Archery for beginners [TTRPG bluebooking]
CW: slurs, toxic masculinity ATTENTION: use of slurs here is purely for shaping characters as a total waste of oxygen and space. As an author I paint it in a very negative light.
The air at the outskirts was clearer. Probably it's an illusion, since Al spent about an hour in a dusty old car, where breathing felt more like a chore.
Even though Al was happy to finally step outside, he noticed that the old shooting gallery wasn't looking welcoming. It felt as though he was meant to be a moving target. Knowing his father, this scenario could be quite a possibility.
At least they are not alone here. Father's friend, Uncle Herman, joined them. Al wasn't fond of dad's drinking buddies, but Herman wasn't that bad, and he knew Siegbert long before he turned to alcohol and drugs. They served in the military together and later teamed up as solos.
Herman never joined the others in beating Al, and sometimes he even stopped them from doing something… something Al didn't even want to imagine or talk about. He definitely wasn't a saint, but there was still something human inside of him.
"Excited, are we?" Herman stepped out of the car. The man resembled a bear in size, and his heavy bushy eyebrows and thick beard enhanced his bear-like appearance. He wasn't as fit as Siegbert, but Al knew that Herman is a damn strong brawler and he is not shy of kicking some asses every now and then.
"I don't know what it is all about, to be honest." Al replied.
"Oh, so dad didn't tell you? I must be ruining the surprise!" Herman gave a barking laugh. "He's going to teach you how to shoot things. And not with that pussy gun that aims instead of you, but with a crossbow. Siegbert is an excellent shooter, so watch and listen closely."
"Do not waste your breath on him, Herman. He is not going to do good, but I feel generous today, so consider yourself lucky, loser."
Al always felt small in father's presence. He was the same towering height as Herman but broad-shouldered, well-built, and athletic. It seemed that he was a statue made of stone: every angular shape is perfect and still. And his bright blue eyes were always still too. Lifeless, piercing, cold.
Unlike Herman, he wasn't human anymore.
"Oh, come on, Z! Boys are eager to learn when they know it's something badass!"
"He is fourteen. He should have already understood that self-defense is important. But he is not as bright as his brother; no wonder he is clueless." Siegbert turned his dead gaze to Al. "Follow me."
Al never considered a crossbow a viable option. Nowadays "pussy guns" do much more damage and have more options to increase lethality. Arrows and bolts look like they're from the Stone Age, and the crossbow is huge, heavy, and can't be concealed, but nobody asked his opinion. If father survived that long by using this excuse of a weapon, maybe there's some hidden potential Al was unaware of. In the end, every skill is a good one.
"You probably think that this is not the best choice of ranged weapon, don't you?" Siegbert asked as if he read his thoughts. "I am not surprised, considering how dumb you are. Let me enlighten you. A crossbow can be a very nasty weapon. Nobody likes bolts sticking from them, but removing the bolt is painful; it takes time and exhausts your enemy. If your enemy is as stupid as you are, they may end up with excessive bleeding. Unlike bullets, bolts can be enhanced with poison, biotoxin, incendiary mix, or sleeping mix. If used properly, it gives you an incredible advantage. But it is obviously more than your chicken brain can apprehend. I doubt that you will ever use the knowledge I am so generously sharing today. But if you ever do, I am sure you will thank me."
They reached the position. Al could see a few targets, but they mixed with the surroundings, so finding every single one of them was challenging. He was so busy finding targets beforehand that he didn't even notice the rapid, almost mechanical movements near him, ending up with the loud whistle of the bolt. It landed precisely at the center of the target.
"What were you doing, if I may ask?" Siegbert's voice was full of disapproval. "Do you expect me to explain everything to you step by step? Oh, but of course you are. A shame Wolfgang is too young for this; he would watch closely instead of thinking about whatever bullshit you think about. I will show just one more time, Albrecht. Am I clear?"
"Yes, sir." Al squirmed. He was just one wrong movement away from getting hit.
Siegbert placed the crossbow’s foot stirrup firmly on the ground and stepped inside it with his foot.
"First of all, you need to cock the crossbow. Use your bare hands, as nobody will give you enough time to use cocking rope or any other bells and whistles for pussies. Always make sure the crossbow safety is in the red position before you begin. Then make sure that the bowstring is perfectly centered; otherwise, your precision will not matter."
Then he gripped the string with both hands and placed it in one movement, concluding with a loud click.
"Your index fingers must be flushed against the sides of the barrel. This ensures you are pulling the string back straight. If you have followed all the steps correctly, you should set the safety to the white position. People care about double-checking a lot, but you must learn the hard way. Once again, nobody is going to give you enough time for this. If you cocked poorly, it is on you, and you will pay for this with attack precision and strength. Now, for the next part."
Siegbert grabbed the crossbow, placing his hands underneath the rail.
"Never bring your hands above the rail. Even though you have two left hands and it is not a big loss, I cannot afford hospitals and cyberlimbs. You need to load your crossbow next. Remember to have your hand above the string but not too close to the stirrup. Look at the bolt. See these white stripes? Never hold the bolt below that single one. Place the bolt, then slide it into the position. Like this. Watch me now; I will only show from this point onwards."
He held the front of the crossbow with his left hand under the foregrip and pressed the stock of the crossbow into his shoulder. He lightly pressed the index finger of his right hand against the trigger and disengaged the safety. Al noticed the position of his legs and feet, granting the much-needed stability. Siegbert pulled the trigger with a barely audible exhale, hitting the same target right near the first bolt.
"He's snarky, but he's a true pro." Herman gave another barking laugh. "Nobody will teach you as well as your dad."
Siegbert didn't even acknowledge Herman's praise. He stretched his hand with the crossbow to Al.
"Show me what you have learned."
The crossbow was heavy. Al guessed that its weight is around nine kilos. He put the stirrup on the ground and stepped inside it. Continued with checking the safety. Gripped the string and aligned his index fingers against the barrel. He knew that pulling was going to be difficult, so he did his best to remember everything he learned at the gym. Not without an effort, but he placed the bowstring, heard the click, and saw how the safety turned to white.
"Was it that hard?" Siegbert let out a sarcastic scoff. "You are even more pathetic than I thought."
"Z, stop it, really." Herman stepped in again. "My freaking f****t is seventeen, and he would never cock the crossbow like Al just did."
"This is precisely the result of your softness. Al is perfectly obedient and silent. He only opens his mouth when I order him to, because he knows that he no longer has an additional set of teeth and I do not have money for dentists either. It is a shame that he is so dumb and requires so much patience from my side, but, unfortunately, his mother's genes cannot be undone, no matter how much effort I put into him. If I were patting him on the head for every movement he makes, he would grow up into the same kind of f****t. Fortunately, I was not doing that."
"The bowstring has its limit. One day it may leave you without a few fingers." Herman replied, frowning at the commentary he got. "I may think that my son is a pathetic loser, but I still love him as he is. Even if he never meets my expectations."
"If a bowstring tears, it is thrown into the trash where it belongs. Simple as that."
Al stopped listening. This only became more confusing. He had hard times understanding what people even call "love." How can you love someone and call them some slurs? How can you love someone and want them to meet your expectations? With Siegbert it was easy: he hated Al and just disciplined him to shape him into something he wants. But what was it for Herman's son? Where is he? Is he as confused with his father's behavior as Al is?
Thoughts didn't interfere with the next steps: In a few moments Al had loaded the crossbow and was taking aim. There was no targeting scope, only an old basic target system. He has to understand it on his own.
"Ah, struggling again? No scopes for your comfort?" Father has finally noticed him, cutting short an argument with Herman. "I do not expect you to even hit the target, so relax. I am well aware that you are not good with anything."
Oh, he may not be good with anything, but Al wasn't a quitter. He will not pull the trigger until he at least tries to aim the shot. It will take some time, but he felt he had a grasp on what he was doing. Al took a deep breath and pulled the trigger with the exhale. Stock hit his shoulder, maybe leaving a bruise, but it was okay. Next time he probably needs more stability.
"Hah, as I thought. You didn't hit…"
"Holy crap!" Herman exclaimed. He had a binocular with him, and he passed it to Siegbert. "Look, you asshole!"
Siegbert frowned for a moment but then smiled. Al's bolt was right above his previous two.
"Well, would you look at that! Am I not the best mentor you could ever have? If I had not explained to you everything in detail, you would not have performed that well on your very first shot."
"It's your mentoring and his talent, obviously!" Herman took the binocular back.
"Give me a break; Albrecht has no talents whatsoever. Without me he would be completely worthless. I guarantee that on the battlefield he is going to be killed first. I only teach him this to give him a chance to survive, not because I expect him to become a military man or a solo. He lacks the necessary qualities for that role. Albrecht! Go get the bolts."
"Yes, sir." Al gave the crossbow back to his father and hurried to the target.
On his way, he thought he liked the bowstring metaphor Herman used. Besides, you can't throw it in the trash if you have no fingers.
And this idea seemed very comforting to him. He is not yet ready to cut them off, but one day he surely will.
He has more than enough necessary qualities for this.