Emma was very curious about this wealthy man—what did he look like? Stepping out of the office, she was surprised to see that he was actually quite handsome. Her first impression of him was very positive.
She ran a hand through her hair, then approached Mavi with a greeting. "Hey, handsome. Do you prefer big guns or small guns? Pick two."
A woman who plays with guns is definitely fiery, and she speaks just as boldly—especially someone like Emma, a shooting instructor.
Mavi chuckled and replied, "Of course, big guns." Then, raising his right hand, he went through the rack and picked out all the heavy machine guns one by one.
Emma raised an eyebrow in surprise. In a shooting club, the most expensive cost wasn't the rental fee but the ammunition. For instance, a single 7.62×51mm round cost about $2.
Considering that a twin-barrel M3 machine gun could fire at a rate of 2,000 rounds per minute, just a few minutes of firing could max out an average person's credit card! Let alone spending an entire afternoon—he could buy multiple cars with that money.
"Mr. Mavi, please sign here," said the club owner, a tall middle-aged man named Mike.
Before any customer could enter the shooting range, Mike required them to sign a waiver—no shooting at people. However, if someone were unfortunately shot at the range, the club wouldn't be held responsible.
Mavi wasn't too concerned about his personal safety. First, he had rented out the entire range. Second, he was surrounded by Russian bodyguards who could retaliate if necessary—or at the very least, serve as human shields.
After signing the paperwork, Mike instructed the available instructors to move all the weapons Mavi had selected to the open-air range.
There, the club had built an open shooting shed where customers could set up their weapons at the designated shooting benches and fire at the targets in the open field.
Every 30 minutes, the club would replace the targets to ensure they didn't look too riddled with bullet holes and unappealing.
Accompanied by his bodyguards and instructor Emma, Mavi strolled leisurely to the shooting range. He noticed that behind the range, there was a barren hillside, which meant he didn't have to worry about stray bullets hitting bystanders or animals.
Five minutes later, after the instructors had neatly arranged the heavy machine guns and assault rifles in the shed, Emma turned to Mavi with a slight smile and asked, "Shall we begin? Handsome, which gun do you want to try first?"
When it came to firearms knowledge, Emma considered herself more experienced than Mavi's bodyguards. After all, she had grown up surrounded by guns, assembling and disassembling nearly every type of firearm.
"No rush, let's wait a little longer," Mavi said, smiling. He had been waiting for this moment for a long time—he didn't mind waiting another five or six minutes to make his first shot in the U.S. extra special, with the arrival of a certain Mercedes SLR McLaren.
Emma gave him a puzzled look. The weapons were all set up, yet he wasn't eager to start shooting. Was he feeling pressured because so many professional instructors were watching?
The other instructors standing outside the shed had similar thoughts. Since Mavi had booked the range for the entire afternoon, they had nothing else to do but watch.
"It's okay, handsome. If you're not sure which gun to start with, I can guide you. Want to try this SAW light machine gun first?" Emma coaxed him gently. She had taught many men how to shoot for the first time. Once they got hooked, she knew they would love it.
Just as Emma was about to hand Mavi the SAW light machine gun, the once-quiet shooting range was suddenly filled with the sound of approaching wheels.
A sleek black delivery truck slowly rolled into view.
Emma and the other instructors looked on in confusion. What was a truck doing in the club's shooting range?
Inside the truck, the driver's heart pounded as he saw all the heavy weapons and ammunition at the range. He was so nervous that his hands were shaking on the steering wheel.
Mike, the club owner, gestured to the driver, signaling him to pull into the range and unload.
The driver nodded through the windshield but didn't move.
It wasn't that he was a coward—it was just that there were too many heavy weapons around. He was afraid that if he drove in, the people inside might suddenly open fire on him, turning him into a live target.
After sitting frozen in the truck for two minutes, he was finally relieved of his duty as Mavi's bodyguards took over. One of them got behind the wheel and drove the truck into the shooting range before lowering the ramp to begin unloading.
Emma watched the scene, utterly baffled. What was Mavi up to? Bringing a truck to a shooting range—was he dissatisfied with their targets?
Turns out, a woman's intuition is scarily accurate.
Just as Emma was thinking this, the bodyguards unloaded a stunning, all-silver sports car from the truck—a model that looked like the brand-new Mercedes SLR McLaren that had just hit the market this year!
One of the male instructors gasped in disbelief. "Oh my god! A Mercedes SLR McLaren!? Am I seeing this right?" His eyes were filled with shock.
Another instructor quickly chimed in, "That car sells for at least $500,000, right? Why the hell would they bring it here? They're not… planning to use it as a target, are they?"
The moment those words left his mouth, he scared himself.
Using a $500,000 sports car as target practice?! What kind of maniac would do such a thing!?
Just as the instructors were buzzing with shock and disbelief, Mavi's bodyguards drove the delivery truck away, leaving only the lone, silver Mercedes SLR McLaren, dazzling and motionless in the middle of the range.
"Let's start with the M-4 assault rifle," Mavi said with a smile, now that everything was ready.
Emma, still in shock, stared blankly at the sports car. Everything that had just happened felt surreal, like a dream—completely unbelievable…
It wasn't until a few seconds later that she finally snapped out of it. She quickly picked up the M-4 rifle in front of her, still slightly dazed, and began instructing Mavi on how to shoot properly.
As Mavi took the M-4, he immediately felt its weight—a real gun was much heavier than he had imagined. The rifle alone weighed 4 kilograms, and with a 30-round magazine adding another 0.8 kilograms, the total weight was 4.8 kilograms.