decided on a different weapon.

"Why not the Kraber? One of my favorite sniper rifles. There is a target back on the ship behind this hill here that we can aim for." Bloodhound finally answered as they pointed up at the target far out in the distance.

Walter looked where they pointed at the target and chuckled.

"That doesn't seem too hard, mate!" He says before hurrying over to the Kraber rack to grab two, returning to Bloodhound to hand them one. Bloodhound stood up before grabbing the weapon.

"I like your enthusiasm." The hunter responded as they stepped away to get a view of the target while Walter followed behind.

"You don't think I'm gonna hit the target," Walter grinned.

Bloodhound softly chuckled as it was cloaked by the wind.

"I never said you wouldn't." They responded.

"Then, show me what ya got and go first!" Walter demanded and rested his shoulder up against a gun rack with a grin on his face.

Bloodhound hesitated on responding as the match swarmed back into their thoughts. They were biting down on their lip as they looked up at the target. For some reason, it seemed further than usual. The hunter sighs, readied their Kraber, took aim and fired. It took a short moment before the bullet hit the target, flipping it to red to confirm. Bloodhound sighs again, realizing they were holding their breath on that shot.

Walter whistled, impressed.

"Now, that's a shot." He says, grinning.

Bloodhound was suddenly feeling warm inside their mask as Walter stepped up for his turn. They stepped aside to give him room for his shot as Artur landed on top of their head. Walter had a smirk on his face when he aimed, but when he was seeming to take fire, Artur squawked and ruined Walter's shot. Bloodhound bit back a laugh, averting their eyes somewhere other than towards Walter.

Walter faced them and raised his hands, slapping them back down on his sides.

"Really, mate? Gotta' take sides here?" Walter said to Artur and the crow squawked back at him.

"I'm sorry for his actions, Fitzroy. I did not request for him to affect your attempt." Bloodhound told, looking back at Walter from behind their goggles.

Walter raised an eyebrow, not believing them. Though, Bloodhound hasn't lied to him once that he believes, so he decided to let the mischief slide this time.

"I don't think ya' crow likes me," Walter said, starting to grin again as he sets down his Kraber to take a seat on the ground. He spreads his legs out before reaching into his pocket and grabbed a granola bar. Bloodhound was a bit surprised it wasn't a beer bottle he was grabbing as they slowly crouched down.

Artur flew off after Bloodhound began to rest, setting their Kraber beside them on the ground.

"Artur has his reasons too, but he has grown on many. I believe he will see you through soon…I have." Bloodhound responded before removing only their helmet and not their goggles or mask. Long and black, thick hair flooded over their shoulders.

"I-uh…I can leave if ya want me to…" Walter said, but he was hesitating on standing. He wanted to see what was behind that mask. He knew he wasn't supposed to, but the mystery was bothering him.

"No need. The dusk here is thick. It would affect my breathing if I were to remove my mask." Bloodhound answered, setting their helmet beside the Kraber.

"Mind if I ask why you're hiding your identity? You a big-time criminal or somethin'?"

Bloodhound chuckled.

"Some may think I am, but I have no reason to hide my face. I must make sure my lungs are safe; I could fall into an asthma attack if I am not cautious. This mask protects my life, the googles I have worn since I can remember and upgraded as I had grown…and my helmet…" They answered before glancing down at the helmet, laying a gentle hand on top of it. "…It was my uncle's."

"Ah, ya got lots of stories to tell." Walter grinned before taking a bite of his granola bar.

"Perhaps I do. Though, I do not believe I have as many as you do." Bloodhound chuckled.

"Oh, ya will if ya hang around me more," Walter responded while going into his pants pocket and grabbed another granola bar. "Want a granola?"

Bloodhound reached over and grabbed it.

"Thank you…" They said softly as they unwrapped the bar and took a bite.

Then there was silence between the two as they munched on their bars. Bloodhound wondered if they should ask Walter about the match they were just in. Would he be harsh about their mistake?

"Oh yeah, nice try on our last match. Ya almost had Revy." Walter suddenly said, beating the hunter to the punch.

Bloodhound had swallowed the remainder of their granola bar a bit hard and winced at the pain.

"Though he beat ya, I still don't think any less of ya. Still, a kickass fighter even if you lose." Walter continued before Bloodhound could respond.

"…Thank you, Walter," Bloodhound responded, cheeks heating their mask again. Their body was no longer tense and the P-Twenty-Twenty no longer felt like a weight on their leg. "…Why don't we continue with our gun practice. Perhaps the P-Twenty-Twenty?"

"That's my worst gun, mate!" Walter laughed, raising himself back onto his feet. Bloodhound couldn't help but laugh as well.

"Mine as well. A fair challenge."

(A/N): Comment & Review! Thanks!