Thursday, August 7th 1030.
In the underground range of the Newport Police Headquarters, Abel stood with a near-perfect shooting posture as he calmly aimed his revolver at the target.
His breathing was steady, and his vision stable. Then, he squeezed the trigger and emptied all the bullets in the chamber one after another.
The youth slowly lowered the gun as his lips curled into a light smile.
He turned to look at the towering figure draped in tailormade garments standing behind him, and asked, "So? What do you think, Francis?"
A drop of sweat trickled down the side of Francis Digby's forehead as he cast his gaze at the target dummy.
Five out of six bullets had hit the mark. Out of the five, one was a headshot, while the rest were body shots!
He then looked at Abel and asked, "It has been, what, only two weeks since you first took up firearms? That's correct, isn't it?"
Abel had a slightly smug expression on his face as he shrugged. "Yes, something like that."
