Target:One Direction 🔪

Chapter 7: gear up or shut up

"If you don't know how to use a gun, you better learn fast. Or this job might just be your last."

The boys were already in a bad mood. Waking up at the crack of dawn to do more training, only to find out James was dragging them into another round of torture, had everyone groaning. It wasn't like they didn't get the seriousness of the whole situation, but damn, could they catch a break?

Zayn was rubbing his eyes, still half-asleep. "I swear, James, if you make me do push-ups one more time, I'm going to shove that protein shake down your throat."

"I heard that, Turner," James called from the other room, where he was busy making himself a cup of coffee. "But no promises. You guys have been slacking, and you need to be ready for whatever comes next. I'm not gonna baby you."

Niall groaned and flopped down on the couch. "Are we ever gonna do something fun around here? I mean, the last time I had fun was when I was singing for a crowd. This whole 'survival training' thing isn't exactly my idea of a good time."

"You'd rather be shot at in front of an audience than go through this?" Louis teased, sitting up and stretching.

"Hey, at least in front of a crowd, I'm not worried about getting hit in the face with a random bullet," Niall retorted.

Harry raised an eyebrow, his usual charm slipping into place. "Guess I'm the only one enjoying this. All this spy shit is kind of badass."

"You're weird," Liam muttered, rolling his eyes as he stood up to join James in the other room.

James was busy looking over a folder with files on it, his brow furrowed in thought. It looked like he was focused on something important, and the boys couldn't help but be curious. "What's going on, mate? You got some info for us?"

James didn't look up, still flipping through the papers. "Yeah, actually. This isn't just about protecting you boys from getting shot. I've been looking into the threat against you. Whoever's targeting you? They're smart, organized, and they know how to cover their tracks. This isn't just some crazy fan trying to get attention. There's a serious threat out there, and we need to be ready."

Louis, always the skeptic, crossed his arms. "So, you're telling us someone wants to kill us because we're famous?"

"Basically, yeah," James replied, sitting back in his chair and rubbing his eyes. "The higher your profile, the bigger the target you become. But the truth is, no one's going to sit around waiting for you to show up at a concert. They'll come for you wherever they can."

"Great," Zayn muttered under his breath. "So we're supposed to just walk around expecting to be shot at every five seconds? This is a new level of fucked-up."

"Not if you're ready for it," James said, giving them a look that was a little too serious. "That's why we're going to get you boys some proper spy gear, and I'm going to show you how to use it. So no more excuses."

The boys exchanged uneasy glances, but they knew James wasn't kidding around. If anyone knew how to prepare for danger, it was him.

James stood up, walking over to a large table covered in various pieces of equipment—gadgets, guns, knives, and all sorts of high-tech stuff they'd never even seen before. "Here's the deal. This is your survival kit. You need to know how to use everything in front of you, or else, you might as well be walking into the danger zone blindfolded."

"Is that a gun?" Niall asked, squinting at a small black object in James's hand.

"You've got eyes, Steele," James said dryly, tossing it over to him. "But that's not just any gun. It's a silenced pistol. You'll learn how to use it in case you need to take someone out without anyone noticing. You want to be the hero? This is how you do it."

"I'm not shooting anyone," Zayn said, his voice more shaky than he probably intended. "I'm supposed to be the tech guy, not some assassin."

"Just trust me," James said, grinning. "You don't have to kill anyone, but you need to know how to defend yourself. And the only way to do that is to learn."

Zayn took a deep breath and stepped up to the table. "Alright, alright. What else we got?"

"Let's start with some basic training," James said, grabbing a few more gadgets from the table. "This is a mini drone. Perfect for spying or surveillance. You can use it to track someone or just keep tabs on the situation. But if you don't know how to control it, it'll crash before you get anything useful."

Zayn raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on his lips. "I think I got this. You're talking to the tech guy, remember?"

"I know," James replied with a wink. "But we're all learning here, Turner. Let's see how good you really are."

Zayn grabbed the mini drone and started fiddling with the controls, his fingers working quickly as he lifted it off the ground. The drone buzzed to life, hovering just above their heads. The boys watched in awe as Zayn expertly flew it around the room, zooming in on targets, and avoiding obstacles with ease.

"That's some good shit, Turner," James said, clearly impressed. "Alright, now you need to get comfortable with hacking into things in real-time. I've got some systems set up for you to breach."

Zayn smirked again. "This is my playground, James. You'll see."

"Next!" James called, turning to Harry. "Harris, you're up. Time to test your skills in disguise. We're going to give you a few situations to act out, and we'll see how well you can blend in with a crowd."

Harry grinned, already adjusting his jacket. "Alright, mate, this is what I do best."

The training went on like that, with each of the boys getting their turn at testing their skills. James had them running through simulations, using guns, learning how to handle themselves in close combat, and even putting their newfound knowledge to work in real-world scenarios.

After hours of sweating, swearing, and trying not to get killed, James finally called it a day.

"You've done well," he said, wiping his brow. "But this was just the beginning. You've got a lot more to learn, and the next lesson? You better hope you've paid attention."

Zayn wiped his hands on his pants, catching Louis's eye for a split second.

Louis grinned, like always. "Just tell me when we can start shooting people. That's when the fun starts."

"We're not killing anyone unless we absolutely have to," James warned. "Remember, this is about surviving. Not about becoming the next James Bond."

"Yeah, well, I don't know about you, but I'm already feeling like a badass," Zayn quipped.

James chuckled. "You'll get there, Turner. But for now, just remember this: there's no room for mistakes. You've got one shot to get it right, and if you don't, well..." He gave them a dramatic pause. "You don't want to find out."

The boys all stared at each other, the weight of the situation slowly sinking in. This was real. This wasn't just training for fun. It was their lives on the line.

And they couldn't afford to screw it up.