The training field is a mess of churned mud and splintered wooden dummies. The morning air is thick with the scent of damp earth and the metallic tang of unwashed gear. Seth stands in the center of the yard, his boots sinking into the muck as he stares at the crooked, target-practice dummies.
Seth
I need to focus. If I can't master this weapon one-handed, the Saviors will put me down the moment they see me.
A rhythmic thudding catches his ear. Looking toward the gate, Seth sees Miller walking toward him, carrying a heavy crate of scrap metal and bolts for the wall repairs.
Miller
Seth, you need to take a breath. You are going to burn yourself out before the sun even fully rises.
Seth
Rest is a luxury we don't have, Miller. If the Saviors breach that gate again, I need to be better than I was yesterday.
Seth levels his heavy-frame revolver at a dummy fifty yards away, his jaw tight as he tries to steady his aim with his remaining hand.
“Miller then says we're working on the gate it's a lot better but it's gonna take a day or two as I say okay good and continue training”
SUCCESS (Superb Firearms, rolled +1)
Miller
The gate is holding for now, but those reinforcing beams are still loose. It is going to take a day or two of hard work to get it properly set.
Seth
Okay, good. Keep at it. I need to be here until I can hit this target blindfolded.
Seth exhales, steadying his breathing. He squeezes the trigger. The heavy frame of the revolver bucks in his grip, but the recoil is perfectly managed. The report echoes across the field, followed immediately by the dull, satisfying thud of lead striking wood center-mass. The dummy’s head kicks back, splintering under the precision shot.
Seth
My aim is still there. My body remembers, even if I have to compensate for the missing stability. I just need to turn this muscle memory into something I can rely on when things get loud.
Seth cycles the action, already tracking his next target with a calm, predatory focus.