With a loud crack, the bullet shot out of the barrel.
Penelope didn't even bat an eyelid as she pulled the trigger again, letting loose five more shots in quick succession. The bullets flew like arrows, all zeroing in on the exact same spot. Every single one of the six bullets hit the bullseye dead-on, without an inch of deviation, perfectly clustered in the same place.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of Penelope's lips as she gently lowered her gun. The judge quickly announced the results, leaving the crowd in stunned silence.
"Looks like Miss Penelope's marksmanship has reached new heights. Six perfect hits, scoring a flawless sixty. This has to be her best performance yet!"
"The last time I saw her practice, she hit every target too, but never with such pinpoint precision. She's really outdone herself today."
"She's a true sharpshooter. Sixty points—no one else can touch her score."
"But let's not count out Miss Mira just yet. She did outshine Miss Penelope earlier this morning, after all."
"Being skilled in one area doesn't mean you're a jack-of-all-trades. It's rare to find someone who's great at everything, especially since Miss Mira didn't start off with the same advantages. She doesn't have the same solid foundation."
The crowd buzzed with chatter. Even though everyone knew that the returning Miss Mira couldn't hold a candle to Penelope's shooting prowess, her earlier performance had caught their eyes, shifting the spotlight onto Mirabella.
Even Grady, watching from the surveillance room, couldn't help but feel a pang of nerves. Like a parent hoping their kid would stand out above all others.
"Why are you pushing me?" Jim, sitting in his wheelchair, grumbled, looking flustered.
His knees were about to hit the table in front of him.
"I wasn't..." Grady snapped back to reality, quickly letting go of the wheelchair's handles and chuckling awkwardly. "Just got a bit nervous for Miss Mira."
Jim sighed, "That's my niece."

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