[ sad to say, shiro doesn’t catch that mumbled hippo. the carnie is explaining and shiro is retaining, check-marking off each bit he’s already concluded himself: not a real gun, plastic pellets, two available shots, hit dead center to win a prize, gotcha. as the carnie steps aside, shiro looks once more to keith and smiles. he passes well for calm and confident as he returns his attention forward and lifts the rifle up. the stock butts with his shoulder and he cranes his neck down, lining up with the barrel and setting himself up comfortably to stare into the scope.
he squeezes his left eye closed, even though age-old instruction tells him not to. it’s easier, feels more comfortable, although it cuts off his awareness of everything outside of the scoped image. it’s more for show than anything; they’re ten, fifteen feet, maybe, from the targets and there’s no need for a scope… especially one as out of focus as this one.
annoyed with it, shiro opens his other eye and lifts his head, thinking for one brief moment that he’ll eyeball it.
no. you have to shoot with the scope.
shiro frowns, just barely keeping his perplexed why at bay. fine, whatever, part of the game. he was thinking this was too easy; maybe the hampered vision is part of the difficulty? sounds like a safety hazard honestly. nonetheless, shiro plays nice and resumes his earlier stance, this time, he stares longer and the blurriness stays… until he blinks and the white an’ red of his target of choice abruptly changes.
adam.
again, he abandons the scope and lifts his head, blinking hard at the rows of now normal-looking targets. he could’ve sworn… -- he glances over at keith, looking for some sort of indication that he’s not going crazy ( again ) but before he can even think to ask, there’s an exasperated:
scope!
shiro winces, looking chastised as he turns his head forward. ]
Right. Sorry. [ and for the third time, he gets back into shooting stance. another blink and the target changes. it looks just like him. it’s just a fucking head but it looks just like him. if he didn’t know any better, he’d think adam was standing behind the target stand, resting his chin on the top rack. he bites his lip to keep himself from mumbling adam’s name, feeling just as out of sync as he’d been ten minutes ago.
is that what this is? is he hallucinating again? what is he thinking -- of course he’s hallucinating again. that both comforts him and distresses him, and honestly, he doesn’t know what to do with any of this… but he’s stalling far too long and he needs to just push through this, like he did before. so he does. his finger trembles as he hooks it on the trigger but he thinks, all he has to do is pull and then the hallucination will be jogged free.
he does not anticipate seeing the pellet lodging itself into adam’s head. it’s like time slows; he sees the hole break through adam’s forehead with staggering awareness. and then, just like that, time speeds way up, red seeping out of the hole fast, too fast until it’s running down his face in a thickened ooze. a startled, strangled sort of sound catches in his throat and he whips his head up, only to find that there is no adam. it’s a normal target, one with a pellet stuck dead center in the innermost circle. bull’s eye. how did he…
congratulations! pick a prize, any prize!
off-kilter and entirely lost on what he just experienced, shiro’s voice comes out faint. ] What… [ he blinks hard again, part wanting to will the image back into existence out of some sick need to understand. expression wrinkled, he mechanically hands over the rifle to the carnie’s expectant hands and without glancing at keith, starts again in that disorientated voice of his. ]
god why is this so long
he squeezes his left eye closed, even though age-old instruction tells him not to. it’s easier, feels more comfortable, although it cuts off his awareness of everything outside of the scoped image. it’s more for show than anything; they’re ten, fifteen feet, maybe, from the targets and there’s no need for a scope… especially one as out of focus as this one.
annoyed with it, shiro opens his other eye and lifts his head, thinking for one brief moment that he’ll eyeball it.
no. you have to shoot with the scope.
shiro frowns, just barely keeping his perplexed why at bay. fine, whatever, part of the game. he was thinking this was too easy; maybe the hampered vision is part of the difficulty? sounds like a safety hazard honestly. nonetheless, shiro plays nice and resumes his earlier stance, this time, he stares longer and the blurriness stays… until he blinks and the white an’ red of his target of choice abruptly changes.
adam.
again, he abandons the scope and lifts his head, blinking hard at the rows of now normal-looking targets. he could’ve sworn… -- he glances over at keith, looking for some sort of indication that he’s not going crazy ( again ) but before he can even think to ask, there’s an exasperated:
scope!
shiro winces, looking chastised as he turns his head forward. ]
Right. Sorry. [ and for the third time, he gets back into shooting stance. another blink and the target changes. it looks just like him. it’s just a fucking head but it looks just like him. if he didn’t know any better, he’d think adam was standing behind the target stand, resting his chin on the top rack. he bites his lip to keep himself from mumbling adam’s name, feeling just as out of sync as he’d been ten minutes ago.
is that what this is? is he hallucinating again? what is he thinking -- of course he’s hallucinating again. that both comforts him and distresses him, and honestly, he doesn’t know what to do with any of this… but he’s stalling far too long and he needs to just push through this, like he did before. so he does. his finger trembles as he hooks it on the trigger but he thinks, all he has to do is pull and then the hallucination will be jogged free.
he does not anticipate seeing the pellet lodging itself into adam’s head. it’s like time slows; he sees the hole break through adam’s forehead with staggering awareness. and then, just like that, time speeds way up, red seeping out of the hole fast, too fast until it’s running down his face in a thickened ooze. a startled, strangled sort of sound catches in his throat and he whips his head up, only to find that there is no adam. it’s a normal target, one with a pellet stuck dead center in the innermost circle. bull’s eye. how did he…
congratulations! pick a prize, any prize!
off-kilter and entirely lost on what he just experienced, shiro’s voice comes out faint. ] What… [ he blinks hard again, part wanting to will the image back into existence out of some sick need to understand. expression wrinkled, he mechanically hands over the rifle to the carnie’s expectant hands and without glancing at keith, starts again in that disorientated voice of his. ]
What did you want?