>>5124074>>5124075>>5124128<span class="mu-s">15, 15, 18</span>
<span class="mu-s"><span class="mu-g">!!TEST PASSED!!</span></span>
<span class="mu-i">+10 Sanity Gained</span>
Leaning into the weapon your body relaxed before tightening up, your finger pulling the trigger softly. Anticipating the recoil you focused on your target, a short burst of full auto rang out. The first few rounds catch the hologram in the chest, the recoil raising the last enough to clip and shatter the target's head. Sending big chunks of holographic brain matter careening through the air. You took a steady breath and waited for the machine to reset, pinpoint readings popped up on the small touch screen pad. Highlighting the lethality of your shots. All 6 rounds had hit, 4 were on center mass and the last two had struck the jaw and forehead almost directly. You smiled and fired again.
Again and again the body was dealt lethal damage, even after dropping back another hundred meters your deadeye did it's work. As the last round left the chamber you let out a sigh of relief, you had beaten your high score significantly. Only missing a few rounds when the target was quite far away. Resting the weapon down, you flicked through the pad examining the numerous dead target holograms. Many hologram women would be widowed this day, many hologram orphans would cry for their dead fathers. Tapping up a reset, you switched to the Tyrant 53.
Plenty of time remained to finish off the box of rounds and make it back to your dorm to pack. The sulfuric mist that danced around your lane put you at ease, an acrid numbing that dulled your mind as you smoothly loaded the cylinder. The taste of metal was in the air and the hint of two day old farts. As the lane was filtering out, a single target stood 150 meters away. Smoke swirling towards the ventilation ducts cast the lane as some western main street, the sun almost high in the sky. The clock tower is crying out for high noon. You locked eyes with the orange yellow bellied bastard. "Draw!" You declared out loud, raising your weapon smoothly with both hands and firing only a single shot. All in one smooth motion. It was over before you knew it. The recoil rumbling up your arms as the revolver bucked under your grip. The orange face flexed turning almost completely inside out as the back of the target's head was blossoming across the lane.
