Page 23 of Specter Bred

Hayes accepted it with a confused look.

"Again," Graves barked.

The crowd quieted.

Most recruits had struggled to hit the fifteen hundred-yard target once. Hayes had just hit it five times. Still, he simply shrugged and dropped back into position.

The rifle cracked.

Ping.

A few heads snapped toward the target.

The second shot followed.

Ping.

Then the third.

Ping.

Three shots.

Three hits.

At fifteen hundred yards.

With a different rifle.

The crowd erupted into disbelief.

"No fucking way."

"That's impossible."

"How can the beta shoot like that?"

"What the fuck?"

Graves ignored every word. He took the rifle back, walked to the rack, and returned with a third.

"Again," he ordered.

Even Hayes blinked, but he got into position behind the rifle anyway.

This time, several recruits started laughing. Not because they thought Hayes would miss, but because they were beginning to realize he probably wouldn't.

Hayes scratched the back of his neck and smiled. "If you insist, sir."

The first shot struck steel.

Then the second.

Then the third.

Ping. Ping. Ping.

By the end, the entire range had abandoned any pretense of conversation. Every recruit stood staring at Hayes as if he'd grown a second head. Even Graves looked different.