legionworld | bang bang shoot shoot

Entry tags:

bang bang shoot shoot

Who| North and Tucker, later open to others
What| Range time
Where| The shooting range
When| After Resistance is Futile
Warnings/Notes| Firearms, Tucker-standard double entendere cautions

[Closed to Tucker]

After the adrenaline of the mission, North's ready to relax - which, more often than not, means going back to routine as much as he can, as soon as he can. Showing a sim trooper around his rifle is hardly routine, but range time is, and there is something easy and almost nostalgic around the low-pressure act of blowing through ammunition with absolutely nothing on the line but vague intentions to keep improving.

He's there ten minutes before they're due to meet, out of his armor, gear in a long case tucked under his arm. Just enough time to put out some targets and get set up, he imagines.

[Open]

Maybe there's something infectious in the more constructive (or at the very least highly non-competetive) range time with Tucker. North's still there as much as he ever was, keeping sharp, but he's more likely to strike up a conversation, rather than get in, do his practice, and move on to the next item on the daily training schedule. After about a week of this he even puts up a standing notice near the entrance, around the time of his usual afternoon practice, which advertises the time slot as Unranked Marksmanship League. Not that he's actually going to point it out to York, but maybe there's something to his whole 'not everything has to be a competition' theory.

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It feels damn good to have a rifle in his hands again.

Not that he doesn't appreciate his new bag of tricks, but they're not the old friend a sniper rifle is. They don't give the same satisfaction as seeing a moving target a klick away, and knowing he can hit it.

That certainty and the skill behind it is a point of justified pride. They took two decades of hard work to build, and at the risk of sounding conceited, there aren't many people who can do what he can do at long range.

The rifle he's picked out is a little awkward - unfamiliar and more tailored to human arms than turian ones. Using it though, that's as natural as breathing. The first shot is a little off center - not wide enough to miss, but not in the middle of the head like he'd hoped.

He takes a breath, adjusts, and hefts the rifle again.

The rest of the clip hammers into the target in a tight grouping - one after the other, right between the eyes.

Edited 2017-08-30 20:09 (UTC)

North knows that his own self-inflicted rules discourage competition. And that comparison leads to competition very, very easily. Still, he gives a long, low whistle once the last round whiffs through the punched-thin point in the target, pausing on his way back to his own lane.

"All that and an insightful film critic," he comments wryly, eyeballing the distance of the target with a faint lift of his eyebrows. Damn.

Garrus lays down the rifle and turns, offering North what's probably a smile. Hard to tell.

"The last one is more of a hobby," he replies, the jovial tone clear in his voice.

If Widowmaker was one to clap and applaud the efforts of others (and mean it honestly), she would have after Garrus finished. Instead, she watched and nodded to herself. She'd already known he was an excellent shot, but seeing it in person was more enlightening. Video footage limited what she could see, things such as stance, breathing and any pull.

When the turian collected his target and replaced it with a fresh one, he'd find her with her arms resting on the rail, chin pillowed on them, observing him. She didn't have Widow's Kiss with her, but that's because she wasn't there to shoot. Why take the sport out of this for the others?

If she'd said that out loud, the non-competitive aspect of this little get together probably would have gone out of the window. It'd be friendly competition, of course, but Garrus has a reputation to uphold.

He wasn't that surprised to see her there. He hadn't exactly expected it, but he certainly wasn't surprised by it. Nor was he particularly surprised at fact that cool, amber eyes seemed to clock everything about him - weighing, measuring, dissecting. It was slightly unsettling - a running theme with a lot of things about her, really - but he expected it.

"Not joining in on the fun?" He asks, walking back towards her.

It wasn't really fun without live targets, but Widowmaker kept that thought to herself. Instead she simple shook her head, her hair loosely braided back instead of in a rigid ponytail. She almost looked like a normal girl, if not for her skin tone and those piercing cold eyes of hers.

"Some things are better left as mysteries," she replied.

He arches an eyebrow and chuckles as he lifts one leg over the railing, and then the other.

"Well. Now I really want to see what you can do." He says, picking up his rifle. He doesn't quite offer it, but he doesn't immediately shoulder it. He lingers, giving her an opportunity to say something, to reach out and take it, whatever.

"Perhaps some day you will," she said with a smile. "But not today. It would ruin the spirit of this little club."

Because it was impossible for Widowmaker to not be competitive. It had always been a part of her, from the rigors of ballet to her training with Talon to her ascension as a sniper. She knew she was the best - unless someone was assisted by superpowers like Locus was - and she didn't need to prove that to anyone.

And she'd learned her lesson about showing off thanks to a still-living Ana Amari.

He shrugs, casual but clearly disappointed as he takes a knee and shoulders the rifle.

"I'm going to hold you to that," He replies without looking away from his scope. Then, he squeezes the trigger and puts another round into the center of the target. He can play nice, but she's not the only one with a competitive streak. Just like her, the things he can do with a rifle in his hands are something he takes a lot of pride in. He's damn good. He knows he's one of the best out there, and he loves the opportunity to prove that.

It isn't often he has someone who presents a challenge, and he'd hate to get lazy.

"I would suggest paying attention during missions, but really, you should not be focused on my shooting at that time."

There was no consideration to keep quiet while Garrus took his shot. Any sniper worth their salt could maintain accuracy during casual conversation. "But maybe I will be nice and let you take a look at Widow's Kiss. Not shoot it, of course, but get to take a look. Do you have conversion rifles in your world?"

Edited (whoops) 2017-09-21 04:44 (UTC)

"I'd need details." Garrus snaps off another shot. "Most of the weapons back home are collapsible. Let's every soldier carry almost any tool they might need to get the job done in a combat zone."

Another shot into the tight grouping.

"If that's what you mean by conversion, yes. Otherwise ..." Fill in the blanks and he can give you a more precise answer.

Collapsible weaponry. That would be useful. Sure, her world had some tech that was getting there with special storage methods, but it was still limited. She had a special means of hooking her rifle to her back when it was in assault mode to allow her hands to be free. Even then, it was still bulky and had to be accounted for.

"That is not the same. I mean a rifle that is capable of switching from one kind to another through an internal mechanism. Widow's Kiss can be either an assault rifle or a sniper rifle. As needed."

That actually gets him to pause momentarily.

"No," Garrus replies. "But that does sound useful."

"No weighting issues? No drop in stopping power?" His eyes are still downrange, but you've definitely piqued his interest.

"Non. It is constructed with a high tech polymer - strong and lightweight. As a sniper rifle it is better than a Kinamura rifle," she replied, quite proud of her chosen weapon. "It does suffer from accuracy while in assault mode, as do most assault rifles." And it chewed through ammo like that. "But it is quite effective."

"Interesting." Garrus looked away from his scope to nod approvingly. His eyes are unfocused, elsewhere as he tries to assemble the rifle in his mind and picture how it works. Then, they focus on her.

"We'll have to compare notes some time."

Perhaps. Talon secrets were not for non-Talon ears, but she wasn't entirely sure if her rifle was a custom Talon model. It could be, for all she knew, but it was hers. But the odds of Garrus causing problems for Talon were low.

"What is your personal rifle like?"

"Ironically, the model was called the Black Widow." He says, mandibles twitching in what could be read as a grin before he sights his rifle again. "Human-made, so the grip was a little awkward, but it packed more than enough punch to make up for that."

He slams another shot into the target.

"Only held three shots before you needed to reload, but one round could cut through almost any shielding a target could have without losing enough velocity to make the shot non-lethal."

"Good taste in names," she replied with a chuckle. "You should see my back tattoo." Her glorious ink wasn't as on display as it used to be since she switched to an older style that didn't expose her back. Usually, only her forearm tattoo was visible.

"How was the rate of fire?" Three rounds and that much power? Widowmaker couldn't imagine it being particularly fast, even for an energy weapon.

He'll pause for a moment, flash her an arched, oh really eyebrow and settle back behind the scope of his rifle.

"Semi-automatic." Another crack of his rifle. "Nothing amazing, but better than the heavier, single-shot variant."

She's here because of North - plain and simple. Even she needs a break, though, from all these ghosts of her past, and so she wanders down the range, observing the other people here.

She pauses when she sees Garrus - somewhat familiar to her, she remembers him from before the mission to the other worlds - and she folds her arms, watching him line up his shots.

The first one is good. The rest are even better. When he's finished?

She gives a little whistle and a couple claps of her hand.

He's pretty satisfied with his handiwork himself. Content, but always open to having an audience.

He glances over his shoulder, nods appreciatively, and lays down his rifle.

"I feel like I've seen you around."

Though, he'd be the first to admit, he has juuuust a little bit of difficulty telling humans apart ... He could be wrong.

Carolina smirks a little bit.

"You were with Shepard. The redhead from the Public Relations tour, but you decided to stay back."

Which is Carolina for: that's where she's seen you from. But, she offers a little wave of her hand.

"Carolina."

"Garrus." He replies, turning around to face Carolina and leaning back on the rail.

"How did that go, by the way?"

"About as well as a public relations tour in a bunch of alien galaxies with a looming universal threat is wont to go," she notes with a wry tone. "That is - someone wasn't happy."

She waves a hand around, as if that kind of thing is normal.

For him at least? It actually is.

"A lot of people wearing plastic smiles and polishing gizzard in the hopes that they get what they want out of the deal." He nods, sounding just disgusted enough to suggest he's been around that particular block a few times.

"Yeah, exactly - though there wasn't any gizzards involved as far as I know," she says, a hint of amusement in her tone.

"Don't think miss Director really thought of it that way."

"Sucking up, then." He replies with a chuckle. At least he thinks that's the human expression. "Though, now I'm curious about how she thought of it."

"Oh, lot of schmoozing and schmaltzing. I was there to look intimidating," she teases. "As for her - she seemed okay. Didn't like the tiff we got involved in at the end I think."

"Because nothing can ever just go smoothly." There's a wry edge to the joking complaint, and it's followed by an expectant pause. You gonna tell him what happened or does he have to dig through the after-mission report?

~~Hey, look, Garrus: here’s a target now.~~

Tucker strolled in without a gun, without much of anything, really; the armor was left behind for some civilian clothes because shooting would be a lot easier without it, right? The sword, deactivated, was at his hip, just a hilt that wasn’t on and wouldn’t look like much of anything. A smile crossed his lips as he eyed up and down the range; someone had to be here, firing. All Tucker needed to do was go and harass them enough to let him shoot their gun, too.

Someday, this practice would get old, boring, would become work. There was going to be a time when it wasn’t a warm bitter reminder of Church, that twisted his heart up painfully and warm.

Today wasn’t going to be that day.

Tucker walked up to Garrus, tried not to think about the similarities and differences that he had with the aliens he was all-too-accustomed with, and leaned against the wall.

“You missed,” he chided with a smirk on the first shot. Granted, the smirk fell and his eyes widened as he watched all of the clip’s remainder hit home; those words were sour as he swallowed them back down.

“Um…yeah, nevermind.”

There's an amused twitch of his mandibles as Tucker pipes in after the first shot, and that grin only grows as shot after shot slams into the center of the target's head.

"Don't feel too bad," Garrus says over his shoulder before laying down the rifle against the railing and turning to face Tucker. "This was most of what I did on a day-to-day basis at home."

He pauses before adding, "Granted the targets were usually moving and shooting back, but ... details."

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