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The target range was empty, as usual. And that’s just the way Sniper liked it. It helped him clear his mind, and right now, his mind was full of thoughts he didn’t need.
He thought back on the Administrator’s decision to allow family to visit the base, and whether or not that was for the best. Having his parents come see him was out of the question for Sniper, as they didn’t exactly approve of how he made his living, but Heavy had wasted no time in inviting his mother and sisters to the base for a week. His mother was lovely, and Zhanna and Yana were likeable enough. But then, there was Bronislava.
Sniper picked up the Huntsman, determined to get some practice in with it. He’d gotten rusty, relying too much on his rifle. He needed to get his archery skills back up to par, and he needed to forget about a certain Russian brunette that had been pursuing him since the moment she’d arrived. This, Sniper figured, would be the perfect way to do it.
He notched an arrow, raised the bow, and drew the string back. Once he’d achieved the sufficient amount of tension, he let the arrow fly, and was dismayed to see it strike the blue circle. Too far off for his liking. He notched another arrow and tried again, pushing away the myriad thoughts that threatened to break his concentration. He let loose the second arrow, and again, it wasn’t close enough to the bull’s-eye for his comfort. It was a good thing he was practicing. He clearly needed it.
Arrow after arrow went flying towards the target, with Sniper collecting them every so often when he ran out. He was slowly improving, the muscle memory coming back to him, the arrows getting closer and closer to the center of the paper target strapped to a pile of hay bales. With each level of improvement, his mind cleared, slowly pushing aside the discomfort of having extra people on the base, the unwarranted looks and winks, the shameless flirting that Bronislava had engaged in with him whenever she had the chance …
Dammit. He was thinking about her, again. More practice, then.
The marksman continued to notch, aim, and fire, steadily improving with each shot. A half hour went by, then another. He had gotten to the point where he was hitting the red or yellow circles each time, and with his arm muscles beginning to ache, he decided that was enough for the day. He still needed more practice, but it could wait until tomorrow. He walked to the target and retrieved his arrows one last time, then began to walk back to where he’d been standing. And that’s when he saw her, Bronislava, stepping out from her hiding place around the corner.
Why wouldn’t she just leave him alone? Sniper had never given any indication that he was interested, hadn’t even said anything to her after his initial nod and “G’day,” when he was introduced to her. Whatever she felt for him, whatever chance she thought she had with him, it was all in her head. As far as Sniper was concerned, that’s where it should stay. But no, she had to follow him around base, and now, to the one place he always went for solitude. It was a bridge too far.
“What do you want?” he found himself asking. It wasn’t polite, and that went against his personal code, but he was nearing the end of his tether. Bronislava approached him, and indicated the target with a wave of her hand.
“Your elbow. It sticks out. You compensate too much, and you miss the shot.”
Sniper blinked. Of all the things she could have said to him in that moment, of all the flirtations and sweet nothings he’d expected her to say, he surely wasn’t prepared for that. He could feel his face growing hot, and his ears getting red. His gullet was rising, and he could feel the anger boiling just below the surface.
“Yeah? And just who are you to criticize my shootin’? I’m a professional assassin, I’ll have you know!”
Before he could stop her, Bronislava plucked the Huntsman from his grasp and picked up an arrow that hadn’t yet been put away. She notched, pulled back, and took aim all in one fluid motion. She barely had time to view the target before the arrow went flying.
It hit the bull’s-eye.
Sniper’s jaw dropped open. He hadn’t been expecting that, either.
“Your elbow,” Bronislava continued in a matter-of-fact voice, holding out the Hunstman to hand it back to Sniper. “Keep it to your side. You will shoot better.”
Sniper grumbled, snatching his bow back from her. Sure, maybe she had a point. But he couldn’t stand to be shown up. Not at his own base, not on his own turf. The pride he took in his work boiled over, and he felt his mouth curling into a snarl. No one was going to outdo him, if he could help it. No matter how pretty they were.
Without a word, Sniper grabbed an arrow from the quiver, prepared for the shot, and tucked his elbow in before releasing. The arrow hit its mark with ease. However pleased with himself he may have been, the victory was a sour one, as he caught Bronislava smiling at him out of the corner of his eye.
“Yes! Better!”
Sniper didn’t take kindly to being treated like some kind of novice. He fully turned to face the woman, snarl still etched on his face.
“I don’t need lessons from you, or anyone else.”
The smile faded from Bronislava’s face, but instead of pouting, her face took on a challenging look. “It would appear, Mr. Sniper, that you do.”
That tore it. Sniper wasn’t about to take any more from this woman who hadn’t left him a moment’s peace since she got there. She was annoying, nosy, and bossy, and he didn’t need any of that in his life.
“Oh, yeah? Let’s put your money where your mouth is. A week’s wages says you can’t beat me.”
Bronislava raised an eyebrow, a mischievous expression spreading across her face. “I do not care about money. I want something else.”
Sniper immediately knew he was going to regret asking, but he had to, anyway. “And what’s that?”
Bronislava broke out into a full grin. “If I win, you have to kiss me.”
Sniper gulped. Of course she would wager something like that. Well, two could play at that game.
“Fine. But if you lose, you promise to leave me alone. No more of this followin’ me around, talkin’ to me, tryin’ to get my attention. None o’ that. Understand?”
Bronislava didn’t even take a moment to consider the offer before she threw her head back and laughed. Sniper could feel himself getting even angrier. Why couldn’t this woman take him seriously?
Bronislava stopped laughing and looked Sniper dead in the eye. There was a sparkle there, he noticed, as if she knew something he didn’t. It made him uneasy, so he decided not to dwell on it.
“Very well. If you win, I will leave you alone,” she promised. Sniper nodded.
“First one to hit the bull’s-eye ten times, wins,” he explained, handing the Hunstman back to her. “We’ll take turns. Ladies first.”
“Traditionally, the one at the disadvantage goes first, but very well,” Bronislava remarked, getting under Sniper’s skin even more. What was with this sheila? Why couldn’t she just leave well enough alone and shoot already?
“Let’s see what ya got, first,” Sniper grumbled. “Then we’ll see who’s at a disadvantage.”
“You have already seen ‘what I got,’” replied Bronislava coolly, as she raised the notched arrow and pulled it back to her face. In less than a second, she sized up her target, calculated the amount of pull needed, and had let the arrow fly.
It hit the dead center.
“Big deal,” Sniper muttered under his breath. After all, he had just done the exact same thing. He tried not to admit to himself that he had only done it after Bronislava’s advice.
Meanwhile, his opponent was smiling again, handing the bow back to him. “I am used to hunting,” she explained.” In Siberia, food is scarce. One chance is all I get. I have to hit the head, otherwise there is less meat. The head of a moving rabbit is a hard thing to hit,” she finished, watching as Sniper picked up an arrow and prepare his shot.
Sniper couldn’t help but reflect on what she’d said. Hitting a moving target was no easy feat, especially one as small as a rabbit. She must be a very good shot, indeed. Crikey, wish he’d known that before he’d decided to enter an archery contest with her. He pushed the thought from his mind and took aim.
His arrow hit the bull’s-eye, too, but it wasn’t as centered a shot as Bronislava’s. Inwardly chastising himself, he handed the Hunstman back to her. She shot again, narrowly missing the arrow that she’d shot before, yet still managing to hit the target. Sniper could feel a small, nagging sense of worry somewhere in the back of his mind. Maybe this wouldn’t be as easy as he thought.
“Steady, steady,” he reassured himself under his breath when it was his turn. Sure enough, his shot landed next to Bronislava’s, dead in the center of the bull’s-eye. He grinned. He was going to win this, after all.
Not showing any emotion, Bronislava walked to the target and retrieved the arrows there. They had only shot two each, but the bull’s-eye was already crowded, and needed to be cleared. She shot again when she returned, and once again, hit the target dead on. Sniper did the same, and then Bronislava shot again. Her aim went a little wide that time, hitting the line between the bull’s-eye’s center and the next circle. Bronislava softly cursed in Russian before handing Sniper his bow without looking at him. Sniper couldn’t help but rub it in.
“A little off your game, all of a sudden?” he quipped. “Maybe you’re not so sure of yourself, anymore.”
Bronislava glared at him. “I am not worried. But perhaps you should be.”
“Yeah, you keep tellin’ yourself that, mate,” Sniper replied, suddenly feeling cocky. He was gonna win this, hands down.
The two continued to hit the bull’s-eye on each shot, but Bronislava’s tended to be more centered. She also didn’t need as much time for aiming, being accustomed to shooting lightning-fast prey. Sniper was beginning to tell that his reliance on firearms for distance shooting had effected his archery skills, and although he was still an excellent shot, Bronislava was turning out to be slightly better. He forced himself to focus, only barely missing the bull’s-eye once, which made his opponent’s eyes light up.
“Ah! Perhaps Mr. Sniper is the one ‘off his game,’ hm?” she gloated, handily grabbing the bow from him as he grumpily offered it to her.
“We still got two shots apiece left,” he mumbled. “Let’s not count our chickens.”
Bronislava looked around. “Where? Where are chickens?”
Sniper shook his head. “Never mind. Just shoot.”
Bronislava hit the target handily, and so did Sniper. It was his turn to clear the target, and as he did so, he realized he was a point behind. If Bronislava made the next shot, she would win. If she didn’t, and he missed, she would still win. The odds were against him, and he knew it.
Bronislava knew it, too. She flashed him that now-familiar cheeky grin as she picked up an arrow and notched it to the bow. “You know,” she began, “if I get this shot –“
“Yeah, yeah, if you make this shot, you win,” Sniper grumbled, not looking at her. But she wouldn’t let it go.
“And if I win, that means you have to—“
“I know! I’ll have to kiss you!” Sniper was beyond exasperated. “Just take the bloody shot, already!”
Bronislava looked at him evenly, taking his outburst calmly. Sniper was confused. He was normally the consummate professional, the unflappable one on the team. Now this woman comes along, and screws that all up. He’s a mess. Can’t shoot, can’t keep his patience, can’t even think straight. Why the hell was he even bothering with her?
Bronislava continued to scan his face for a moment, as if looking for something. Whether she found it or not, Sniper couldn’t tell, as she suddenly turned towards the target, barely aimed, and sent the arrow flying wide over the hay bale.
She’d missed on purpose. Sniper’s jaw hit the ground. Now why the bloody hell had she done that?
Bronislava shoved the Hunstman into his arms. She was still calm, but Sniper could sense, as much as see, anger just beneath the surface.
“There. You win. I lose. You do not have to kiss me, since the idea is so disgusting to you. I will leave you alone.”
Suddenly, Sniper was sorry for everything he’d just said and done. He had let his emotions get the better of him, emotions he didn’t even know why he was having, and now he’d insulted someone who hadn’t deserved it. Sure, he didn’t want her attention, romantic or otherwise, but he sure as hell didn’t mean to make her feel bad, either. Sniper found himself reaching for her arm as she turned to walk away.
“Hey – I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”
Bronislava turned to face him, the anger now palpable on her face. “I do not need your pity, and I do not want it,” she replied, trying to twist her arm out of her grasp. “Now let me go.”
Sniper was incredulous. She thought he was pitying her? He couldn’t believe the nerve of this woman.
“You know, I just bloody apologized to you, the least you could do is be polite!”
“Oh! Just as you have been so polite to me! Ever since I got here, you have done your best to ignore and spurn me!”
“That’s just ‘cause I didn’t want ya flirtin’ with me so damn much, is all!”
“Flirting? I was being friendly! Are you so alone that you do not know the difference?”
That one stung. Sniper reeled back and let go of Bronislava’s arm. He was alone by choice. No one to have to make small talk with, no one to slow him down, no one to have to be accountable for but himself. He preferred it that way.
Didn’t he?
Sniper looked Bronislava dead in her clear blue eyes. “Then why’d the bloody hell did you want a kiss, then?”
Bronislava averted her eyes and shrugged, as if trying, unconvincingly, to convey that it was no big deal. “Perhaps … perhaps you are not the only one who is alone.”
“Alone? You’ve got your family! Your mother, your sisters, Heavy!”
Bronislava still kept her gaze away from Sniper. “I love my family, but one needs more than that. You have your own family, yes?” She raised her eyes to finally look at him. “Can you say that you are satisfied with just that?”
Sniper had to agree that she had a point. As much as he loved his parents, and as much as he liked his teammates, there was a different kind of loneliness that ate away at him some nights. Maybe choosing to be by himself hadn’t been the brightest idea, after all. Maybe he and Bronislava had a lot more in common than he thought. Maybe a kiss wouldn’t be so bad.
Not wanting to think about it in case he lost his nerve, Sniper reached forward and took Bronislava’s face in his hands, and brought her mouth to his. Her lips were surprisingly soft, and warm, and they welcomed his own. He held her there for a moment, letting himself savor the opportunity he knew he may never get again, before they finally broke apart. When he opened his eyes, he saw Bronislava doing the same, and smiling up shyly at him.
“I did not win, Mr. Sniper. You did not need to do that.”
Sniper wordlessly turned, picked up the Hunstman, and messily shot an arrow that missed the target by a mile. He turned back to Bronislava, a smile making its way across his face.
“Looks like you did.”