Next on the agenda was learning to shoot a gun properly because Tamara made it known she wanted to split the bullets evenly, even though the plan was for Lucas to act as a demon-holder.

When asked, Lucas said he knew how to shoot a gun, but Tamara effortlessly saw through that lie and ushered him outside into a backyard hidden from the street's view by a high wooden fence. Lucas felt much less secure out here, but Tamara still seemed at ease.

She retrieved a white bag from a corner of the yard, which jingled with glass bottles, and set up some on tables a few meters apart. "This is how I practice my precision, and where you will learn it."

"I think you meant where I will also practice it," Lucas said, pointing his gun in the direction of a bottle as he'd seen done in movies. He hoped it didn't look as alien in his hand as it felt.

"Go ahead," Tamara said when she'd walked behind him. Lucas tried to do exactly that, pulling the trigger, but no bullet responded to his finger. He gave Tamara an exasperated look, to which she faintly smiled before pointing at the gun. "Maybe try taking off the safety before trying to fire a shot." 

She showed him how by doing it on her own pistol and he imitated her so that the damn block of metal would obey his will. He resumed what he hoped was the right aiming technique and fired at the bottle farthest to the left. To his astonishment, the glass exploded into a million pieces as the bullet pierced it dead center.

Lucas knew it was beginner's luck, but that didn't stop him from wiping away his look of surprise and replacing it with a cocky grin. "I told you I've handled a gun before, this distance is a cakewalk."

Tamara, as was becoming the usual, saw through his false bravado. "Then continue down the line. You shouldn't miss a single shot if your statement is true."

Lucas made a show of giving an indignant huff before aiming at the next bottle. He didn't allow himself to feel the palpable pressure, just operated with the reckless unearned confidence he always acted with. Instead of not missing a single shot, he didn't hit another one, except to graze the last bottle's side; a feat which even he knew was fruitless, since it wouldn't stop a man from killing him, much less an archdemon.

"Must be a tad bit rusty," Lucas said with a sheepish grin.

There was no comment other than Markus' barking laughter as Tamara once again advanced and stacked bottles on the table. She motioned for Lucas to get out of the way and stepped much further than the ten yard distance he had been at, before calmly hitting each bottle dead center with an expertly placed bullet.

Lucas couldn't help thinking that the display was like magic; Tamara made split-second calculations and adjustments to hit her targets consecutively at their weakest point. Truthfully, it was kind of what he expected from an army cosplayer, but that didn't make it any less impressive. Beforehand, the only people he'd seen shoot guns were those who shot and hoped their bullet found their mark.

Tamara regarded him calmly, as if she'd done something akin to a morning stroll. "When you can shoot with that level of precision, is when I'll give you your share of the blessed bullets. Otherwise, it'll be a waste."

"Fair enough," Lucas said, imagining being able to shoot with that level of accuracy. Wizards typically would view that particular skill as useless, for obvious reasons, but Lucas didn't yet think like his ability-dependent peers.

Tamara nodded appreciatively at his lack of argument and went to work stacking up a fresh rotation of bottles. "Best get to it, then."

Two days passed, filled with the constant sound of suppressed gunshots and glass bottles shattering and ramen as lunch and dinner. Lucas could tell Tamara was getting antsy staying holed up, and he had a feeling that the archdemon being given extra time to stack up victims was a large part of it. 

He was growing a bit anxious himself, but more because his deadline was inching closer and he had nothing but a lucky knife throw to show for it. Still, Tamara was an effective teacher, especially because of her apparent natural ability to read him, and his progress blossomed as a result. By the end of the second day, he was fairly confident he could hit even a moving target, as proven by his ability to shoot bottles Tamara threw in the air at a respectable rate.

"Here are your three bullets," Tamara said, dumping the three casings on the table where Lucas snacked on...more ramen. "You've earned them. Always keep one in the pistol's chamber and the other two on your person."

Lucas nodded absentmindedly, well accustomed to her commanding tone. "Do I get to dress up as an army guy now?"

It looked like Tamara almost smiled, but ultimately a frown won out. "For becoming slightly serviceable with a pistol? Any chump with a week's training will walk all over you in hand-to-hand combat, just be glad you have that magic affinity to hide behind."

"Spoken like a jealous banshee," Lucas said with a smirk. "Who needs fists when I can create enough force to hold down archdemons?"

"For both of our sakes, let's hope that's the case."

Lucas tried not to dwell on that comment, or else the possibility of failure might invade his mental fortress. "Are you sure we'll be able to find the archdemon, tonight?" 

Tamara nodded. "Once we step out of the wards' influence, I'm sure the archdemon will pick up our scent and come to us. We are annoying loose ends that it wants to eliminate."

"Yay us."

Tamara sat at the table, her eyes taking on a faraway look. She'd completely ditched the army getup this evening and had on a light beige t-shirt with black sweatpants that made her appear much less tomboyish, except for the gun she idly spun in her hand.

Perhaps it was her casual attire that made her appear less guarded as usual that prompted Lucas to ask the questions that had been on his mind the last two days. "What made you become a demon hunter?" He asked tentatively, as if his tone was the key to getting a proper response.

She paused, eyeing Lucas for a few haughty seconds before responding. "The naive goal of saving the world by permanently eradicating demons, or at least, their ability to enter our dimension. Don't give me that look; I know it's at best improbable, and most likely impossible, but making the world a better place one slain demon at a time has become a passion."

Lucas wasn't surprised at the answer, but by the fact she had given a proper response, and decided to test his luck more. "Are you a victim of demons, or something?" Most wizards who took on demon hunting so intensely were.

"We all are, they are born from the negative emotions of our world. I'm sure you yourself have contributed to the creation of many."

A skillful dodge of his question that Lucas had to grudgingly respect. He relented, finishing his last forkfuls of ramen before popping his next question. "Who taught you all of this, anyway? I find it hard to believe you just learnt all of this stuff from reading superhero comics...not to mention all of the rare items you."

"What is this, an interrogation session? Then let me pose a question of my own; why is your gravity magic so underdeveloped? In fact, you don't act like any wizard I've been around. They're always flaunting their abilities, using it for the smallest things, like opening doors and lifting items, but I've only seen you use your magic in practice or battle."

Lucas was completely taken off-guard by the question. He hadn't thought Tamara was interested in him outside of his ability to help her eliminate the archdemon. He decided that if he wanted to fulfill his curiosity, he had to throw her a bone. "I inherited my gravity magic from my mother...she was remarkably powerful, able to create and maintain large spheres around herself where she manipulated the gravity within it. However, she died when I was quite young - before she could properly train me."

The images that floated through his mind soured the aftertaste of the chicken ramen, but it was truly the look of pity that morphed into Tamara's features that made a wave of emotion wash over Lucas. "Actually, she was murdered, trying to achieve the same naive goal you mentioned. Saving the world one demon killing at a time." His tone took on a harsh undertone and he saw Tamara visibly flinch, but he didn't care. "The funniest part of it all is no wizard or human is likely to remember her sacrifice anymore, it was too long ago, but the demons remember the powerful gravity wizard that wiped out a ton of their best soldiers enough that I risk being targeted for my recognizable magic signature if I use my ability too much."

He paused, unclenching the fist that he didn't remember making during his rant. "All of that to say, she failed the impossible task of being remembered for attempting to save everyone."

Tamara let a second pass before responding. "If she truly shares the same goal as me, I wouldn't call her sacrifice a failure," she said warily, her voice softer than Lucas had ever heard it before. Somehow, that annoyed him more. "Knowing that she did her share eliminating demons and saving potential victims is a good feeling, regardless of being remembered for it or not."

Lucas shook his head in frustration. "How stupid...to have such a selfless goal in a selfish world." His voice came out as a harsh whisper and he closed his eyes tightly, trying his best to brave the boiling emotions that threatened to flow out of their lid.

"What about your father?" Tamara asked softly.

Under normal circumstances, this would have been a terrible attempt to change the topic, but due to Lucas' peculiar circumstances, it worked splendidly. An opposite emotion, though just as strong, came to the forefront of Lucas' being as he imagined his father.

Rage.

"There's nothing to say about him." He stood abruptly and said, "You were right. This interrogation session is stupid. I'm going to rest up so I have as much energy as possible before we go demon fishing tonight." He made sure to pocket the blessed bullets before retreating to the couch where he'd been sleeping the last few days.

Tamara didn't provide any further comments, and he figured she went into her bedroom after a while. However, despite his words, he couldn't find sleep. Instead, he found himself bombarded by memories like some television show. 

Marcus tsked. "Quite a royal fuck up that was."

Despite himself, Lucas smiled. Marcus' bluntness felt comforting. "It's what I'm known for, gotta stick to the script."

"Sometimes there's a need for a script change."

Lucas's smile disappeared. "Don't tell me you're getting soft on me, Mark."

Marcus scowled. "You're the one whose soft, Luke. The problem is you always have been, but perhaps it's time you stop hiding behind that fake easygoing personality and you take fate in your hands."

"Controlling fate isn't possible," Lucas pointed out. "I'd know; If I could control that I'd already have put Loth's into bankruptcy."

"Isn't it, though? They are always key moments where your action can mold the outcome, just like cheating dealers at a table. You only have to be ready to take the risk."

Lucas chuckled. "Since when did you become a philosopher, Mark?"

He made a big show of thinking hard before responding. "Since I was forced to follow around a clueless idiot."

Lucas grunted, turning away from him and facing the inside of the couch. "Well, this clueless idiot needs to get some sleep. Big night coming up, as you might've heard." Markus disappeared, leaving Lucas to his thoughts that prevented any actual sleep.