By Regalo3000
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Pinky Curruthers was lying at his right side, Reno was lying to his left. Rifle in his hands, sweat on his brow, and a target at the other end of the rifle range, Slow Motion was taking his sweet time. Reno looked at his watch, he was a busy man. Buckaroo had asked him to oversee the test. But they'd been here for about a half hour and Reno was beginning to wonder what it was that Banzai had seen in the new prospect.
Well? said Pinky. Are you going to fire or not? We've waited long enough!
A determined look came on Slow Motion's face. More sweat ran down his face. He pulled the trigger.
You missed, said Pinky, Try again.
It was true, the bullet barely missed the left side of the target's head. The target was a Red Lectroid painted on a large sheet of paper.
Slow Motion fired again. The second shot also missed, this time to the right side of the Lectroid's head.
The throat, said Pinky. Shoot for the throat.
The third shot also missed.
Pinky was beside himself. We can't take this guy into battle with us! He can't hit the broad side of a barn!
Anger flashed across Slow Motion's face. Not save the world? He was being ruled out! This couldn't be happening to him. He aimed and fired again. The bullet hit the Lectroid's right eye. Another shot hit the left eye.
Reno said: That's better, much, better.
Slow Motion fired five more times in quick succession. He had made the frowning Lectroid smile.
He's a deadeye! said Reno. I think we've underestimated our friend here.
Slow Motion rose and threw the rifle to the ground. I've never killed anyone, and I don't think I ever will. I'm sorry, guys. I can't do this!
Pinky threw up his hands in disgust. You're probably the best shot we've got, second only to Buckaroo! We could use you in a good fight.
Slow Motion shook his head. I thought I could do it. Looks like I belong behind a desk, shuffling files, dreaming up projects, waiting for grants to come through.
Don't worry about it, said Reno. I've seen people change with time.
I hope I never change in that way, said Slow Motion. I've always approved of killing from a theoretical standpoint. The death of many evil Lectroids in order to save the world. But when I come face to face with having another being's life in my hands ... I can't, fellas. I just can't. I won't be of much good to any of you.
Slow Motion walked away.
_______
New Jersey was paying the Institute a social visit, was between lectures at various Universities, discussing his latest pet theories, when he noticed that there was a man lying on his belly in one of the hallways.
Why was that man lying on his stomach? NJ asked.
Oh, that's just Slow Motion came the answer, he's meditating.
Couldn't he find himself a more comfortable and private place to do that?
Don't ask me, man, I just work here.
_______
Slow Motion was listening carefully. Boy, you can learn a lot of things about people lying on your stomach in public. He knew that New Jersey had just passed by, he knew the sound of the man's voice ... He was embarrassed, but he had a meditation to accomplish ... He needed to completely embarrass himself ... that was the plan ... until he no longer cared to be at the Institute ... then he could leave without feeling guilty ... it was a crazy plan ... but it would work ... no doubt about it. But, Buckaroo had given orders that no one was to approach Slow Motion, nor make any comments about his behavior, and food was to be brought to him, breakfast, lunch, and dinner ... now it had become a battle of the wills ... who was going to give in first? The Institute or Slow Motion ... When were they going to come and take him away? It was taking ages it seemed ... There was no way he would kill, and that was that ... Then, he realized he needed to go to the restroom, and something bad at that ... Oh, blast it, he thought, rising to his feet, and began searching for the nearest toilet.
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It was through the duct in the ceiling that Slow Motion heard the conversation that would change his life.
What's with the new guy? He's kinda creepy.
Oh, I think he's kinda cute, don't call him a creep.
I hear he's a great shot.
But he's got the weirdest name.
What's his name?
Slow Motion.
The gals began to giggle.
Slow Motion had thought, To hell with the meditation. I've going back out to the rifle range.
_______
Back at the rifle range, Slow Motion looked at the painted Lectroid, shot after shot were hitting the throat area, again and again. When angry he had no problem with killing. An applause went up, and Slow Motion lied there like a rag doll, feeling ashamed of himself.
Looks like a beached whale to me, someone said.
There was laughter all around him.
C'mon, everyone, drinks are on me!
There was cheering and Slow Motion listened to the footsteps receding, then he was alone.
It began to rain, but he stayed there. It became harder and harder to see the Red Lectroid in the rain, but, Slow Motion kept his senses tuned. At the right moment he would press the trigger. The rain soon obscured the target altogether but Slow Motion could wait, he could wait forever if need be, wait all night, and the whole of the next day too, until the opportunity arose ... it took all the energy he had to keep up that level of concentration ... it was an eternity ... it was like some black hole sucking the energy out of him ... wanting to rip apart his very soul ...
Then, mercifully, the rain parted ... just enough time to ...
BANG!
He had wounded the Red Lectroid's shoulder! Yes, that was it! If he could wound an enemy properly he need never kill! The solution had come! He shot the Lectroid's hand. The Lectroid's thigh. Foot. Then he had run out of bullets. He rose and found himself standing before Reno in the rain.
I told you things would change, Reno said smiling.
Slow Motion seemed to sway from side to side.
Are you okay? asked Reno.
Then Slow Motion fell foward and hit the mud face first, quite unconscious.
