FOREFRONT by NOVAGIRL RATED FRC

Gordon enjoys a hobby that doesn't involve water.

It was the sort of stillness that drove him mad.

Neither the stillness of the waves, the gentle motions of water and the life beneath the surface, nor the silence of a fire late at night could compare to this. It was beautiful-but all too deadly.

He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. His sweater was itching--that colour of blue really did nothing for him, he despaired. The itch and the heat didn't help one bit, but it was the customary gear for today's work.

He usually got such joy from this, too.

He reached behind him, feeling cold metal slide against his hand. This couldn't fail him-it hadn't before, in all his times of need, and it couldn't now. Sweat from his hand slid along the cool surface, making it hard to get a grip on the the handle. He swallowed slowly, feeling far too tense.

Just relax, Gordon-my-boy, and it'll all work out in the end. You know the score.

The thought did nothing to relax him. In fact, the beads of sweat merely conferred with one another on his skin--where to meet up, the best angle to get into his eye...

"Hurry up, Gordon! We don't have all day!", He could hear Scott calling and he sucked in a breath. Good ol' impatient Scott.

He tried on his trademark smile again, and made up his mind right then. There would be no more holding back-who knew the costs if he did? The metal caught the light as he raised his arms--

And then the shot rang out, breaking the summer wind.

Gordon felt his eyes widen as he witnessed what he had unleashed, listening to the pitches and volleys of the ricochet. There was only one thing to say to that.

"FORE!"

Oh, yes, Gordon thought with a smirk. Pebble Beach would forever rue the day that Gordon Tracy came to golf.