"Bernadette!" Penny said instantly. "She's tiny, but she's got a mean streak. She'd love it." Penny chuckled, the idea clearly starting to appeal to her. "You know, after a week of waitressing at the Cheesecake Factory, shooting at some paper targets sounds kind of amazing. And watching Howard try to act tough with a pistol? That's worth the trip alone."
"Perfect," Elena decided, starting her descent again. "I'll reserve a few lanes for Friday afternoon. We can blow off some steam and then head back here for dinner. I'll tell the boys—it'll give them something to obsess over for the next few days."
The heavy oak door of Dr. Gablehauser's office clicked shut behind Elena with a satisfying, expensive thud. She lingered in the hallway for a heartbeat, her enhanced mind already cataloging the interaction.
She felt a genuine, mild shock. So far she had no experience with this kind of donations – money really moves the world. Seeing money greasing the wheels of bureaucracy was new. She had expected a debate, a negotiation of her credentials, or at least a flicker of academic hesitation. Instead, the "unmovable" bureaucracy of Caltech had simply... melted.
Is it really this easy? she mused, a small, stunned smile playing on her lips. Her sharp mind already shifting the possibilities in her mind. Money allowed more possibilities then she expected. It was like discovering a new law of physics. If the ivory tower of academia was this susceptible, she began to wonder just how much of the world was actually held together by nothing more than the right amount of zeroes.
Her thoughts shifted as she checked her internal clock. Precision came with her rebirth and in a world as dangerous as this one she refused to get comfortable. Gablehauser had assigned her a "guide"—a fellow doctoral student to help her navigate the sprawling layout of Caltech.
Gablehauser had been quite specific. "I will call Miss Jensen to give you a tour," he'd said, waving a hand dismissively as he tucked Elena's check into a drawer. "She can show you around and help you a bit, so for the time you are in the university, you know where to find what and who. Just wait a moment outside, she should be here soon."
Elena didn't have to wait long. The rhythmic clicking of sensible heels echoed down the hallway, and a young woman with a neat ponytail approached. She looked professional, but there was a faint glimmer of curiosity in her eyes as she stopped in front of Elena.
"You must be Elena," she said, offering a polite smile. "I'm Alex Jensen. Dr. Gablehauser asked me to show you the around."
Elena extended a hand, her gaze briefly scanning Alex—noting the slight fatigue behind her eyes and the precision of her movements. "I am. Thank you for taking the time, Alex. I am sure you have enough other things to do."
"You have no idea, there is a reason I am here in between semesters," Alex laughed, a bit ruefully, as she gestured for Elena to follow her toward the main courtyard. "Actually, I was a bit surprised. Usually, the new students get their tour after the welcoming party. How did you manage to get a personal guide before your first day?"
Elena allowed a small, knowing smirk to play on her lips. "I donated a bunch of money, so I could skip some of the mandatory attendences. I not only work on my PhD, but I am also creating a prototype of it and want to patent it before finalizing my PhD."
Alex raised an eyebrow, genuinely impressed. "A patent-track prototype? Most students here are just trying to survive their first semester of TA-ing. What's the focus?"
Elena didn't slow her pace, but her voice took on the sharp, rhythmic cadence of someone who knew their blueprints inside out.
"It's a specialized magnetic motor," Elena explained, her eyes fixed ahead as if she could see the CAD model hovering in the air. "The industry standard relies on external sensors and central processing, which creates a massive I/O bottleneck. If the system has to wait for a central AI to process a collision interrupt, the structural load limits are already exceeded. It's too slow."
Alex nodded slowly. "The latency problem. You're trying to reduce the loop-time?"
"I'm bypassing it," Elena clarified. "I've designed a dual-path control architecture. I'm essentially giving the motor a 'nervous system.' I've integrated a high-resolution magnetic encoder and a bidirectional current-sensing shunt directly onto the control board."
She glanced at Alex to ensure she was following the logic. "I call it the Instinct Layer. Instead of the motor just being a 'dumb' slave to the central computer, the motor controller itself handles micro-corrections in real-time. If there's an anomalous load or some spike or drop, the motor reacts in microseconds to maintain equilibrium—long before the main system even 'knows' there's a problem. It's mechanical proprioception. It doesn't just spin; it feels."
Alex stayed silent for a moment, processing the implications. "So the central AI just handles the intent—where to go—while the motor handles the reflex—how to stay alive while getting there? That's... that's actually brilliant, Elena."
"Thank you," Elena said, a small, satisfied smile appearing. The vibration in Elena's pocket interrupted their walk near the fountain. She excused herself, stepping a few paces away.
"Hey, Penny. Everything alright?"
"Kind of," Penny's voice was casual, though a bit sheepish. "So, Bernadette agreed to come. But I ran into Stuart. We were supposed to go on a date, but... honestly, I think a group thing would be a lot more comfortable. Is it okay if I bring him to the range on Friday?"
Elena's mind flickered through the social outcomes. She had originally wanted an even split of women to balance out the group's dynamic. Stuart's presence would tilt the scales toward the "nerd" hive mind she was trying to navigate.
"It's fine, Penny. Actually, I was just thinking the numbers were a little off anyway. I'll try and bring a reinforcement of my own to keep things even."
She hung up and turned back to Alex, who was enjoying the pause from her studies.
"Alex, I have a proposition for you," Elena started, her tone shifting from student to peer. "My friend Penny just informed me that our Friday evening plans have expanded. She's bringing a date, which leaves us a bit short on the female-to-male ratio. We're heading to a shooting range to blow off some steam. Would you like to join us?"
Alex blinked, surprised. "A shooting range? Honestly, that's a bit out of my lane. Usually, my Friday nights are spent either at a loud student party trying to forget my thesis, or just collapsing on my couch with some takeout."
"Then it's perfect," Elena replied smoothly. "Because after the range, the plan is to collapse on my couch as well. You are more than welcome to join us for that part, too. It'll be a much better class of takeout than whatever you'd order alone."
Alex hesitated, shifting in her position from one arm to the other. "But I've never even held a gun, Elena. I'm not really the 'action' type. I think I'd just be in the way."
Elena stepped closer, her voice dropping into a tone that was both encouraging and unshakably steady. "There's nothing to be afraid of. There will be a professional trainer there to walk you through the basics, and I'll be right next to you the whole time. I know my way around a range—I can promise you it's safer than a high-voltage physics lab if you follow the protocol."
She tilted her head, catching Alex's eye. "Think of the stress you are currently under. Sometimes, the best way to decompress isn't a quiet room; it's a controlled explosion. It can be incredibly cathartic to just focus on a single target."
Alex chewed her lip for a moment, looking between Elena's calm expression and the distant lab buildings. Finally, she let out a long breath. "Okay. If you're sure you can handle a complete novice... I'm in. I could definitely use a new way to decompress."
"That's the spirit," Elena said, patting her shoulder. "Let's exchange numbers to clear the details later."
---
The evening Elena before going for a job knocked on the door of Apartment 4A. She had changed into something practical yet sexy—a subtle shift from "academic" to "sporty." When the door opened, she was greeted by the familiar sight of the four men huddled around the coffee table, surrounded by comic books and half-eaten Thai food.
"Gentlemen," Elena greeted them, stepping inside with an effortless confidence that always seemed to momentarily stall their conversation. "I hope I'm not interrupting."
"Actually, we were debating the gravitational effects on the Flash at terminal velocity," Leonard corrected, quickly standing up and smoothing his shirt. "What's up?"
"I'm planning some decompression on Friday, and wanted to extend an invitation," Elena said. "Penny is bringing a friend from the Cheesecake Factory—Bernadette—and I've invited a doctoral student I met at Caltech today, Alex Jensen. We're heading to the shooting range Friday evening. Do you want to join us?"
The reaction was immediate. Howard and Raj's eyes widened at the mention of three women and firearms, but Sheldon let out a sharp, dismissive huff.
"A shooting range?" Sheldon asked, not looking up from his container of Steamed Dumplings. "Elena, I credited you with a more sophisticated mind. I am a man of science, a theoretical physicist. I am not a Texas blowhorn who finds joy in the primitive combustion of gunpowder and lead."
Elena watched him from the door, her voice calm and enticing. "Are you really not interested in the precision, mechanics, and the execution of it all, Sheldon? Ballistics is just applied physics with very direct feedback."
"It's a cacophonous, dangerous environment designed for people who think 'Yee-haw' is a valid punctuation mark," Sheldon countered, finally looking at her with a look of pure judgment. "Furthermore, Friday is 'Vintage Game Night' accompanied by 'Mandarin Chicken.' To deviate from the schedule for the purpose of exploding tiny bits of metal is not only primitive, it is a logistical nightmare."
"I'll go!" Howard blurted out, already halfway to the coat rack, completely ignoring the Mandarin Chicken. "I have a very steady hand. It comes from years of... precision model building."
"I'm in too," Leonard added, casting a look at the door as if expecting Penny to appear at any second. "It's important to support local business. And, you know, safety. We can show the girls the proper stance."
Raj nodded vigorously, though he remained silent, already mentally calculating the "coolness factor" of him carrying a gun.
"I shall stay here," Sheldon countered, meticulously arranging his various containers of Chinese food in a precise grid. "Friday evening is for Mandarin Chicken and 8-bit conquest. I find the prospect of standing in a drafty room filled with lead vapor to be a poor substitute for the predictability of Missile Command."
He opened his laptop with an air of finality. "I wish you all a very loud, very dirty evening. I, for one, will be enjoying the silence of being right."
The other three, however, were already entering a state of high enthusiasm.
"Don't worry, Sheldon," Howard said, grinning from ear to ear imagining himself on the shooting range surounded by four girls admiring his skills. "We'll bring back the scent of spent brass and victory. It's basically our duty to go. I mean, four women with handguns? Without us, it's just a disaster waiting to happen. They'll need someone who understands the mechanical leverage of a proper grip."
"Exactly," Leonard agreed, trying to look rugged but failing as he adjusted his inhaler in his pocket. "It's a leadership thing. Penny's great, but she probably thinks 'aiming' is just pointing in the general direction of the target. I've logged over a thousand hours in first-person shooters. The muscle memory is practically baked in."
Raj nodded, a goofy, hopeful grin on his face. He was already miming a two-handed shooting stance, pretending to blow smoke off the tip of his finger.
"It's actually a very scientific outing," Howard continued, leaning over the back of the sofa toward Elena. "I might even bring my laser level. You know, to calibrate the sights. The girls are going to be so impressed when they see a real NASA engineer handle a firearm."
Elena watched them with a patient, feline grace. They were like puppies discussing the best way to hunt a bear. As the boys continued to debate which of them was the most "tactical," she caught Raj's eye.
He had started drifting toward the kitchen, in Leonards fridge were always a beer. It was Raj's usual "social lubricant"—the only way he could survive an evening surrounded by Penny, Bernadette, and now Alex and Elena.
She followed him, not aggressively, but with a firm, quiet presence that stopped him in his tracks. "Raj, a word?"
He froze, looking at her with wide, silent eyes, his hand halfway to the cabinet handle.
"I know Friday might feel a bit overwhelming," Elena said softly, ensuring the others—who were now arguing over whether a 9mm had more stopping power than a phaser set to kill—were out of earshot. "But we are going to a live-fire range. Alcohol and guns are a catastrophic combination. I need you to stay sharp. We'll all respect your silence, Raj. You don't need to perform for us. But there will be a supervisor, so if he sees you drunk, they will not let you onto the range."
Raj blinked, his shoulders dropping slightly.
"Think of this as training," she encouraged. "Getting used to being in the room is the first step. And afterwards," she added with a small, knowing smile, "I'll be hosting everyone at my place for the 'collapse' phase. As you know, I have a very well-stocked bar there. You can have a drink in a safe environment once the guns are locked away."
Raj gave a small, appreciative nod. The panic in his eyes was replaced by a sense of being understood—a rare feeling for him in a room full of people.
"Excellent," Elena said, turning back to the group. "Then I suggest you 'tactical experts' finish your chicken. I'll see you on Friday."
---
The girls had made a pact to drive together, leaving the boys to their own devices. Penny's car was filled with a mix of nervous energy and excitement as they pulled into the parking lot of the "Sharp Shooter" range.
"I'm telling you," Penny said, "don't let the guys get in your head. They're going to spend the whole night talking about math and... I don't know, 'science-y' ways to pull a trigger until your ears bleed. Just ignore them. Half of them couldn't hit the broad side of a barn if they were standing inside the barn."
"I hope so," Alex said, gripping her bag. "Elena's been a calming influence, but walking into a room full of gunpowder with Howard Wolowitz feels like a safety violation in itself."
"Don't worry," Bernadette added, checking her lipstick in the visor mirror with a calm, practiced air. "My dad was a cop. If these guys start acting like they're the stars of an action movie, I'll just treat them like my father treated the dates I brought home, as annoying suspects about to go to jail."
Elena, sitting in the back with her locked case, gave a sharp, confident nod. "Let them talk. Performance is the only metric that matters tonight."
The four women entered the range like a unified front of "sporty-chic," instantly drawing the eyes of every hobbyist in the lobby. The air was thick with the industrial tang of gun oil and the sharp, metallic scent of burnt powder.
Leonard, Howard, and Raj were already clustered by the rental counter, leaning back with a forced casualness. As the girls approached, Howard nudged Leonard, whispering loudly enough to be heard, "See? I told you. Once they see us handle some heavy machinery, the whole power dynamic shifts. It's primal."
But their "alpha" moment was short-lived. From the shadows of the vending machine area, a pale, spindly figure emerged. Stuart was wearing a multi-pocketed utility vest so oversized it looked like he was hiding inside a canvas tent.
Leonard's face dropped. "Stuart? What are you doing here?"
"Hi guys." Stuart greeted all, turning to Leonard he continued "Penny invited me," his voice carrying its signature weary hopefulness as he looked toward her. "I asked her out for coffee, but she said she'd prefer something more unusual. I figure if I can show some... masculine competence today, I might earn an upgrade to a solo dinner."
He tried to straighten his posture, though his shoulders remained stubbornly slumped under the weight of the vest. "I've been practicing all week with one of the Batman water pistols from the shop. I actually managed to hit a spider on the wall from six feet away. It didn't die, but it looked very confused."
Leonard's jaw tightened. The word 'date' had clearly hit a nerve. "Water pistols, Stuart? Really? This is a gun range, not a 'Super Soaker' party. There's real recoil, real weight, and real physics involved. It's not about wetting an insect; it's about controlling a mechanical explosion."
"Exactly," Howard chimed in, stepping up beside Leonard to puff out his chest for Bernadette and Alex. "It's about core strength and a fundamental understanding of ballistics. Lucky for you ladies, you have three experts here to guide you... and, well, you also have Stuart."
Raj stayed a step behind the bickering duo, catching Elena's eye. He offered her a small, sober nod of acknowledgement—the look of a man who was staying strictly on the "no-alcohol" path she had laid out for him.
Elena stepped forward, her calm presence acting like a cold splash of water on the boys' heated bickering. She scanned the group, her gaze lingering just a second too long on Stuart's ridiculous vest.
"Is the posturing finished?" she asked, her voice smooth and authoritative. "Because the lanes are reserved, the instructor is waiting, and I am looking forward to see if your 'masculine competence' exists outside of the realm of fantasy."
The boys fell into an awkward, shuffling silence as Elena led the way toward the heavy, reinforced double doors at the back of the lobby. As they approached, the muffled thud-thud-thud of active fire began to vibrate through the floorboards, making Alex jump slightly.
Just outside the entrance to the shooting bays, they were met by a burly man who looked like he had been carved out of a block of granite. He wore a tight black polo shirt with "INSTRUCTOR" embroidered on the chest, and his eyes had the weary, watchful look of someone who had seen far too many people try to hold a gun sideways.
"Group of eight?" he grunted, his voice a low gravelly rumble that silenced Leonard mid-sentence.
"Yes," Elena replied, not missing a beat. "I spoke with you on the phone. Elena and company."
"Right. I'm Miller," he said, grabbing a stack of heavy-duty earmuffs and plastic safety glasses from a rack. He began handing them out with mechanical efficiency. "Follow me. Keep your mouths shut and your eyes on me until I'm done talking. If you can't follow the rules, you can go back to the lobby and play with the vending machines."
He led them through the sound-lock doors and into the range proper. The air was cooler here, thick with the smell of cordite and the mechanical whir of target carriers. Miller stopped them behind a yellow safety line and turned to face them, his expression as stern as a drill sergeant's.
"Listen up," Miller began, his eyes locking onto Leonard, who was currently struggling to untangle his earmuffs like they were a puzzle box. "There are four rules in this house. If you break one, I yell. If you break two, you're out. Rule one: every weapon is always loaded..."
"Standard operating procedure, of course," Howard interrupted, nodding sagely at Bernadette. He leaned in and whispered loudly, "Don't be intimidated, Bernie. It's mostly just liability talk for the amateurs. If you get confused by the technical jargon, just look at me. I've got you."
"I'm not confused, Howard," Bernadette replied, her voice flat.
Miller's jaw tightened, but he continued. "Rule two: Never point the muzzle at anything you aren't prepared to shoot."
"Basically the law of directed energy," Leonard chimed in, adjusting his glasses and looking toward Penny. "It's all about the vector. If you need help with your sight alignment later, Penny, I can explain the parallax effect for you."
"Leonard, I've been shooting cans off fences since I was six," Penny muttered, snapping her safety glasses into place. "I think I can find the big paper man."
Miller let out a long, weary sigh. "Rule three: Keep your finger off the trigger until your sights are on the target. Rule four: Be sure of your target and what is beyond it. Now, pick up your earmuffs and glasses. I'll let you warm up with five rounds each just to see if you can handle the kick. Lanes three and four. Go."
The boys scrambled to the benches, eager to show off. Howard spent more time checking his "cool" silhouette in the reflection of the lane divider than actually aiming. Leonard's first shot was so startling to him that he nearly dropped the gun, and Stuart's shot went so wide it clipped the target carrier of the lane next to them.
Elena had been lounging against the back wall, arms crossed, watching the boys' clumsy attempts at posturing with an expression of mild, feline amusement. She watched Leonard fumble with a jammed casing and Howard try to explain "recoil compensation" to a visibly annoyed Bernadette.
When she finally stepped forward, the atmosphere in the lane shifted. Her presence was suddenly much larger than her physical frame.
"You all seem very confident in your superior skills," Elena said, her voice cutting through the sharp smell of gunpowder. She stepped away from the back wall, her presence commanding the lane. "In that case, let's make it interesting. A bet. Girls against boys. The winning group gets to set a challenge for the losers. Let's say the losers serve the winners for the rest of the evening... as maids."
Howard turned around, a smirk plastered on his face despite the fact that his own warm-up target looked like it had been shredded by a confused bird.
"A bet?" Howard laughed, leaning against the divider with unearned confidence. "Elena, you have to realize the sheer statistical impossibility of your victory. We have thousands of years of evolutionary refinement to become the apex hunter encoded right into our DNA. It's practically unfair."
He stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with a sudden, mischievous idea. He lowered his voice, playing it like he was giving them a fair warning.
"Look, I'll take the bet. But if we're doing this, we're doing it right. I want to raise the stakes. If you're going to serve us for the evening, you don't just do it in your street clothes. The losers have to wear the appropriate maid outfits. Frills, lace, the little white aprons... the whole 'Victorian Service' aesthetic. No exceptions. Are you sure you want to risk that? You still can chicken out, you know?"
"Howard, wait—" Leonard hissed, his eyes widening as he looked at Penny, then back at Howard. "Appropriate outfits? I am not so sure we win easily. Do you know how much I don't want to see Stuart in lace? Or be in lace? In front of them?!" Leonard's eyes darted toward the girls; he was clearly calculating the odds and finding them uncomfortably slim.
"Relax, Leonard," Howard whispered back, though his voice carried easily over the muffled bangs from the next lane. "Look at them. Alex is shaking so hard she's practically vibrating, and Bernadette is five feet tall—the recoil alone will probably send her stumbling back."
He glanced at Penny, then his eyes landed on Elena with a dismissive smirk.
"And Elena?" Howard scoffed, leaning closer to Leonard's ear. "She spends all day long either in her lab, tinkering or studying. Where should she have gotten experience with a gun? She probably thinks a 'magazine' is something you read at a hair salon. She's too busy being 'sophisticated' to know how to handle a piece of hardware like this. Just imagine Penny bringing you a beer in a ruffled apron and a little lace headband. Focus on the prize, man! It's biological destiny!"
Leonard hesitated, his common sense screaming at him to stop, but the mental image Howard had planted—combined with his own desperate desire to look "cool" in front of Penny—finally won out.
"Fine," Leonard muttered, straightening his glasses with a trembling hand. "But if I end up in a petticoat, I'm never speaking to you again."
Raj looked back and forth between them, his eyes wide. He gave a small, worried tug at his sweater vest, clearly picturing himself in lace and finding the image deeply distressing, but he stayed silent, trapped by the group's momentum. Stuart, meanwhile, looked like he was contemplating a graceful exit.
"I don't know, guys," Stuart wheezed, adjusting his heavy utility vest. "The last time I wore a skirt for a dare, I got a very specific type of rash. And my dignity is already at a historic low."
"Zip it, Stuart!" Howard snapped, waving him off. "This is for Penny's honor. And our victory."
Meanwhile, on the girls' side, the air had turned ice-cold. Howard hadn't been nearly as quiet as he thought, and the "hair salon" comment had reached Bernadette's ears.
"Oh, I am so in," Bernadette squeaked with a terrifying, high-pitched intensity. She gripped her pistol case like she was ready to go to war. "I already have some very specific ideas for what 'service' entails, Howard."
Penny grinned, "count me in. I will keep my maid busy, that I promise."
Alex was the only one who hesitated, her hands tucked deep into her denim jacket pockets. "Elena, I've never even fired a gun. I'm not sure I should be betting my dignity on this. I don't even know where one gets a maid outfit on a Friday night."
"Don't worry about the logistics," Howard called out, overhearing her. "The comic book store is right next to a 24-hour theatrical costume shop. They have plenty of lace in the right sizes. It's practically destiny."
Elena leaned in close to Alex, whispering so only she could hear. "Ignore Howard's nonsense about 'apex hunters.' Penny grew up on a farm—she knows how to hit what she aims at. And as for me?" She gave Alex a wink that was both comforting and slightly chilling. "I don't need 'predatory DNA.' I am a great shot. If you miss, I will simply make sure my shots are precise enough to carry the score for both of us. You have nothing to lose, Alex. But they are about to lose everything."
Alex looked at the boys, who were already high-fiving as if the victory was a foregone conclusion. She looked back at Elena's unshakable, predatory gaze and straightened her shoulders.
"Okay," Alex said, her voice gaining strength. "Let's do it."
Elena stepped forward and caught the attention of Miller, who had been leaning against a pillar with his arms crossed, watching the group with professional skepticism.
"Miller," Elena said, her voice clear and commanding. "We've settled on the stakes of a wager. We would be honored if you would act as the official judge. Fresh targets for everyone, ten rounds per person, scored by the rings. No disputes, no excuses."
Miller pushed off the pillar, a small, grim smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He liked the precision of her request. "You got it, lady. Everyone behind the line."
Miller stepped between the two lanes, his presence like a human bulkhead. With a series of mechanical whirs, he sent eight fresh targets down the tracks. "Lanes are hot," he barked. "Five shots per round. Head-to-head. Lane Three is the Ladies, Lane Four is the Gentlemen. Who's leading off?"
Round 1: Alex vs. Howard
"I'll go," Howard said, stepping forward with a swagger. He looked over at the girls' side. "Why don't you send up the rookie first? Alex, was it? Don't be nervous; the loud noise only lasts a second."
The girls huddled around Alex. She was visibly trembling. "I don't think I can do this," she whispered. Elena placed a firm, grounding hand on her shoulder. "Ignore him, Alex. Just feel the weight. Let the machine move. Find your rhythm."
Alex stepped up, her hands shaking. Across the barrier, Howard was striking a "tactical" pose he'd seen in a Bond movie.
Howard fired. He spent more time posing than aiming, but his shots landed in a loose circle around the 7 and 8 rings. Alex, still flinching from the noise, hit the very bottom of the silhouette.
Score: Howard: 35 | Alex: 15. The boys erupted in cheers. "Apex hunters for the win!" Howard crowed, high-fiving Raj. "Don't feel bad, Alex! Some people just aren't built for the 'crunch' of combat!"
Round 2: Bernadette vs. Leonard
"Bernadette, show them what a cop's daughter does," Penny cheered.
Leonard stepped up against Bernadette. He was trying to use a wide, cinematic stance, but he kept adjusting his glasses as they fogged up. Bernadette, meanwhile, ignored the boys entirely. She was so small she almost disappeared behind the bench, but she planted her feet with fierce intent. "Come to mama," she squeaked.
Leonard squeezed the trigger; the gun jumped, and his shots drifted high. "The sights are off!" he muttered. Bernadette, however, braced against the recoil perfectly. She fired a tight, angry cluster into the upper chest.
Score: Leonard: 30 | Bernadette: 32. The girls roared. Howard scolded Leonard, "You're letting a girl who buys clothes in the 'toddler' section tie you? Focus, Leonard!"
Round 3: Penny vs. Stuart
Stuart moved to the lane, adjusting his oversized vest. Being "on a date" with Penny made him a nervous wreck. His hands shook so hard the barrel of the gun danced. "It... it doesn't have the same balance as a water pistol," he whispered dejectedly.
Penny didn't even bother with a fancy stance. She stood with one hip cocked, blew a stray blonde hair out of her face, and began a rhythmic bang-bang-bang.
Stuart's shots missed the paper entirely, hitting the rubber backstop with dull thuds. Penny, however, punched five clean holes through the "10" ring.
Score: Stuart: 5 | Penny: 48. The lead swung violently to the ladies. "Nebraska," Penny said, winking at a gaping Stuart. "We don't have much to do besides shoot at stuff and wait for the corn to grow."
Round 4: Elena vs. Raj
It all came down to the final pair. The atmosphere shifted, the jovial mocking of the previous rounds dying away into a heavy, expectant silence. Raj stood at Lane Two, his knuckles white as he gripped his pistol. He looked like he was holding a live snake, his eyes wide behind his safety goggles. He was the boys' final hope.
Elena stepped up to Lane Three. She didn't bother with a standard tactical stance. She took her weapon with only her right hand, blading her body to the target with a terrifying, predator-like elegance. She didn't look like a student; she looked like an apex predator at rest.
She looked at Raj and gave him a slow, chilling wink.
Raj actually shot well. He had the steadiest hands of the group, his breathing disciplined. He landed a decent group in the 9-ring, a performance that would have won him any other bet.
Elena didn't immediately fire. She felt the weight of the gun, the familiar tension of the slide. In her mind's eye, she saw the trajectory—not as a straight line, but as a fluid, bendable arc. Her muscles twitched with the instinctual urge to give the barrel that sharp, sideways flick—the signature move that would send the bullet spiraling around a corner.
Not here, she reminded herself. Not in front of a room full of physicists who would notice the impossible ballistics.
Instead, she suppressed her reflex, channeling that superhuman precision into raw, mechanical speed. She fired five shots. It wasn't a bang-bang-bang. It was a mechanical, rapid-fire cadence that sounded like a single, rolling roar.
The kinetic shock caused a visible, heavy jive through her frame—a display of raw, suppressed power that made the floorboards under her boots hum. She didn't fight the recoil; she rode it, using the energy to reset the barrel with surgical speed.
When the target whirred back, the group gasped. The guys leaned in, Leonard adjusting his glasses as if he didn't believe his own eyes.
Elena hadn't just hit the center. She had used five bullets to "draw" a perfect, tiny smiley face—two eyes and a curved mouth—directly inside the one-inch "X" ring. To the guys, it looked like a display of world-class marksmanship. To Elena, it was a frustratingly simple exercise in restraint.
Score: Raj: 40 | Elena: 50 (Perfect).
"That..." Leonard stammered, his voice cracking. "Is that even possible? The grouping... the heat expansion on the barrel alone should have caused a drift of at least—"
"It's not impossible," Elena interrupted, securing her weapon with a smooth, practiced motion. "It's just discipline. Something Howard seemed to lack when he suggested our little... 'immersiIt all came down to the final pair. The atmosphere shifted, the jovial mocking of the previous rounds dying away into a heavy, expectant silence. Raj stood at Lane Two, his knuckles white as he gripped his pistol. He looked like he was holding a live snake, his eyes wide behind his safety goggles. He was the boys' final hope—the only one who hadn't succumbed to a "panic-misfire."
Elena stepped up to Lane Three. She didn't bother with a standard tactical stance. She took her weapon with only her right hand, blading her body to the target with a terrifying, predator-like elegance. She didn't look like a student; she looked like an apex predator at rest.
She looked at Raj and gave him a slow, chilling wink.
Raj actually shot well. He had the steadiest hands of the group, his breathing disciplined. He landed a decent group in the 9-ring, a performance that would have won him any other bet.
Elena didn't immediately fire. She felt the weight of the gun, the familiar tension of the slide. In her mind's eye, she saw the trajectory—not as a straight line, but as a fluid, bendable arc. Her muscles twitched with the instinctual urge to give the barrel that sharp, sideways flick—the signature move that would send the bullet spiraling around a corner.
Not here, she reminded herself. Not in front of a room full of physicists who would notice the impossible ballistics.
Instead, she suppressed the "Wanted" reflex, channeling that superhuman precision into raw, mechanical speed. She kept the curve internal—just enough of a wrist snap to compensate for the wind from the range's ventilation system, but not enough to defy the laws of gravity.
She fired five shots. It wasn't a bang-bang-bang. It was a mechanical, rapid-fire cadence that sounded like a single, rolling roar.
The kinetic shock caused a visible, heavy jive through her frame—a display of raw, suppressed power that made the floorboards under her boots hum. She didn't fight the recoil; she rode it, using the energy to reset the barrel with surgical speed.
When the target whirred back, the group gasped. The guys leaned in, Sheldon adjusting his glasses as if he didn't believe his own eyes.
Elena hadn't just hit the center. She had used five bullets to "draw" a perfect, tiny smiley face—two eyes and a curved mouth—directly inside the one-inch "X" ring. To the guys, it looked like a display of world-class marksmanship. To Elena, it was a frustratingly simple exercise in restraint.
Score: Raj: 40 | Elena: 50 (Perfect).
"That..." Leonard stammered, his voice cracking. "That's statistically impossible. The grouping... the heat expansion on the barrel alone should have caused a drift of at least—"
"It's not impossible," Elena interrupted, holstering her weapon with a smooth, practiced motion. "It's just discipline. Something Howard seemed to lack when he raised the stakes."
Final Total: Ladies: 145 | Gentlemen: 110.
Miller looked at his clipboard, then at the guys, who were standing in a row like a group of scolded schoolboys. He let out a short, dry laugh.
"Well," Miller grunted, clicking his pen. "I can't say that result surprises me at all. Most of the 'Apex Hunters' I see in here are usually the first ones to flinch when the slide cycles. You ladies, on the other hand... nice work."
Elena calmly engaged the safety, locked the slide back, and set the weapon down with practiced grace. She turned to her team, her eyes sparking with triumphant mischief, before letting her gaze drift over the stunned faces of Leonard, Howard, Raj, and Stuart.
"Don't look so downtrodden, gentlemen," Elena said, her voice smooth and teasing. "Perhaps the outcome was inevitable. Or perhaps," she added, her smile widening, "you all secretly just really like the feel of lace? Subconsciously, of course."
"I most certainly do not!" Leonard squeaked, though his voice was an octave higher than usual.
Elena chuckled and stepped closer to them, her expression shifting from playful to authoritative. "Joking aside, I'm sure you are all men of your word. You were very confident in your 'evolutionary DNA' earlier; I assume that includes the honor required to settle a bet."
She checked her watch, a sharp, elegant movement.
"My apartment is currently far too organized to provide a proper challenge for your skills," Elena noted, "so we shall congregate at Penny's."
"Hey!" Penny protested with a laugh, though she didn't deny it.
"You are in charge of your own costuming," Elena continued, looking at Howard. "I trust you didn't lie but I suggest you hurry. We'll see you in one hour at Penny's apartment. And remember," she added, her voice dropping to a mock-serious tone, "you did specify appropriate outfits. If you show up in your street clothes, the penalty will be... significantly more creative."
As the girls began to head for the exit, already debating whether the boys should start with the windows or the bathroom, the four men remained rooted to the spot.
"One hour," Penny called out over her shoulder, winking at Leonard. "And Stuart? Make sure you you look good while being on a date with me."