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7
The sound of their guns rang through the stadium. Each and every time Major Nox ordered for them to fire, two loud bangs accompanied by smoke puffing from the barrels followed his command. He would allow them to load one more bullet, then barely give them time to aim before he had them firing at the next target. The light was fading, and Harley was beginning to struggle to see as her targets got further and further away from her. Some were smaller than others, some hidden beneath cutouts of people to simulate a hostage situation. The hardest were those that moved along the ground or were even shot into the air. They never knew which target would come next until they popped up. It kept her on her toes, ready for the next one.
Half way through the challenge, they began to reload once again. Harley was skilled at loading her weapon quickly, and even without needing to look. When she did so, she would sneak a glance at the Major who watched with his arms crossed, a grin on his handsome and sly face. That was normal for him. What wasn't normal, however, was right before he would call out for them to fire again, his finger would tap his arm. She looked back ahead in time to shoot at her target. "Shit!" the Captain quietly cursed from behind her. Another reload, and they fired again. "Dammit!" came another curse from Captain Dent. She lifted her brow, but there was no time to look back at him before they had to shoot at another target. She wondered if his eyesight was failing him more than her own, or if he was missing his targets. The latter was unlikely, but not impossible. He was much older than her; he could have bad eyesight and was struggling to see. The dark didn't help either.
Finally, they went after their last targets. When they fired their final shots, the two strapped their muskets around themselves and turned to look at Major Nox who was approaching them. "Collect the targets," he ordered the soldiers that had stood with him on the sidelines. As they did so, Harley spared a glance at Captain Dent. His eyes were filled to the brim with fury, with his lips squeezed into a tight line. He looked like a grenade that was about to explode. Just by his expression alone she knew he was not pleased with his performance. Perhaps that was why Nox wanted it to be so late, so it would screw up the Captain's eyesight and throw him off. And as the best shooter in the King's ranks, he couldn't use the light as an excuse. The best was supposed to be the best regardless of the time of day.
Major Nox examined the targets and spoke with the soldier that was keeping track of their reaction times to determine the winner. Once he was through, he moved to stand between them, and all three turned to face the King who was watching intently and expectantly. He was confident his Captain had won. And for a moment, Harley looked among the spectators in search of Dustin. He had promised to be in the front row, but he was nowhere to be seen. She shouldn't be surprised. He was injured really badly.
Nox began reading off the Captain's reaction times, then went on to Harley's. Hers were faster by only half a second, proving that he also had skill at pulling that trigger quickly. The Captain's expression worsened as he looked down at Harley and stared. She thought he was about to try to shoot her. She grinned and looked back at the King who was now eyeing her in amazement. "Now, on to accuracy," Major Nox announced as he pulled out Harley's targets. "The number of perfect shots for Harley Sinclair: 20/20." The crowd was silent as they were too stunned to even boo her. The men looked among themselves, their faces a mixture of anger and shock. The Major continued, "And the number of perfect shots for Captain Dent: 5/20." The crowd lost it. The men were raging and spitting insults at Harley for winning and at the Captain for losing. The King slowly sat up straight as he looked over the two with hard eyes, yet not a word came from him.
