Too Far Gone (Urban)

59| Answers: No Turnaround

8 years ago

Niqo squeezed one eye shut, his tongue subconsciously slipping out of his mouth. His shoulders stiffened, arms locking into a full extension, his hands training the barrel of the pistol at the glass bottles a few meters in front of him. The trigger tickled his finger, his finger itching to pull it back. Troy watched over his shoulder, his face just a few inches away from Niqo's shoulder. Troy touched his arms again, steadying Niqo's aim before falling back.

     Niqo squeezed the trigger, shattering one of the bottles. His arm swung to the right without hesitation, eliminating another bottle, then the next. He missed the last one by a hair. Troy patted him on the shoulder. “Great, kid, you're improving.”

     Troy sauntered over to the stack of milk crates he used to elevate the bottles and removed one, adding that crate to a different stack so that two stacks were level with each other whilst one stack was higher and the other was lower. Afterwards, he replaced the broken bottles with new ones. Gat, who had been watching from afar, rose from his chair.

     “Yeah, but the way you're teaching him how to shoot is the way pussy ass cops be shootin’. Show him how a real gangster does it, not whatever this shit is,” Gat commented, walking towards Niqo. Gat stuck his hand out, indicating for Niqo to hand him the gun. When he did, Gat cocked it and twirled the gun around his finger while Troy finished setting up the bottles.

     Gat stood besides Niqo and took aim with one arm, tilting the gun slightly. “Watch and learn, kid,” Gat said before firing away. He hit every bottle except for the last one, but quickly launched another bullet at it that made contact. Troy, who hadn't expected for him to fire before he could get out the way, ducked away from the shards of flying glass.

     “No wonder your aim is off,” Gat twisted the gun in his hand. “This model sucks. Here,” Gat reached into his back pocket and pulled out an onyx pistol, the Saints logo rooted at the bottom of the butt of the gun. Niqo got a feel for the gun in his hand. Compared to the one Troy had him practice with, this one seemed to conform to the shape of his hand.

     “You could've waited until I moved, y’know,” Troy sneered.

     “Shut the fuck up and set up the fucking bottles,” Gat shot back. Troy grumbled to himself as he set up the next round of bottles. Once finished, he quickly jogged away. Niqo took aim, mimicking Gat’s form, and fired. This time, he hit every bottle in record time. Gat folded his arms over his broad chest, throwing a smirk Troy's way. Troy shook his head.

     “Whatever man,” Troy grumbled again, walking off from the practice area. Gat laughed huskily, then patted Niqo on the shoulder. Niqo handed Gat his gun, but Gat rejected it.

     “Keep it, kid. It's working for you now.” Gat pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his front pocket. He beat the box on the fat of his palm before flipping it open and pulling out a cancer stick with his mouth. He made like he was about to put it back, but paused and instead offered one to Niqo. Niqo stared at the box blankly before he opted to take one.

     Gat lit both of their cigarettes and took a few puffs before continuing. “I'll take over your training from here, and maybe one day I'll give you the twin to that one,” He gestured to the gun with his finger. “You're alright with me, kid.”

     Niqo stayed quiet, taking a puff from the cigarette. Gat's acceptance meant a lot to Niqo. Ever since he joined the Saints, his life had continued to take it's downward spiral. In the beginning, it was only him missing a couple of days of school to dropping out completely. He stopped going to his aunt’s salon for work, and he moved out of the house and began living with Julius after lying about being a homeless kid.