Chapter 89: Brightvale PD
The distant echo of gunfire faded as Lukas stepped closer, his voice steady but light."Would you like to try flying targets, sir?"
Miles gave a slight nod, eyes still on the Desert Eagle in his hand."I would love to."
With a swipe across his tablet, Lukas activated the mechanism.A high-pitched whirr filled the air. A disc launched into the sky—Bang. One down.Another. Bang. Two down.Then five.Then nine.Ten.
The onlookers behind the range had stopped firing.Murmurs rippled across the space."That guy hit all ten flying targets...""Who the hell is he? Some kind of shooting athlete?"
Lukas blinked in disbelief but quickly composed himself."You are exceptionally good at it, sir. We’ll need to load more disks."
Miles tilted his head slightly, his voice calm."It’s fine, Major. Just bring me more rounds for the Desert Eagle. I’ll practice on the far targets."
Lukas gave a small nod and turned."Okay, sir."
As he walked away, a new voice floated in from behind."That was quite an aim."
Miles turned left.A woman in her late twenties stood there, pulling down her headphones around her neck. She removed her safety glasses, revealing sharp amber eyes. Her hair was tied back in a sleek ponytail, a few wisps escaping to frame her strong features. Athletic build, sun-kissed skin, and an air of quiet confidence. She wore the base training uniform, but her posture was anything but casual.
She stepped forward, extending a hand with a slight smile."Hello. I’m Jemma."
Miles met her handshake firmly, steady eyes meeting hers."Miles. Nice to meet you, Jemma. How can I help you?"
For a second, Jemma didn’t answer. Her expression changed subtly as she felt the strength in his grip.Not a regular hand. These were calloused, precise—hands that had seen war.