With a bemused look, Richard was dragged off the sofa by an enthusiastic John, eager to test his boasted skills. "Come on, let's go to the backyard shooting range and see if your skills really live up to your bragging!"
Gianna, smiling, watched her man show a genuine interest in something, and added her encouragement, "Go with John, Rick. I'll change my clothes and join you guys shortly!"
Already planning to impress John, Richard was not about to decline the challenge. "Alright, let's go. Be careful, though—you might just drop your jaw in surprise."
Due to her man's desire to have a place to train and maintain his ability to protect her, Gianna, a wealthy heiress with resources to spare, had constructed a state-of-the-art Close Quarters Battle (CQB) shooting range on their vast estate.
Standing in the opulent shooting range, Richard once again felt a pang of envy at John's good fortune. "Damn, with such a lavish setup, you two are really feeding me a bowl of dog food here. Just watch how I'm going to dazzle you with your own shooting skills..."
Mentally grumbling about being force-fed public displays of affection, Richard watched John and Gianna approaching hand in hand, steeling himself for what was to come.
John, arriving at the range, offered with a smile, "Want me to demonstrate first?"
"Sure, let's see if the famous Baba Yaga has turned into a shrimp!" Richard retorted, still a bit irked by their excessive sweetness.
John, amused by Richard's sudden childish streak, shook his head, glanced at Gianna who was still cheerfully watching, and pumped himself up for a demonstration in the specially designed indoor shooting range.
"Watch closely, Rick. I'm going to use an automatic rifle and a pistol, targeting twenty random pop-up targets!"
Holding a SCAR rifle, John shouted, "Start!" The range, designed like a street, began popping up targets at random. John moved tactically, firing three-round bursts with precise movements.
After ten precise bursts, John discarded the now empty SCAR, letting it hang from his sling, and drew two Glock 17 pistols from under his arms, shooting alternately left and right, hitting the remaining ten targets one by one.
John's ruthless efficiency in the demonstration underscored his lethal prowess. While Richard was somewhat unfazed, Gianna was already clapping, starry-eyed.
"Twenty targets, all hit in lethal zones, time sixteen seconds..." a mechanical voice announced as John hit the last target and it echoed timely.
"Bravo!" Gianna applauded enthusiastically, hands red with effort, as John walked back, barely winded. "How was that, Rick? Did you get all that?"
Evaluating Richard's slightly bulging belly, John was internally skeptical about Richard's upcoming performance.
Noticing where John's gaze had landed and knowing he still harbored doubts, Richard took the SCAR from John, loaded a fresh magazine, and prepared himself with two Glock 17s, checking the magazines before stepping confidently to the center of the shooting range.
John, with a teasing smile, glanced at Gianna and yelled, "Start!"
In the arena, Richard's slightly greasy, portly figure moved with surprising agility, mimicking John's steps and fierce, accurate shooting, "Tat-tat-tat, tat-tat-tat." The steady bursts from the rifle filled the air.
To John, watching Richard felt like seeing a larger version of himself because Richard had indeed mastered John's shooting skills. To the observing John and Gianna, the figure aggressively hitting targets was like watching a bulked-up, extra-large version of John Wick.
Thus, Gianna, standing next to John, was also stunned by Richard's performance on the range!
Richard swiftly emptied the rifle, like John, tossed aside the emptied firearm, and with a smooth motion, pulled out the Glocks. Rapid gunfire followed, and the remaining ten targets were obliterated by thirty-four bullets.
"Twenty targets, all hit in lethal zones, time fourteen seconds…"
"Damn, did you think the system's enhancements to my physical abilities were a joke? Sure, I might look bloated, but there's been a huge change inside!" Richard thought smugly to himself as he cleared the pistols.
The range's announcement woke John from his daze, stunned by Richard's terrifying marksmanship.
"Fourteen seconds? He's better than me? Even after running out of magazine? How is that possible? His shooting is faster?"
John managed to close his mouth, which had fallen open in astonishment, as the announcement noted that Richard had fired more bullets in less time.
"What's going on with this guy? A genetic mutation?"
Witnessing a 'greasy middle-aged man' perform possibly even better than him in his prime, although in a
controlled range setting, John had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that Richard had truly surprised him today.
"How about that, John? I wasn't kidding, right? Tsk, tsk, sixteen seconds for you, but only fourteen for me, you shrimp! And you still had the nerve to scoff at the tonic I worked so hard to find for you, huh? Ungrateful!"
Richard strutted out of the shooting range, carrying the SCAR, boasting about his victory and taking a jab at John.
"You bastard..."
Watching the cheeky student he had trained, John was at a loss for words.
The ever-tactful and emotionally intelligent Gianna intervened once again, "Alright, both of you did great, Rick, impressive! Let's go back inside, it's almost lunchtime."
Richard, always respectful towards Gianna, didn't push John further but instead teased playfully, "Come on, I got my shooting skills from you, didn't I? Now that the student has surpassed the master, aren't you just jealous?"
"..." John, speechless at Richard's jabs, finally let go of his pride and his smile returned fully.
Gianna, fascinated by the complex yet close relationship between the two men, changed the subject to something lighter, "Rick, why didn't Alexis come with you?"
"Oh, she's on vacation in the Maldives with her mom. I didn't expect you two to be in New York. But they should be back soon, depending on how long you can stay!"
Chatting casually, the trio returned to the estate and enjoyed a delicious Italian meal before retreating to a more private lounge to discuss serious matters.
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