Chapter 1

“Don't think of what you have to do, don't consider how to carry it out" 
"The shot will only go smoothly when it takes the archer himself by surprise.” 

-Eugen Herrigel, Zen in the Art of Archery

The overhead sun was bearing down much hotter than before.

It was normal for the day to be hot during the summer in the month of June. But it was never this hot at mid-day. Bobby snorted a sharp breath in and tugged on his leather glove, checking its fit on his fingers. Although it fits neatly around his hand and tightly on his fingers, it has a secure strap by the wrist area too, but he always checked his glove fitting. It was sort of a good luck thing for him. Competition or not. He then strapped up his synthetic leather arm brace, making sure the short sleeve of his T-Shirt was tucked in properly as well before he'd pick up his custom-made  #80  Compound Bow.

Standing at 1.76 meter (5' 8"), he was an Asian. Chinese to be exact. But since he came from a South-East Asian country named Malaysia, he was much different from the common 'Asians' one would stereotype against. He sucked in virtual games, had average grades and pretty much wasn't as lanky you'd think an 'Asian' would be. Even better, he had superb vision and had rather large eyes. Again against the stereotype of an Asian mostly having squinty, slit-for-eyes. 

But he does not mix well with groups, nor does he have many friends either. Mainly because they consider him 'weird' and awkward. In truth, he was just not the friendly type. An introvert. He considers his custom made bow his only, and one true friend in the new country he just arrived in and had fate throw a curve ball in his face.

His parents had fell in love with the United States of America ever since he had came to the country for a special invitation training camp for talented marksmen all over the world. A week long condition-cum-archery technique training apparently 'opened' the eyes of his two parents to the wonders of America. They decided to migrate and stay in the US. Where he was now, in Fairview City and soon to be getting his citizenship. It was a special rush too, for the government and money-hungry corporate to have a talented Archer that may be their next star in the ever reviving sport of Archery.

With a short breath in, he drew out a carbon shaft Target Point arrow. Exhaling slowly when he hadn't wrongly taken out a Broadhead instead, the type of arrows used for wildlife game hunting. Nocking the arrow on the bowstring, c**k feather out with the shaft rested on the arrow rest in a fluid motion. Just like he had been trained to do to minimize the time and amount of focus to ready an arrow.

Taking another deep breath in. He began his checks, his mind sub-consciously taking note and correcting in a complete second before he would exhale slowly again and take his shot. Like a mechanized and well oiled robot.

Neutral Stance, check.
C**k feather, check.
Nocked, check.
Target distance, estimated, check.

Bobby raised the bow slightly over his head and drew back smoothly. His back muscles obvious as his shirt stuck to his back, wet with perspiration and displaying a set of back muscles only true professionals have. More than enough to draw his bow's 80lbs draw weight.  Anchoring his hand at his chin and aimed down the sights. His bow hand, lax and barely gripping the bow. Loosed the arrow upon the bottom pin (Of the triple pin of his Bow Sights.) sighted above his target by a hair's breadth. 


Zhoop.
Thwack!


The estimation and his mental image of the trajectory came true and the arrowhead landed at the bull's eye with a loud thud on the target paper, held still by cellophane taping it to a block of soft wood. The training most definitely had paid off to him. He wouldn't be hitting a bull's eye 100 meter's away with a target just the size of a 14 inched laptop screen before the conditioning and the technique refinement. 

Smirking inwardly, he set off to get his arrow back from the target and put it back into his 50 arrow capacity hunting quiver. The back of his neck twitched, hair's standing up as if nature was warning him of something. Something very dangerous that is about to steamroll in his life.