Failing

The debris crunched underneath my boots as I walked around an abandoned health care center, scouting the area for any people present. I wanted to test some things, so I needed to ensure that no one would get in my way.

The building was located on the shore, some distance away from any houses, which made it a perfect place for a mock-up battle. Airguns should be quiet enough not to reach them and attract any attention.

I wrinkled my nose and pulled my bandana tighter over my face. I wore it in case I get spotted, but it also had the advantage of partially blocking the smell. The place stank of piss and dead rats.

In the whole building, I only found one homeless guy lying around wrapped in dirty blankets. I couldn't exactly kill him, cause if by any chance a corpse is discovered here, the police would come, and I would lose such a nice training spot. And I couldn't be bothered disposing of the body.

So I just knocked him out with a brick, lifted him up, and tossed him outside the building.

Then, I finally could begin.

As my shooting accuracy has significantly improved, I was almost ready for the training sessions with the boy to start. I can't say I was fully satisfied with my skills, but I guess it would do.

However, there was one more thing I needed to figure out. That is, boosting the bullets by breaking the reality laws.

I was certain that the organization members were at least increasing the bullet speed when fighting against me. Otherwise, they wouldn't have been able to hit me in the first place. I knew my abilities to defend against normal guns well.

And so, I wanted to use similar techniques as well.

I knew how to manipulate speed and accuracy when throwing things, and I knew how to boost my own movements, but affecting the bullets shot by a gun was a bit different. After all, I wasn't moving them on my own, but rather needed to enable them to exceed the norm, which made things a lot more complicated.

In fact, I had no idea how to do it yet. But if those weaklings from the organization were able to learn it, then there was no way it could be that hard.

I went to the end of a long corridor and loaded my airgun with pellets. I lifted the gun, and aiming at a spot above the window on the other end, I started shooting, focusing on the bullet. The best way to figure it out was through trial and error.

That's how I always did things, after all.

***

Late in the evening, I was sitting at the bar, drinking whiskey with a deep frown on my face.

Despite spending hours in the building, shooting until I ran out of pellets, I still haven't figured it out. Of course, it was only the first day, but it was extremely frustrating regardless.

The best I could do so far was to take control of the pellet after it was shot out from the gun, and then move it by setting the trajectory and adding the speed. Obviously, that took only a split second, and with the speed being much higher, the pellet hit the target quicker than it normally would, but that was not the point. This way it was no different from me throwing the pellet. What was the use of the gun then?

If I had terrible aim and couldn't hit a thing when I picked up a gun for the first time, that was fine. I could accept that I wouldn't be a master right from the start.

But this was different. Breaking the reality laws was my specialty. I could do anything and everything I put my mind to. Until now, that is.

What was I doing wrong?

I grabbed my glass and finished the drink in one big gulp. "Another one."

The barman, still the same one I recognized from the previous two worlds, quickly prepared me another whiskey on rocks. The dark circles underneath his eyes seemed to have gotten even worse, and he still haven't managed to quit this place as he wanted.

Heh, being a normal person, who needs to work to pay the bills, must really suck.

Somehow, this lightened my mood. Schadenfreude, I guess.

Finally feeling better, I looked around to see if there was any girl that caught my eye. The plan was to get drunk and hook up to unwind, so that I can have another go at figuring out how to boost the gunshots tomorrow with a fresh mind.

However, there was no one really my type around. There were a few pretty girls on the dance floor, but they were with some guys, so I couldn't be bothered trying to butt in. Then there was a group of women sitting at the table, and some of them were rather attractive, but they were in their late thirties at least. And I didn't usually go for older women.

I sighed and turned back to the bar. I had such bad luck today.

Well, the night was still young, so it was too early to give up, I guess. If the situation wouldn't improve in the next hour or so, I could try hitting a different place.

Bored, I was lightly swirling my glass, looking at the colored lights reflecting in the amber liquid, when a young woman, probably in her early twenties, came over to the bar and sat down on the stool right next to me.

She was quite pretty, with big, bright, green eyes and long, ginger hair, falling on her shoulders and back in subtle waves. She didn't wear much make-up or any accessories. She looked very professional, dressed in a plain white shirt and a simple black suit, like a proper, diligent office worker. A bit out of place in a club like this, where most women wore skimpy tight dresses, but maybe she came here straight after work. She seemed a bit like a prude, but women like that…

"James Foster, 25, the world of origin unidentifiable, first appearance in CXWK21049-SJG3/X under the jurisdiction of…"

Fuck.

Before the woman finished speaking, I sprang onto my feet, reaching out my hand. Time to collapse the building, I guess.