{"id":753,"date":"2021-06-29T19:23:17","date_gmt":"2021-06-29T19:23:17","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/?p=753"},"modified":"2021-08-08T20:23:51","modified_gmt":"2021-08-08T20:23:51","slug":"fishbones-book-i-chapter-4-robin-hood","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/2021\/06\/fishbones-book-i-chapter-4-robin-hood\/","title":{"rendered":"Fishbones Book I \u2013 Chapter 4: Robin Hood"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

\"\"Illustration by Eyugho<\/span><\/a><\/span><\/p>\n

There was something to be said for after-school activities. Sports could build character and forge friendships. Clubs allowed students to build a laundry list of achievements that all looked quite compelling on college applications. This activity, however, was one that Ferris wouldn\u2019t be putting down on paper. Anywhere.<\/span><\/p>\n

The Giorgettis often went to the shooting range downtown, but this was the first time that Ferris was joining them. Demos had asked for him to come, \u201cjust in case.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n

Whatever that meant.<\/span><\/p>\n

The shooting range was located in the basement level of a large office building. The entrance was nondescript, visible only to those who were looking for it.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Vic, you brought the kids.” The owner was a Black man in his late fifties who\u2019d lived through Vietnam and had several tattoos to prove it.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0“Hi, Ben,” Demos said. The two exchanged familiar nods\u2014apparently, he came here a lot. Just as Ben began to set out a rifle and a few handguns, Demos stopped him.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Actually, I have my own now.”<\/span><\/p>\n

This was received with a smile. Earlier, Demos had boasted about neither reaching the appropriate age for such a possession, nor enduring the half-year wait to get a license. It didn\u2019t seem that anyone present cared.<\/span><\/p>\n

“What’d they get you, kid? Not a pop-gun, I hope.”<\/span><\/p>\n

“No.” With an entirely-too-smug smile, Demos pulled a tiny silver and black revolver from its case. “A snub nose\u2014.357 Magnum. Birthday present.”<\/span><\/p>\n

A snub nose wasn’t a hobbyist\u2019s hunting gun. It was made to be carried and concealed. If someone owned one, they were either a detective or up to no good. Demos was not a detective.<\/span><\/p>\n

“That’s a nice piece of work. Smith and Wesson? From stingy old Victor?” Ben grinned.<\/span><\/p>\n

Victor was quick to fold his arms across his chest. “Stingy old Victor<\/i> got the kid some bonds. The gun’s from his grandfather.” <\/span><\/p>\n

“Hey, what about him?” Ben asked, jerking a thumb toward Ferris. He’d been silent the entire time.<\/span><\/p>\n

“We’re going to teach him the basics. Rifle for now,” Victor said.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ferris, clearly just going along with what was being said, nodded. The hefty number of firearms on the table and in everyone’s hands was new, to say the least.<\/span><\/p>\n

“All right.\u201d Ben shifted the toothpick in his mouth to the other side. “Take this.”<\/span><\/p>\n

He passed an unloaded rifle into Ferris’ hands, picking up one of the same model to explain. “This is a standard .22 caliber. This button on the side, that’s the safety. When it’s red, safety’s off. Rule one: always treat a gun as if it\u2019s loaded.”<\/span><\/p>\n

Ferris looked down at the weapon in his hands. It was lighter than he’d expected and the grip was made of cool, black plastic.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cRule two,\u201d Ben said. \u201cNever point the muzzle at something you aren\u2019t willing to destroy.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

“I don’t have to fill out any forms?” Ferris said.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben laughed as if he\u2019d heard the funniest joke in his life. It took a moment for his frame to stop shaking and for the wheeze to leave his breath. He cleared his throat and the lesson continued. <\/span><\/p>\n

From there, Ferris was in student-mode as the man explained every aspect of the weapon, from how to load it to what to do if it was jammed. Demos sat by, unable to help but look bored.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Yeah, so anyway,\u201d Ben said. \u201cJust watch where you’re aiming it. Can’t tell you how many times some asshole was standing around talking to his friends and then blows a hole in the wall. You don’t want to shoot your friend, do you?”<\/span><\/p>\n

Ferris blinked, struggling to keep his hand from twitching on the rifle stock. \u201cNo.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Ben and Victor finally left the boys to themselves in the next room. The boys loaded ammo for Ferris\u2019 rifle, silently counting as they filled the magazines. Golden metal gleamed under fluorescent lighting as dozens of rimfire cartridges splayed over the dark table top. The ammunition clicked as it went in, leaving their fingers stained with dark smudges.<\/span><\/p>\n

“How long have you been doing this, anyway?” Ferris asked, setting a full magazine to the side.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Legally?” Demos said.<\/span><\/p>\n

“At all.”<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWell, Dad showed me how a pistol worked when I was five. I guess he didn’t want me to find his stash and accidentally kill myself\u2014or him.”<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s fair, I guess.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

“He was weird.\u201d Demos went quiet. He didn’t speak of his father often. The last bullet snapped into place and Ferris set the packed magazine at the end of his row.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Ready?” Demos handed over earmuffs and plastic eye protection.<\/span><\/p>\n

“Honestly?”<\/span><\/p>\n

“You’ll be fine,” Demos said, giving his friend a smile as he slid the eyewear behind his ears. \u201cJust remember what Ben told you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Ferris nodded. The last few words out of Demos\u2019 mouth were muted from the ear coverings he\u2019d put on, but he got the general idea. They went onto the shooting line, closing the door behind them. Victor was already going strong, the automatic pistol in both hands firing a half dozen holes into the paper target ahead of him. Even with the headset, it was loud.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ferris\u2019 palms hadn\u2019t stopped prickling. He loaded the rifle, cocking it before pulling it up to aim. It was difficult to keep his hand steady and the small sight wouldn\u2019t sit perfectly still beneath the bull\u2019s-eye. When would he ever have to use this weapon? If the time came, would he actually have it in him to shoot a human being? He wasn\u2019t even sure if he\u2019d have the heart to shoot a squirrel.<\/span><\/p>\n

On his left and right, the sound of heavy gunshots pierced the air, echoing despite the thick muffs covering his ears. He didn\u2019t want to imagine the noise without them.<\/span><\/p>\n

He took in a breath, then tugged the trigger. The kickback was slight and the bullet punctured the target with a sharp snap. Squinting, he looked past his glasses to see where it had hit.<\/span><\/p>\n

It was, more or less, in the right area. It was no bull\u2019s-eye, but at least he hadn\u2019t missed the paper entirely. Ferris ignored the sweat behind his ears. It was strange, something he hadn\u2019t expected. It had felt\u2014<\/span><\/p>\n

It had felt kind of good.<\/span><\/p>\n

He closed his eyes. This was fine, it was normal. Shooting was a sport\u2014a hobby. Almost every person on the range was there for fun. Enjoying a rifle, just a little, did not make him a serial killer.<\/span><\/p>\n

Right?<\/span><\/p>\n

Ferris opened his eyes and drew the rifle back up to fire once more. He could think about that later.<\/span><\/p>\n

When he had emptied the first magazine, he glanced around the short wall to see how Demos was doing. The boy had already pulled in his target, having emptied over two dozen bullets into it. The result was strange. Instead of thirty little holes scattered about the paper, they were all neatly clustered together in the dead center. Demos held the target up, looking at Ferris through the golf ball sized opening. He winked. <\/span><\/p>\n

What an asshole.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAre you winking?\u201d Ferris said. \u201cIt\u2019s hard to tell with all that hair over your eye. You do have two eyes, right?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

There was that smug grin again. Of course, Demos hadn\u2019t heard his friend\u2019s muttering through the muffs and simply smiled before turning back to reload his revolver.<\/span><\/p>\n

Soon, they reconvened in the back room. Ferris removed his eye protection, letting his skin get some fresh air. He couldn\u2019t believe that he was tired; all he\u2019d done was pull a trigger. His lungs were weary and his skin was damp. He exhaled, tugging the headset down to rest around his neck.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re doing pretty well,\u201d Demos said, drinking from a bottle of water.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t patronize me.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m serious. A lot of guys go all crazy cop-movie mode and don\u2019t even bother aiming.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Ferris grabbed a broom for the discarded shells. \u201cI hadn\u2019t realized you were that good.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou sound bothered.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI guess I shouldn\u2019t be, as long as I\u2019m on your side.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThere you go,\u201d Demos said with a smile.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSo, you ready to go home?\u201d Ferris said.<\/span><\/p>\n

Demos didn\u2019t answer. He was staring over Ferris\u2019 shoulder, his expression hard to read. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDemos?\u201d Ferris hesitated before turning to see what his friend was staring at.<\/span><\/p>\n

A young man was at the counter, buying a few boxes of cartridges. A steaming paper cup was in his left hand. His skin was fair and worn, and he seemed perpetually flushed over his cheekbones.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWho is that?\u201d Ferris said. <\/span><\/p>\n

As if he could feel the teens\u2019 eyes, the man looked over. His hard features contorted to form something similar to a grin.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWell,\u201d the stranger said, walking over through the doorway to the back room. He looked over the two, noticing that Ferris had a broom. \u201cIf it isn\u2019t Ghostie. And his skivvy, I guess.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHi, Bob,\u201d Demos said, his tone curt.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI told you<\/i> not to call me that,\u201d the man said with a snap. His accent was thicker when he was angry. Ferris had heard of him before. His given name was, unfortunately, Brian O\u2019Brien. Ferris glanced between the two. The tension was thick enough to cut with a machete.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSo, you done for the day? Shame.\u201d Brian smirked. \u201cGuess I can\u2019t whip you in another bet.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

It was no wonder Demos had been staring a hole in this man\u2019s head. It seemed Brian had bested him and Demos had a fragile ego. For once, Demos didn\u2019t have a response.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd what\u2019s that?\u201d Brian slapped a hand to his own face in feigned surprise. \u201cWhat a wee little gun! Suits you perfectly.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not going anywhere,\u201d Demos said. He managed a snide smile. \u201cAnd I\u2019m not going to lose again.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re on, then. And what shall we bet?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhy don\u2019t we use testosterone, since you seem to have it in excess.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Brian snorted. In lieu of response, he took a sip of his tea. As he set the cup down onto the table, his eyes drew up to match Demos\u2019.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHow about that little revolver of yours? It\u2019s so small, you wouldn\u2019t miss it anyway.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

There was a subtle twitch in Demos\u2019 smile, one that only Ferris noticed. That little revolver was a gift from his grandfather. If he failed again, the words \u2018I lost it in a bet<\/i>\u2019 would have to come out of his mouth\u2014to Gino.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd if you lose.\u201d Demos\u2019 eyes dropped to the weapon in Brian\u2019s hand. \u201cI get your Beretta?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Brian opened his mouth to answer, but hesitated. Even Ferris could tell\u2014the Beretta was easily twice the value of Demos\u2019 revolver. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s right,\u201d Brian said. His green eyes glinted in the dim light. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cFine.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n

With a quick, firm handshake, it was settled.<\/span><\/p>\n

The patrons of the shooting range seemed familiar with the rivalry Brian and Demos had. When the two approached the line, the area quieted. From the back room where Ferris was watching, hushed voices exchanged wagers. Apparently, short barreled guns were more difficult to aim. The snub nose had a harder kick, making accuracy trickier. Not only was Demos less experienced, but he was playing with a handicap. Ferris swallowed.<\/span><\/p>\n

Demos tucked his hair out of his eye. It was too late to change weapons; Brian was already aiming.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cTwenty-five yards. Five shots each,\u201d Brian said. The Italian only nodded, snapping the cylinder shut and holding it up to aim. He pulled back the hammer, then swallowed.<\/span><\/p>\n

The next ten shots that rang through the air melted into one other, filling the line with echoing noise. Ferris only stood behind the glass and watched, positive that this was a terrible idea. Sometimes Demos was too confident for his own good. If he lost his first gun, he doubted Gino would be hopping to buy him another one. This was a gamble that only an immensely swelled pride would be willing to take. <\/span><\/p>\n

Brian wheeled his target in immediately, unclipping it to pass to one of the staff.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAdd that up. Not my best, but it should do for the likes of him,\u201d Brian said. The bullet holes had sliced through compactly, leaving a neat cluster in the middle with a couple shots along the edge. It was impressive.<\/span><\/p>\n

Demos had brought in his target as well, holding it in both hands. He wasn\u2019t speaking. This meant he had either done exceptionally well, or exceptionally terrible. <\/span><\/p>\n

Brian snatched it from his hands, holding it up to the light. \u201cTwo hits? You only hit it twice? Tell me this is a joke.\u201d Brian laughed, hand on his chest in disbelief. <\/span><\/p>\n

Demos didn\u2019t reply, only looking over to Ben for backup. <\/span><\/p>\n

The man took the target, examining it carefully. \u201cActually, Bob, he hit it five times.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019d you call me?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMr. O\u2019Brien,\u201d Ben said. \u201cLook, four of them just went into the same hole is all.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cGive me that.\u201d Brian snatched the paper back. <\/span><\/p>\n

Indeed, the hole was a bit larger than it should have been. Four bullets had passed through the exact same spot.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSo I pulled the first shot.\u201d Demos smiled in a way that would make any grown man want to slap him. \u201cNew gun, you know?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Demos held his hand out, motioning for Brian\u2019s Beretta.<\/span><\/p>\n

Brian\u2019s face had grown a deep shade of pink and his hands were close to shaking. He sneered. \u201cYou\u2019re lying, the both of you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re not backing out now\u2014\u201d Demos said. \u201cAre you, Bob?\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve got a lot of fuckin<\/i>\u2019 nerve for a teenager!<\/i>\u201d There was a rage set in Brian\u2019s eyes\u2014sweat building on every corner of his face. \u201cYou drop that cocksucking grin before I wipe it off for you!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThere a problem here?\u201d came a steady voice from over Brian\u2019s shoulder\u2014Victor, posture firm, his arms folded across his chest. Brian clenched his teeth. Historically, men who spoke back to Victor Giorgetti woke up to the smell of a burning house.<\/span><\/p>\n

Without another word, Brian slapped the Beretta into Demos\u2019 hands. He gave the boy a hard glare, then turned to leave. The door slammed shut behind him.<\/span><\/p>\n

The moment they were alone, Victor smacked the backside of Demos\u2019 head.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOw!<\/i> What was that for?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI ever hear of you betting a gift from your grandfather again and you won\u2019t be having another birthday!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, okay.\u201d Demos rubbed the spot where he\u2019d been hit. <\/span><\/p>\n

The scolding didn\u2019t end when they moved to a back room. \u201cI can\u2019t believe you did that,\u201d Ferris said.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, I wasn\u2019t too bad, huh?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo, I mean, I can\u2019t believe you bet your revolver against that guy. What would you have told Gino if you lost it?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not really sure. I didn\u2019t plan on losing.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou weren\u2019t even nervous,\u201d Ferris said.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAre you kidding me? I nearly choked, I was so fucking scared,\u201d Demos said. \u201cBut I couldn\u2019t let him know that, could I?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI guess.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd look\u2014\u201d Demos said with a smile. \u201cTwo guns.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He held them both up, a little too proud. Ferris only sighed, trying to remember what he liked so much about this idiot.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAdmit it, Ferris. That was pretty cool\u2014I was like Robin Hood.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cRobin Hood gave his loot to the poor.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou want me to give a semi-automatic pistol to a homeless person?\u201d Demos asked with a raised eyebrow.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSeriously, that guy took it really hard,\u201d Ferris said. \u201cYou\u2019re probably going to end up in his trunk.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Demos only laughed. Where Ferris fretted about both the past and the future, Demos lived in the moment. And in this moment, in this place, he had found victory.<\/span><\/p>\n

Today, he\u2019d won.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Illustration by Eyugho There was something to be said for after-school activities. Sports could build character and forge friendships. Clubs allowed students to build a laundry list of achievements that all looked quite compelling on college applications. This activity, however, was one that Ferris wouldn\u2019t be putting down on paper. Anywhere.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-753","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fishbones-book-01"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p4oWx8-c9","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"post_mailing_queue_ids":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/753","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=753"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/753\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":787,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/753\/revisions\/787"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=753"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=753"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.fishbonescomic.com\/novel\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=753"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}