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... into the wall behind it.

Carl cursed under his breath and lowered the gun. His hands shook as he reloaded, fingers clumsy, movements too slow.

Hale stood beside him with his arms folded, posture straight, face carved from stone.

"Back straight," Hale said. "You’re leaning too much. Plant your feet. Shoulder-width."

Carl adjusted.

"Elbows locked. Don’t overcorrect. Let the recoil settle."

Carl nodded and raised the gun again.

BANG.

...

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