[26] Training

The air on Morgan's farm was thick with anticipation as the teens gathered, a few nervously glancing at the lineup of firearms on the table. Tall trees lined the property, casting long shadows over the makeshift shooting range where a line of worn-out dummies stood. Morgan Tate, silent and focused, inspected each gun with her practiced eye, her movements efficient, calm, and practiced.

Jean shifted on his feet, eyes glued to the guns. He'd seen them in movies, games, even online tutorials, but this was different. This was real.

Morgan looked up, addressing the group with her usual straightforward tone. "You're holding a weapon. Not a toy. Don't point it at anyone, don't play with it, and don't… do anything stupid." Her gaze lingered on each of them, making sure the message stuck.

Jean swallowed hard, lifting his hand. "So… we just aim and shoot, right?"

She snorted, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "If it were that easy, you'd all be sharpshooters." She picked up a small handgun and gestured for Jean to step forward. "You. First."

Jean felt his heart race as he approached her. He'd been waiting for this, dreaming about holding a real gun for years. But now, with Morgan watching him, his confidence wavered. Her hand guided his fingers around the grip, her calloused touch steadying his. Jean tried to ignore the warmth of her touch, but then she shifted, positioning herself behind him, pressing her chest lightly against his back as she adjusted his stance.

"Hold it like this," she murmured, her voice low in his ear, steadying his grip with her hands. Jean felt the blood rush to his face, his cheeks heating up as he stood there, stock-still. He could feel every breath she took, her presence both comforting and intimidating.

"Eyes on the target," she instructed, her hand pressing his back slightly. "Focus."

Jean's hands trembled slightly. "Uh, yeah… okay." His voice sounded a little too high, too nervous.

Behind them, Akira's gaze darkened. She stood rigidly, her jaw clenched as she watched Morgan's hands guide Jean's. Her fingers twitched, and her eyes narrowed, flashing dangerously at Morgan's back.

"Steady your breathing," Morgan said, either not noticing or ignoring Akira's glare entirely. "It'll help your aim." She squeezed his shoulders slightly, then stepped back.

"Go ahead," she said, gesturing toward the target. "Pull the trigger."

Jean swallowed hard, took a breath, and squeezed. The gun kicked back in his hand, sending a jolt up his arm, and his shot went wild, completely missing the dummy. He winced, lowering the gun.

"Not bad," Morgan said, her voice unreadable. "But you're flinching. Relax. Focus."

Jean nodded, taking her advice to heart, trying to focus on the target and not the heat still lingering from where her body had pressed against his.

Jordan, standing a few feet back, raised his hand. "Yo, uh, Miss Tate, I think I need some help, too… you know, to make sure my 'posture's' right," he said, a sly grin creeping onto his face. Lucas and Tyler snickered beside him.

Morgan shot him a hard look, but Jordan only grinned wider, nudging Lucas with his elbow. "What? I need guidance."

Lucas, barely able to hold back his own laughter, chimed in, "Yeah, like, my aim could use some correcting, too. Just like Jean's."

Jean turned, glaring at them, his face still flushed. "Can you guys not?"

Morgan rolled her eyes, picking up another handgun and gesturing Jordan forward. "You want help?" she said, voice dry. "Fine. Don't whine when you get it."

Jordan stepped forward, looking smug as she took his hands and forced them into the right position, her hands rough and no-nonsense as they gripped his. "Hold it tight. Don't let it buck back, or you'll screw up your wrist."

Jordan's grin faltered a bit as she tightened her grip on his hand, her no-bullshit attitude quickly wiping the smirk off his face. He swallowed, nodding. "Uh… yeah, got it."

"Focus on the damn target," she muttered, releasing him with a small shove. "Stop grinning like an idiot."

He looked ahead, his grin fading as he aimed the gun. Taking a breath, he squeezed the trigger, and the shot went wild, hitting the ground a few feet short of the target. Lucas burst out laughing, and Jordan turned to him, cheeks flushed.

"Shut up, man!" Jordan shot back, cheeks burning.

Morgan just shook her head. "If you're gonna screw around, do it somewhere else," she warned. "Otherwise, focus."

Ty stepped forward next, attempting to look serious, though his smirk was hard to miss. "I'd love some… you know, personal assistance," he said, voice dripping with faux innocence. He threw a quick glance back at the others, clearly trying to milk the moment.

Morgan arched an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "You want to keep that smirk? I suggest you start taking this seriously."

Ty gulped, but then forced a more sober look, trying to match her intensity. She corrected his grip sharply, her tone curt. "You've all watched enough movies to think this is easy. Well, it's not."

Jean, still red-faced, looked back at Akira, who was fuming silently. Her gaze was fixated on Morgan, her fists clenched tight. She looked like she might just go for the nearest sharp object if she saw Morgan so much as brush against him again.

Lucas noticed the tension and leaned in toward Jean, snickering. "Yo, your girl looks like she's about to bite someone's head off."

Jean shot him a look, whispering back, "Shut it. She's not my—she's just… intense, okay?"

Morgan, meanwhile, had moved to Evan, whose hands were shaking as he took the gun. He glanced at her with wide eyes. "Uh… I-I think I need help, too," he stammered.

Morgan sighed but moved to his side, adjusting his arms with a bit more patience. "Keep your arms steady," she instructed. "Don't let your wrists go limp."

Evan, cheeks red, nodded frantically. "Yeah… steady, right… got it."

The others snickered behind him, and Morgan shot them a glare that silenced them instantly. She didn't take her eyes off Evan, her hands guiding him carefully.

"Relax," she muttered. "It's just a gun."

"Right… just a gun…" Evan mumbled, taking a shaky breath before finally squeezing the trigger. The shot went wide, but closer than the others, and he looked back at her, a nervous smile on his face. "Thanks, Miss Tate."

She gave him a curt nod, stepping back. "Keep practicing. All of you. We're not stopping until you hit something other than dirt."

The teens looked at each other, half-grinning, half-nervous, the reality of the training beginning to set in. The humor faded as they picked up their weapons again, each of them focusing a little harder this time, Morgan's stern gaze watching their every move.