The next morning and after a quick breakfast, Apollo leads me to the back of the speeder, his movements precise and methodical. As he opens the back compartment, I'm greeted by a collection of weapons that I've never seen before, each one seemingly more dangerous and fascinating than the last.

  The first thing I notice is a massive weapon that dominates nearly a quarter of the space. It's a heavy piece of equipment, with a cylindrical body that looks like it could unleash a storm of energy. The barrel is thick, with multiple small openings that suggest it could spin, and it seems built to deliver overwhelming firepower. I can only imagine the devastation it could cause in battle—this must be for taking down entire squads, or perhaps something even larger. I can almost hear it humming with restrained energy.

  Next, my eyes are drawn to a sleek, long-barreled weapon. It's slender, almost elegant, with a precise, streamlined design that makes it look like it could strike targets from incredible distances. The barrel is longer than any of the other weapons, with a stock that looks adjustable for added comfort and accuracy. It feels like a sharpshooter's weapon, built for precision and deadly accuracy. I imagine it in the hands of a patient, calm marksman, picking off enemies from afar with a single, lethal shot.

  Nearby, there's a bulkier weapon that looks like it could be devastating at close range. It has a wide, stubby barrel that seems designed to spread its energy in a wide arc, rather than focusing on a single point. It looks rugged and practical, built for close-quarters combat where precision is less important than sheer stopping power. I can almost feel the concussive force it would generate when fired, scattering enemies like leaves in a storm.

  Then I spot something a little more conventional-looking, but still intimidating. This weapon has a solid, dependable design, with a balanced feel that suggests it's built for reliability and ease of use. The body is angular, with a sturdy grip and a barrel that's shorter than the sniper weapon but longer than the blaster with the stubby barrel. It looks like the kind of weapon you'd want in a variety of combat situations—versatile and effective, whether you're facing a single opponent or a group. I can see why someone would trust their life to it.

  Nearby, another rifle catches my eye. It's similar in size to the previous one but has a more rugged, almost industrial look to it. The body is heavier, with reinforced plating and a grip that seems designed for rough handling. This one feels like it's made for harsher environments, where reliability under extreme conditions is more important than anything else. I imagine it in the hands of a soldier trudging through a battlefield, its sturdy design withstanding everything thrown at it.

  A smaller, more compact rifle sits beside it, with a sleeker design that suggests agility and speed. The body is more streamlined, with fewer protrusions and a smoother finish. It's clearly meant for someone who needs to move quickly, perhaps in urban environments or tight spaces. The design suggests it's made for rapid, controlled bursts of fire, allowing the wielder to take down enemies swiftly before moving on to the next target.

  Then I see a pistol that's different from the others. It's compact, but its design is heavy, almost bulky for its size. The grip looks solid, made for someone who needs a reliable sidearm in tight situations. It's less about elegance and more about raw stopping power. I can feel the weight of it just by looking, imagining the punch it must deliver with each shot.

  My eyes are then drawn to a weapon that seems to stand out from the rest. It's small, almost unassuming, but there's something about its design that suggests it's far more dangerous than it appears. The body is sleek, with a polished finish and a grip that looks both comfortable and precise. It feels like the kind of weapon someone might keep hidden, only to reveal at the last moment when it's needed most. Its compact design belies its potential for lethality.

  Another pistol catches my attention next, this one heavier and more imposing. The grip is thick, with a reinforced design that suggests it's built to handle high-energy blasts. It's a weapon for someone who needs serious firepower in a compact package. The barrel is thicker than the others, hinting at the destructive energy it can unleash. It feels like a sidearm for someone who wants to ensure that their shots count, no matter the situation.

  Finally, my gaze settles on two pistols that seem almost identical, save for their grips. One has a taped grip, rough and utilitarian, while the other has a wooden grip, smooth and polished. The design of these pistols is elegant yet deadly, with clean lines and a balanced feel that makes them look like an extension of the user's hand. They're compact but clearly powerful, with a design that suggests they're made for quick draw and precision. I can't help but feel drawn to them, especially the one with the wooden grip. There's something about its design that speaks to me—perhaps it's the blend of practicality and style, or the way it feels like it could be a natural fit in my hand.

  Without thinking, I reach out and pick them up, feeling the weight of them in my hands. They're lighter than I expected, but they feel sturdy, like they were made to be used. The balance is perfect, and I can't help but imagine what it would be like to fire them, to feel the recoil and see the energy bolts fly from the barrel.

  These... these feel right.

  I lift the two pistols, feeling their weight in my hands, my fingers instinctively finding the triggers. Suddenly, Apollo's voice cuts through the air, calm but firm.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  "Do not place your fingers on the triggers unless you intend to fire," he says, and I immediately pull my fingers away, a bit embarrassed by the mistake.

  "Sorry," I mumble, shifting my grip to hold the pistols more securely without touching the triggers.

  "You're taking two?" Talia asks, standing near the speeder with Nikko by her side, her eyebrow raised slightly.

  "Is that okay?" I glance over at Ryu, who is sitting cross-legged in a meditative position, his attention clearly elsewhere. He seems lost in his own thoughts, his presence almost otherworldly as he focuses on something I can't quite comprehend.

  "I see no reason why not," Talia replies, a small smile on her lips.

  "LW-896," Apollo states, his voice mechanical yet precise.

  "El Double-you what?" I ask, completely thrown off by the term.

  "It's the brand of the weapons you've chosen," Apollo explains. "LW-896. Light and compact, designed for versatility and quick handling. Are these the blasters you wish to use?"

  I nod, the pistols feeling almost like an extension of my hands. "These feel right."

  ?????

  Apollo nods in acknowledgment and gestures for us to follow him. I carefully holster each blaster into the side pockets of my belt and trail behind him, with Talia and Nikko right behind me. He leads us out of the cave and into a small clearing surrounded by tall trees, their trunks thick and ancient, providing a natural shooting range.

  Using his sword, Apollo carves a target into the trunk of one of the trees, the lines sharp and precise. He moves on to two other trees, repeating the process until we have three makeshift targets set up.

  "Ready to do some shooting?" Talia asks, drawing her own blaster. It's a sleek, compact weapon with a design that's both elegant and functional. The body is smooth, with a matte finish, and the grip looks like it's been molded perfectly to her hand. It's smaller than the ones I picked, but it has an air of reliability and precision.

  Nikko pulls out her own blaster, which is even more compact, almost petite in comparison. Its design is rugged, with a sturdy grip and a shorter barrel, making it look like it's built for quick, close-range shots. Despite its size, there's a certain power to it that I can't ignore.

  Apollo stands behind me, positioning himself to guide my first lesson in using these strange new weapons. "Hold your stance firm, feet shoulder-width apart," he instructs, his voice steady. "Align the sights with the target, and remember to control your breathing."

  I follow his instructions, adjusting my stance and aiming at the target. My hands feel a bit shaky, but I manage to steady them as I line up the shot.

  "When you're ready, gently squeeze the trigger," Apollo says.

  I take a deep breath and pull the trigger. A sharp, high-pitched sound cuts through the air as a red bolt of energy streaks from the barrel, illuminating the area around me with a crimson glow. The bolt strikes the tree near the center of the target, leaving a small, smoldering scorch mark on the trunk.

  I blink in surprise, the shot startling me more than I expected. Talia and Nikko both look impressed, their eyes wide as they glance at the tree.

  "Did I do poorly?" I ask, unsure of what to expect.

  Apollo shakes his head. "Not at all. The center of the target is precisely where you want to hit. Aim for it again."

  Encouraged, I take another shot, this time more confidently. The red bolt again lights up the area as it flies straight to the target, landing close to my first shot near the center. The tree trunk sizzles where the bolts have struck, smoke curling up from the charred wood.

  "Not bad for a first-timer," Apollo remarks.

  "Thanks," I reply, a smile tugging at my lips.

  Talia and Nikko step up to take their shots. Talia's blue bolt of energy hits the far edge of the target, leaving a faint scorch mark that contrasts sharply with the red of my own shots. Nikko's bolts are red like mine, but they land closer to the center, though not as consistently.

  I watch them as they fire, feeling a strange mix of emotions. I'm relieved that I'm doing well, but also curious as to how I'm able to hit the target with such accuracy. Talia glances over at me and scoffs lightly, a sound that's hard to read.

  As we continue practicing, I start to feel more comfortable with each shot. The pistols feel more and more like a natural extension of my hands, and soon I'm firing both of them simultaneously, each shot landing dead center on the targets. The red bolts fly in quick succession, and I can't help but marvel at how precise and controlled they are.

  Talia watches me, her head tilted slightly, an eyebrow raised in an expression somewhere between curiosity and mild annoyance. "How do you do that?" she asks, her voice edged with a mix of intrigue and... something else.

  "Do what?" I ask, lowering the pistols, the barrels still faintly smoking as the sharp scent of scorched wood from the practice targets lingers in the air.

  "Shoot so well," Talia says, her eyes narrowing as she studies me. "You've never fired a weapon before—not even a crossbow?"

  I shake my head, glancing down at the pistols in my hands, feeling a strange mix of pride and disbelief at my own aim. "No, never," I reply, trying to suppress a smile.

  Talia nods slowly, but I catch a glint of something in her expression, a slight tightening around her mouth. There's a hint of jealousy there, masked by her composed demeanor. She crosses her arms, looking at the charred marks on the target I just hit.

  Meanwhile, Nikko practically bounces with excitement beside me, her ears twitching eagerly. "You're a very good shooter, Rebecca!" she says, her eyes wide with admiration, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm.

  I smile warmly at her, the pride in her innocent, joyful gaze infectious. "Thank you, Nikko," I say, feeling a surprising warmth in my chest. Her enthusiasm feels like a little beacon of light, cutting through the tension that lingers in the air between Talia and me.

  Talia uncrosses her arms, sighing slightly as she gives me a half-smile, almost as if to brush away her own reaction. "Guess you just have a natural talent," she mutters, though I can tell she's trying to be genuine.

  I shrug, a slight blush creeping up as I glance back at the targets, unable to believe my own luck—or skill, if that's what it is. "Maybe... beginner's luck?"

  Nikko giggles and claps her hands. "I don't think it's just luck," she insists, her voice cheerful. "I think you're just a really good shooter, Rebecca!"

  Talia gives a light chuckle, finally shaking off her own reservations. "Well, let's hope that luck of yours holds," she says with a playful smirk, though the edge of competition still lingers in her eyes.

  Apollo then steps in to teach me about proper weapon maintenance, going over how to take apart the blasters, clean them, and keep them in top condition. I listen carefully, absorbing the information, even if I don't completely understand everything. It's clear that there's more to these weapons than meets the eye.