CHAPTER 1 The shooting range was crowded with competitors and spectators
The shooting range was crowded with competitors and spectators.
At the edge of the range, a woman quietly swept the floor.
She wore a janitor's uniform.
Most people ignored her.
Then a confident-looking competitor walked over.
She had just finished showing off her shooting skills to the crowd.
The woman smirked when she noticed the janitor.
"Sweep properly, janitor."
Several people laughed.
The janitor kept working.
The competitor wasn't finished.
She pointed toward the targets.
"This is a competition, not a cleaning service."
More laughter echoed around the range.
The janitor tightened her grip on the broom.
Clearly annoyed.
The competitor noticed.
Then smiled even wider.
An idea had just come to her.
She picked up a pistol and pointed toward the center target.
"Tell you what."
The crowd became interested.
The competitor laughed.
"Hit the center and I'll give you a thousand dollars."
The spectators burst out laughing.
Some even pulled out their phones.
The janitor slowly looked up.
Then at the target.
Then back at the competitor.
The competitor folded her arms.
"What?"
She smirked.
"Scared?"
The janitor calmly placed the broom against the wall.
The laughter began fading.
Something about her expression had changed.
She walked toward the shooting lane.
The crowd watched curiously.
The competitor handed her the pistol.
Still smiling.
Still convinced she was about to embarrass herself.
The janitor checked the weight of the gun.
Then faced the target.
Silence.
The range became completely quiet.
The competitor grinned.
"Go ahead."
The janitor raised the pistol.
No hesitation.
No nervousness.
Just confidence.
Then—
BANG!
The shot echoed through the building.
Everyone turned toward the target.
For a moment nobody spoke.
Then gasps erupted.
The bullet had struck dead center.
Perfectly.
The crowd froze.
The competitor's smile vanished.
"What?"
The janitor lowered the pistol.
The spectators stared in disbelief.
Several judges rushed to inspect the target.
The result was undeniable.
A perfect bullseye.
The competitor shook her head.
"No."
The crowd continued murmuring.
The janitor calmly placed the pistol back on the table.
The competitor looked stunned.
"What... that's impossible."
The janitor smiled slightly.
Then looked at the target.
"Not really."
The crowd watched.
Waiting.
The janitor picked up her broom again.
Then casually said:
"I used to be a national champion shooter."
The entire range erupted.
The competitor stood frozen.
Because moments earlier she thought she was mocking a janitor.
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Instead...
She had handed a gun to someone who knew exactly how to use it.
