North Hollywood, Valley Shooting Range.
Martin, wearing earplugs, shouldered his AR rifle, his gaze fixed on the moving targets. He rhythmically pulled the trigger, with bullets consecutively hitting the targets, not a single shot missed.
As the gunfire ceased, Bruce glanced at the electronic display and said, "You hit all the targets, buddy, your skills have improved."
Antonio, carrying an old-fashioned Winchester rifle, came over and peered at the display, but shook his head: "Martin, you're just average."
Martin put down the gun and shrugged: "Your turn."
Antonio stepped up in front of the targets, as steady as a mountain of meat, lifted the old-fashioned rifle, and took consecutive shots at the moving targets.
With each shot, his whole body jiggled, as if dissipating all the recoil.
Antonio was round like a ball, yet his hand speed was so fast it put single lads to shame. Midway through reloading, after ten shots, even his worst shot hit the eight ring.
