Bullet after bullet, target after target. I emptied the rounds in each magazine swiftly, without stop. Though as I continue firing, I sense myself slowly thinking of my aim, as if something is aiming for me. Only stopping to readjust my aim, as if I'm slowly getting consumed by the feeling of aiming at a target. As if it's a hostile enemy in front of me, as time continued, my shots became more and more precise, even as I shift my aim. The longer I stay in this position of firing I feel something, a feeling of focus and motivation, as if it's not stopping me from firing unless the magazine goes empty. Is the virus making me more accurate? This feels similar to what happened back at the warehouse, like my focus became lightspeed as the enemy was in front of me. I stopped firing and lowered my rifle, what am I feeling? This is weird. Is the virus supposed to be like this? Looking at the bag, I was only left with 2 more rifle magazines. Wait how long was I shooting? And how far did I shoot before stopping? I shook my head and lowered my gun, I felt like I was in a bizarre trance. Well I guess I should use the 2 magazines left for the rifle, it's a waste to leave them here, and it seems like the place just spawns more magazines. For one more round, i pulled out the 2 final rifle magazines to use for today. In an instant, my finger pulled on the trigger. Swiftly moving back to center target after each shot. Is this virus taking over me? The shooting continued, until the trigger gave a click. Out of ammo, one last magazine. After putting in the last mag and cocking the bolt, i concentrated. Trying to not let, whatever that was earlier take over. I aimed at a target on 1300 meters. Aiming at the center, this time with focus and concentration, I squeezed the trigger. The recoil hit my shoulder but with small force. This new stock is doing good, looking into the scope again. The bullet landed slightly to the right from the center I aimed at. I aimed with my scope, now adjusting my aim to move slightly to the left.
As I focus, I feel a pat on my right shoulder. I turned my head to see, behind me, Lennox stood with a bag on his back. He walked to a slot next to me.
"Hey Damon, I haven't seen you in the range before." Lennox started talking, from the slot next to me.
"Yeah I wanted to see my skills in shooting."
"Don't we all?" Lennox chuckles.
Should I tell him about this weird thing that's going on with me? No harm in trying I guess.
"Say Lennox, do you get like an odd sense or out of body feeling experience when fighting in the battlefield?"
"Nope, all I do is aim and shoot. Nobody does it better than me. As long as it's close range, them I'm good."
Well, I don't know what to say after that. After firing repeatedly, the marksman rifle was finally out of ammo. Time to see what this gun can do. I inserted a mag into the pistol, and placed some pistol magazines on the flat desk in front of me. Since this is a pistol, perhaps i should stick to shorter ranges. The gun range had targets every 25 meters, stretching to 2000 meters, this place is very large to have that range.
"Damon why not use the dummy back at your armory? Why go here instead?" Lennox asked, while his words being muffled by constant shooting, but still audible and understandable.
"I suppose this place has more range for my weapons."
"Hah true that." Lennox goes silent again, in all likelihood not asking for long talk and only here to shoot. I readied my pistol and pointed it at a shorter range target, one 25 meters in front of me. Pulling the trigger, recoil quickly hit my hands. Though it was more controllable and the gun didn't rise as much. I fired round after round, switching targets at different distances. It feels as if it was easier when I was under that, "trance' of sorts. After using up the magazines on the table in front of me, I look down on the bag to get more. It's odd that one person can just get a magazine of bullets. And in this amount, and even sell guns in varieties, hell not just in varieties, they probably sell them in large quantities. So much companies or even people are funding us, not only the bidders but also the manufacturers. The war economy in this place must be as strong as the civilian economy. Perhaps factories galore everywhere producing rifles in vast quantities that can supply even the biggest wars. Since Lennox came from the industrial part he must know a thing or two about it. Perhaps i can ask him about it. But not now, maybe later when we both finish. After concluding my thoughts, i started shooting again. As time continued, my aim slowly improved and so did my reflexes. This time without the trance, looking down I realize that I used up all my pistol mags as well.
As I pulled the trigger again after shooting multiple mags, all the targets fall flat down. And a loud voice from a speaker came up.
"Attention all huntsmen, the shooting range is now going under routine maintenance. Please return in 4 hours, thank you for understanding." The loud voice spoke. In an instant everyone started walking out, as they walk out i see many of them heading to one area, after some of them leave i realize that it was an industrial sized bin with a sign reading: "Empty magazine disposal."
"Damon, we should leave man." Lennox snapped his fingers at me. I stop looking at the bin and start bagging up my rifle and pistol. Lennox walks first, heading to the bin. I follow behind Lennox, guess I'll talk to him once we head out.
I walked to the bin alongside Lennox who was already throwing his empty magazines, opening my bag i grab the empty magazines, throwing them inside the bin. I threw the last magazine into the bin, looking at the bin it was almost full with empty mags of different weapons. It's unimaginable to see this much magazines be used, hell this amount being used in the shooting range and not in a battlefield.
Looking at the row of elevators, i can see Lennox walking out, in a haste i walked alongside him to talk.
"Lennox you came from the industrial part of Aregalia right?"
"Yeah why?"
"Seen many factories making guns there?"
"Oh a lot, even went inside one factory once. They got hundreds or even thousands of rifles being made and falling into these large containers."
"What about factories that create anything else other than guns?"
"Oh I saw that as well, looking back. It seems like the gun factories were separated from the other factories."
"Seems war has a large production line as well."
"What do you expect in a world where mercenary work became business and not a rarity or illegal thing?" Lennox mocked, guess he has a point.
"Yes and a very profitable business with the money we get and the amount of support we get from other companies."
"True that." Lennox replied.
"Anyways, I'm heading somewhere else. What are you gonna do now? Since the range can't be used for a couple of hours.
"I guess I'll go back to our room and put my weapons there."
"Alright, I'm gonna head out now." Lennox moves into an elevator with other mercenaries. As soon as he enters, the doors close.
I'll find one as well, i walk inside an elevator, with 3 people inside with me. I press the button that takes me to the mercenary's living quarters. As I press it, the doors shut. The room filled with awkward silence, nobody wanted to speak but instead stand holding their weapons.
The doors open to the familiar sight of the mercenary quarters floor. I stepped out and started to walk back again, the hallway was still full of small groups of mercenaries chatting with each other, while I just walked alone, with a bag carrying 2 weapons inside it. Near the door I entered inside, I walked to my room to finally put my weapons and this bag back.
Inside the armory I remove the pistol and rifle and placed them on their respectful places, then stored the empty bag back to the drawer I got it from. Wonder what to do now, perhaps just rest. A new contract is probably not coming quickly, wonder what to do now. I suppose I should rest now. Better to think when I'm not tired, with a long yawn, I concluded that I will rest first. On the bed I close my eyes. Today ends and tomorrow shall begin.