The gun store's basement range wasn't particularly large—just eight shooting stalls—but the lanes were long enough for both handguns and rifles at over 20 meters.
When Owen, his mother, and Amanda entered, they saw someone already practicing.
A lone shooter, wearing safety glasses and ear protection, was firing a Glock at a steady, rhythmic pace.
To avoid disturbing him, Owen led his family to a stall further away on the inside lane.
The range echoed with sharp "pop-pop-pop" gunfire as the other shooter continued.
Owen placed three boxes of ammo on the shooting bench.
Each box contained 50 rounds, and the total cost was less than $30—cheap.
The third box was free, courtesy of the gun store owner, a classic tactic to encourage return customers.
Amanda was practically bouncing with excitement.
At her age, she had never fired a gun before, though she had been through dangerous situations—especially in Paris.
She had seen people die from gunfire, but this was the first time she would hold a gun herself.
Owen, however, wasn't about to let her waste ammo for fun.
He intended to teach her properly—because one day, she might need it.
---
He unpacked a box of ammo, loading both the standard and extended magazines before starting a lesson.
- What's the rear sight?
- Where's the front sight?
- How does the safety work?
Then he loaded a standard magazine and demonstrated.
The explanation was mainly for Amanda—since she was a complete beginner.
As for his mother, Owen wasn't worried.
She had raised two kids alone—she was far from weak.
More importantly, she was the one who suggested Owen buy his P226 back in the day.
Owen stepped up to the firing line and took a six-meter shot.
He ignored the 23-meter and 15-meter targets.
This was a pocket pistol—designed to be small and concealable, not a precision firearm.
Its accuracy couldn't compare to full-sized handguns.
"Pop... Pop... Pop... Pop... Pop... Pop..."
Owen fired steadily, but he quickly realized—six shots felt way too few.
He was used to Glocks with 17-round magazines—before he even felt warmed up, the magazine was empty.
Still, he was impressed by the LC9s.
- Instead of a traditional hammer-fired system, it used a striker-fired mechanism, making the trigger lighter.
- The accuracy was surprisingly good—comparable to standard men's service pistols.
- Overall, it was a well-designed handgun.
---
Next, Owen taught Amanda proper grip and stance.
Shooting required technique—and bad habits could lead to injury.
Even small pistols had recoil.
Some bigger handguns, if handled incorrectly, could even break a shooter's wrist.
(Like that idiot in the news who broke his hand firing a Desert Eagle...)
Owen demonstrated in slow motion:
- Right hand grips the pistol—arm fully extended.
- Left hand supports the grip—elbow downward.
- Palm stabilizes the weapon.
This was called the Weaver Stance—a popular technique among police officers.
It provided stability and recoil control, making it easier to aim.
The movements weren't complicated, and Amanda quickly imitated them.
She actually got it almost perfect on her first try.
---
"Take a few shots."
Owen swapped in the extended magazine, handed Amanda the gun, and gave her ear and eye protection.
Amanda stood at the firing line, aiming carefully.
Then—"Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop!"
Eight shots fired in seconds.
Owen pressed a button on the wall, bringing the target back.
As expected—only two bullets hit the target.
The other six rounds had completely missed.
Amanda stuck out her tongue sheepishly.
Now it was their mother's turn.
---
She took the handgun without hesitation, loaded a fresh magazine, and stepped up to the line.
Unlike Amanda, her movements were smooth and confident.
Owen immediately realized—this wasn't her first time shooting.
She ignored the Weaver Stance and instead used the Isosceles Stance—a more modern police technique.
"Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop!"
She fired with a steady rhythm.
When the target returned, every bullet had hit.
Two shots were in the 9-ring—for a six-meter target, that was an excellent score.
---
"Wow, Mom! You're like a sharpshooter!"
Amanda was immediately impressed.
Owen rolled his eyes.
He had shot all 8-ring or better earlier, and she hadn't said a word.
Still, he was relieved.
If something happened, most encounters would be within 3-4 meters.
Even half of their mother's current accuracy would be good enough in a real emergency.
Owen didn't need to ask—her skills had to be from his father.
He only had vague memories of his dad.
All his recollections were from before he was reborn into this body.
But he had spoken to his mother about him.
His father was a cop, killed in a drug bust.
Owen had inherited this body's memories and emotions, and ever since childhood, he had hated drugs.
Back in Major Crimes, he and Carlos had the highest success rate for busting drug cases.
---
"Alright, Amanda, listen to me:
1. Keep your grip steady.
2. Align the sights properly.
3. Hold your breath—and pull the trigger smoothly."
Amanda kept missing, and her confidence was dropping.
So Owen stood behind her, holding her hands to guide her aim.
Step 1...
Step 2...
Step 3...
"Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop!"
Each shot rang out crisply.
When the target came back, every bullet hit.
Even though two were near the edge, most were around the 5-ring.
A huge improvement.
---
"Wow~~~!"
Amanda cheered excitedly.
Her mother and Owen praised her.
Boosted by their encouragement and actual progress, Amanda quickly reloaded and continued practicing.
She wasn't stopping anytime soon.
---
Owen turned around—
And felt a gun press against the back of his head.
A voice whispered behind him:
"Hand over your recommendation votes… or I'll KO the main character."
_________________________
[Check out my Patreon for +200 additional chapters in all my fanfics! Only $5 per novel or $15 for all!!] [www.p@treon.com/Mutter]
For every 10 Power Stones received, I'll release an extra chapter ✨