Tara Byrne had never been much of her fighter. Growing up, her mother had kept her in the house as much as possible. Her mother had been a gentle person, a learned person through her own mother, and she was determined to pass those gifts down to her duaghter. And so while Gavin spent his days outdoor training his body, his eye, his hand, Tara spent most of her time cooking and reading. She'd abandoned the cooking a decade ago? But since she was a child, she'd devoured every book she could get her hands on- which weren't that many. The classic books from her mother's collection had all been read a dozen times, with her favorites practically falling apart.

She'd trained her mind, and she didn't regret it. Her memory, her critical thinking, her skill with numbers... all of it had helped her rise to her current position. Jack Mezzo was the King of the Pier, and, in her prouder moments, she considered herself a sort of queen-administrator. 

But Gavin was the enforcer, and Tara was getting tired of always being in the background.

She had no illusions about becoming some sort of deadly assassin, but she did have some skills. Her mind, of course. The ability to move quickly and quietly, learned from accompanying her brother on his hunts. And... well that was mostly it. She had some work to do. 

Recently, she'd purchased two guns from jonnythecon, before he'd crashed out of the city. The circumstance was disappointing, but she'd kept the guns. One was a small two shot Derringer, used only in emergencies. The other was a 1931 Fabrique Nationale Baby Browning Pistol, and she was starting to get used to carrying it around. 

She hadn't actually shot it yet. But hey. Baby steps.

***

Wharton State Forest, across the river in New Jersey, was about a 45 minute drive away. In a rare break from her duties, Tara headed out for three days with some rudimentary camping equipment, a trunk full of glass bottles, and multiple boxes of ammunition.

She spent the whole first morning reading about each piece of the gun, taking it apart and putting it back together to understand how it worked. She was like a surgeon dissecting a particular interesting specimen. 

By the time she had learned about the gun, the sun was high in the sky. Gavin had tried to teach her how to shoot a gun several times over the last ten years, but he was, frankly, a shit teacher. What he did had been internalized so much that he could barely explain why he was doing what he was doing. There was also the fact that that man who'd taught Gavin to shoot was a monster- their father. Teaching someone else no doubt awoke the memories of those painful "lessons". 

And so here she was, by herself. The first time, she screamed- and she was thankful that she'd decided to go so far outside the city. Reddening with shame, she continued shooting- all misses.

With a steely look in her eye, she reloaded.

***

For three days, she did almost nothing else. 

Line up bottles. Shoot. Reload. 

Line up. Shoot. Reload.

Line. Shoot. Load.

Over and over, she practice, applying every neuron in her mind to understanding how to effectively line up her shots. 

As the sun set on the third day, she wasn't great. She wasn't even particularly good. But she was now dangerous- and that would have to be enough. 

The call came in when JackMezzo was away on business. It was the middle of the night, and Tara was just getting ready for bed in her office above the East Cat. Her eyes, bleary from paperwork, cleared instantly as she listened to the situation: an associate had gone rogue, taking a shot at an associate of another family. A few moments later, Tara had quickly checked the now empty HQ. Jack and Kodak were out, Gavin was in the hospital...

"I'll take care of it."

She hoped her voice sounded more confident than she felt. 

Tara had loaded, emptied, and reloaded her gun several times since she'd arrived in Seattle. Her supplies were scattered out across her hotel bed as she nervously cleaned her guns. When the phone rang, she jumped, but her voice didn't betray anything as she answered her local information broker. 

When she hung up, her heart was pounding. It was time to move.

A half hour later her cab pulled up to the location in question. It was a bustling spot and she recognized several members of the Seattle underworld. Fleetingly, she hoped to find her friend ChelseaUccello or her husband Fio- but she figured it was better to focus on her business first.

Walking away from the cab, she found the bar in question. The associate would recognize her; it would be better to wait outside. She took up a position near the door, out of sight from those leaving. 

Her purse was slung over her left shoulder, and her right hand gripped the gun within it. 

Gavin would mock her mercilessly right now. But Gavin had been numbed to killing long ago. 

Her breathing froze as her target walked outside. Tara prayed he'd be alone, but wasn't sure what sort of god would listen to her- but one of them did. The target moved, swerving slightly, as he walked toward one of the only cars in the parking lot.

Tara followed him, thankful that she'd remembered to wear soft shoes. When she was a few feet away, her gun was out and ready to fire. Her voice was cold, even as she felt like she was sweating into a puddle.

"You betrayed the family; you had to know what would happen."

Her gun crashed as she pulled the trigger, striking the man in the shoulder. Her second and third shots were wild, until she forced herself to calm down. Her next three shots finished the deed, and she quickly tucked her gun in her bag and moved away through the alleys and streets of Seattle.

She looked shaken, and she walked briskly back towards her hotel. If she looked scared, she can say it was the gunshots that had frightened her- and she wouldn't be lying.