Chupa-Chupa

[MurderWeasel]

((Leander Van Vliet continued from I Didn't Really Know Him))

The round, green fruit was bigger than Leander's fist but smaller than his head, and it exploded in a shower of pulpy orange flesh when struck by the shotgun blast. The report echoed through the trees, and even as the globs spattered to the ground amidst a sprinkling of twigs and leaves, Leander was on the move.

He'd been at this for a while—felt like thirty, forty minutes. Eleven shots, plus one more just now for the even dozen. He was counting those carefully, at least. He was alternating between the shotgun and the rifle, and so far he'd only hit once with the latter, and only missed once with the former. Then again, the shots he'd been taking were wildly different; with the AWP, he'd been pushing himself, picking targets at the edge of his vision, then studying them more closely through the scope. With the shotgun, he chose closer objects, and he still took the time to aim and breathe, and the spread was enough to cushion his aim.

He was using whatever he could find as targets, but especially fruit. A cluster of bananas here, a clump of these green-orange things he didn't know the name of there. They were about the right size, blew to pieces in a satisfying fashion, and kept him alert too as he searched them out. It reminded him, in a weird way, of playing Fruit Ninja on his dad's phone when he was a little kid. It was something.

It was something to keep him from thinking about the dead boy whose weapon he now carried. It was enough to push aside the explosion of an actual skull, witnessed not so long ago when the American perished. It was sufficient to build some confidence and to let him steel himself.

Because this wasn't over. It wasn't even properly begun. And however prepared Leander was, it would be a long, messy, twisted road to walk. And it would be better if he knew how his weapons worked.

Another few shots should do it. Get the feel for the guns, but don't waste too much ammunition. Don't waste too much time. His ears were ringing a little, but he'd seen and heard no indication of anyone else nearby. After every shot, he went quiet and moved. He was being careful.

Right?

Somehow, this felt more challenging than the passive waiting had.

((Leander Van Vliet continued in Welcome to the Outside World))