A bootcamp military base. The Deeper one went into the ranch's grounds, the more it became like a military base, taking Doug from one familiar, nostalgic scenery to another familiar, not so nostalgic one.

The logistics for the entire thing must have cost an arm and a leg. Was this the power and influence of an Elite Four, or simply the power of Thomas Benoit ?

The Audino grasslands had a charm all their own, with the many playful pokemon running about- but he didn't need to be told the training grounds would be where he would likely be spending most of his time under the Elite Four's mentorship.

Besides him, Kama eyed the many pokemon in the far distance with some interest. Many of them moved much better than the riffraff she was frequently forced to work with at base. Would she be training here as well? She darn hoped. Talk about an upgrade.

After much sightseeing, Doug and Kama finally reached the meeting point, were The Man himself awaited.

"Yes, I am John Douglas Sullivan, sir!" Doug said as he clasped and shaked the man's hand, his father's ancestral advice thundering across the back of his head. Firm shake, eye contact and a serious expression.

Doug almost managed, giving the man a friendly smile instead. Two outta three ain't bad!

"It's an honor to meet'cha Mr. Benoit, sir!" Doug said, and for once he meant it. Not of the man's Elite Four status or his track record as essentially real life Rambo, but- "Yer efforts helped m'mom n' pop when we came to Hoenn as refugees. I can't ever thank ya enough!"

A farmer with no land, a music teacher with no piano and a child, in the big City of Slateport with no friends or family in sight. Without the help given out to refugees by philanthropists like Benoit, they would have been more than screwed.

The man was quick to get down to business, and that reminded Doug that he wasn't here on a meet and greet- Benoit was doing both him and his commanding officer out here a big favour, so best to take it seriously.

"I was taught how to shoot a huntin' rifle when I was 10." Doug said, scratching at his cheek. "Farming life could get, uh... a bit hectic towards winter."

Needed to fill the fridge with as much meat as possible, specially when the crops failed to deliver enough.

"I've also been trainin' as a Soldier for half a year now." He said. He assumed the man knew that weapon drills were a daily ordeal. Of course... So was pokemon training, and the average pokemon seemed better than the average ones at base.

Still, his commanding officers seemed to think he was pretty competent given his age to rank ratio.

He didn't know it, but said commanding officer hoped the man before him could turn from a competent officer, into an Elite Soldier.

---

ENLISTMENT: ACT I

And that was why Thomas Benoit was worthy of respect. He only wished more well-off people had been as kind as he had been then.

No point in whining about the past, however. Testing had begun, and Weapon's expertise was first on the docket.

"Yes Sir!"

Doug liked to think he was a pretty decent shot; hunting rifles had provided a foundation for him to stand on when bootcamp finally got around to marksmanship.

But that was bootcamp and base; this was Thomas Benoit. Whether good enough in the army translated to good enough in his camp, he would find out now.

Stepping into station three, the youth grasped the DMR, maintaining trigger discipline as aimed it forward, looking through the sight to get a good grasp of what he was dealing with before lowering it and looking back at Thomas, nodding.

"Ready." He said, pointing the rifle at the first target to catch his eye.

On Benoit's signal, the booming sound of the rifle being shot sounded once, twice, thrice, and then came to a stop.

Kneecap, kneecap, kneecap, on each of the stationary silhouettes.

Well, he was accurate at this stage, and knew how to paralyze an opponent, if nothing else.

"How was that?"

---

ENLISTMENT: ACT I

Doug blinked at Thomas Benoit's words. Wait... he knew this. Why had he shot for the knees?

Well, there really was no point in thinking about whether a target could get up or act after being shot, no?

... So why target the knees at all, instead of just going for the head?

Doug's brow furrowed slightly. What a silly question- as if he didn't know the answer. His commanding officer had said it, hadn't he? It was why he had set all this up to begin with.

Doug bit the inside of his cheek harshly, setting his brow determinedly before he nodded to Benoit.

"Understood, Sir!" He said.

Shoot for the head. Put them down for good.

The signal was given, and Doug immediately raised the gun and aimed down the sight, finding the head swiftly.

His finger froze over the trigger, and the target moved out of his aim. The youth blinked, teeth grit firmly behind his closed lips.

He had pulled the trigger there. Had tried to, rather. So why...?

55 seconds.

No time to think, find another target, quickly!

His torso swivels and points his weapon at another moving target, finding the head-

His index refuses to pull back. Gritting his teeth harshly, the youth immediately moved the aim ahead of the targets projected path, his aim wobbling. Why could he not shoot?!

50 seconds.

Damn it!

Bang!

The shot sails through the air and misses the targets' head, nailing a sand bag in the distance and drawing a click of the tongue from the youth.

This isn't working...

It goes on for several more seconds. His aim shifts to point to the targets' head, and his finger freezes over the trigger.

20 seconds left, no hits.

Damn it, damn it, damn it.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Hit. Shoulder.

Hit. Kneecap.

Hit. Hip.

Hit. Hit. Hit. Hit. Hit.

No head. No head. No head. No head. No head.

Damn it, damn it, damn it!

Aim properly! It's a bloody manikin! Just- Picture.

A bloody.

Rocket, AND-!

Bang.

Hand.

0 seconds remaining.

"Fuck." Cursed the boy under his breath, the gun dropping down onto the station as he squeezed the bridge of his nose.

---

ENLISTMENT: ACT I

Ease was not the word to describe the youth's state of mind, but he lowered the weapon all the same, engaging the safety before placing it back onto the station.

He turned towards the man as he approached, awaiting the verdict.

"I understand, sir." He said, despondent. Thomas Benoit's words made sense, and Doug agreed with them. But unfortunately, he was incapable of forcing himself to shoot there. They certainly had their piece of the work pie cut out for them.

The youth bit down a flinch at the mention of the chest.

"Yes sir." He managed to say, forcing a nod.

Not as big an issue for him as the head; he had managed to shoot the torso a couple of times during training, though it was certainly not his choice when picking targets.

The youth frowned slightly.

"... What's wrong with me, sir?" None of his fellow privates during bootcamp had seemed to have any issues shooting a blood mannequin in the head. And why should they? It was just a piece of wood. There was nothing to it.

There shouldn't have been anything to it.

But then, what was the point of shooting at a piece of wood? It didn't prepare you for the real thing. That was why he always tried to picture himself as shooting a real person. But... Even if he made that person a Rocket in his mind-

---

ENLISTMENT: ACT I