One shot, one... [Open]

[shootingblancs]

Somewhere in the City, there is an impromptu target range set up at the edge of a park - targets draped over various types of available furniture and boxes. Otherwise, however? It looks completely deserted - there isn't a soul in sight.

If you're walking past, you may suddenly see an impact on one of the targets - a shot hits home just outside of the bulls-eye, kicking up fluff and dust as it pierces the target. Where's the gunman, though?

Michael exhaled as he released the trigger from his perch on the third floor of one of the abandoned buildings, checking his aim through the sight on his high-powered sniper rifle. He'd almost hit the bulls-eye. But almost wasn't good enough here. Especially not after Sheryl had been taken hostage by that lunatic - if something had happened to her, what would he have told Alto?

The next time anything like that happened again, he'd put a bullet between the guy's eyes before he could even finishing writing his threats on the comm system. He'd make sure of it.

He exhaled another breath as he returned back to his gun, putting his finger on the trigger, and taking careful aim...

...he fired. Hopefully, the eye-catching bullet-riddled targets would make it obvious enough for people not to run into his range.

Comments

[galacticfairy.livejournal.com]

She settled a little ways behind him on a rusty park bench, humming almost inaudibly as she observed. "You haven't lost it," she chimed in between shots.

[shootingblancs]

"Of course not," he answered almost reflexively as he slowly sighted his crosshairs on the bulls-eye, imagining it was an enemy's headpiece. "Practice makes sure of that. Or does Sheryl Nome not have to do that?"

Careful, careful, focus... fire.

[galacticfairy.livejournal.com]

"Idiot!" she said playfully. "Even the most beautiful flower requires care."

[shootingblancs]

"Until you prick yourself on its thorns," he responded lightly, and then paused before looking back down his gunsight.

"How are you feeling?"

[galacticfairy.livejournal.com]

"Who, me? In top form, obviously."

[shootingblancs]

"Pretty girls shouldn't lie like that, you know." A shot.

[galacticfairy.livejournal.com]

Hmph. So what if this guy had seen her at her sickest? As always, she'd deal with these things herself. "No?"

[shootingblancs]

"Not to someone who can tell, anyway." He ejected the spent magazine before plucking another one from the pile next to him and sliding it home, chambering the round with a satisfying thunk.

[galacticfairy.livejournal.com]

"It's a super-obnoxious talent..."

[fieldpromoted]

The sound of gunfire made cracking echoes off the sides of the buildings in the city and Trudy, true to form, gave herself a derisive little curse as she turned to walk toward the source instead of away.

The sight of the targets off in the distance made her pause, leaning up against the sides of one of the buildings as the center of one of them was shredded out of nowhere with the now-familiar rolling crack.

Sniper.

After that, it was a matter of looking up. The sniper was good, that much was plain from the neat holes stitched through the centers of the targets, but Trudy had spent the last two years spotting archers in the jungle. The third time he fired, she had a pretty good idea where it was coming from - the fourth, and she knew the building.

Light glinted off something in one of the windows, and Trudy turned toward the building. None of the elevators were working, so she trudged up two flights of stairs and down a couple of winding hallways before she nudged open the door to a room and found the blonde from the hangar lying on the floor with his eye to the scope. "World do something to piss you off?" she asked.

[shootingblancs]

Michael turned slightly to look over his shoulder as he ejected the spent bullet, the case clattering to the floor with a metallic ping - it was the other pilot, the one from the hangar. He would have flashed her another grin, but he really wasn't feeling the mood.

"Next time some idiot tries taking a hostage, I'll have a bullet between his eyes before he can say 'power-hungry'." Left unsaid was the fact that the hostage had been a friend of his.

[fieldpromoted]

Well there was a conversation-starter. Not that she wasn't used to bloodthirstiness, but this guy hadn't struck her as the type.

Trudy clinked a little as she strode into the room, a testament of what she had been doing in the first place - taking empty bottles from the beer tree in Hydroponics to Kang's tavern to fill them back up. The beer tree was nice and all, but Kang's ale had body to it.

She sat down near him and slid one of the bottles over to him, lifting the other to her lips. "Kind of hard to believe it was Kawalsky, of all people," she said.

[shootingblancs]

He wasn't the type. Protectiveness, yes. Bloodthirsty, not really. Michael took it, setting it aside for the time being - sniping was made exponentially more difficult under the influence.

"Didn't know him. Any idea why he chose Sheryl?"

[fieldpromoted]

Trudy shrugged. "I guess none of us knew him, not really," she said. "From what I've been getting in debriefing, it was the parasite all along. But he was in the squadron."

The beer dangled from her fingers as she glanced over at him reloading the rifle. "Sheryl- the hostage? No idea. Probably opportunity."

[shootingblancs]

He slid the new magazine home with the practiced ease of a professional. "Guess for him it was just all an act - a waiting game."

Michael raised the rifle again, chambering another round as he put his eyes to the scope. "Wrong place, wrong time? Sounds like her to me."

[fieldpromoted]

She scowled at that, twisted around and spat over her shoulder onto the floor of the abandoned room like the thought had left a bad taste in her mouth. "I flew combat with that jackass," she grumbled, and took another drink.

Then she glanced sideways at him. "Well that explains a whole hell of a lot," she said, gesturing with the bottom of the bottle at him, the rifle, the range. "Pissed someone else got to him before you did?"

[shootingblancs]

"Could've been worse if he tried something behind a stick. Or in the middle of a dogfight."

The crosshairs slid smoothly over the bullseye of the target hundreds of meters away. "...she has a thing with a friend from back home. Someone has to make sure she's still in one piece when he shows up."

[novembersghost.livejournal.com]

There was a muted crack, and a split second later one of Michael's targets, one he'd yet to touch, exploded. The wooden crate splintering into a flurry of pieces, raining through the air and coating the street in white wood chips. Another crack, and a chair blew apart this time. Should he follow the trajectories of the shots he would find that they lead to an open hilltop, several hundred meters further away from his targets in the opposite direction than he is himself.

There seems to be no trace of the other sniper however. But then there is a flash of yellow, blond hair? Followed by the glinting of what must be a rifle scope. Before he can get too put out however, a voice echoes in his mind, seeming to come from everywhere at once. It's a woman's voice, low and husky. She speaks easily, her tone light.

Hope you don't mind me borrowing your range. I'm feeling a little out of practice. The smile was evident in her voice, even through the telepathic projection.

[shootingblancs]

Of all the things that Michael could possibly have been expecting when he set up the range - and he had prepared himself for quite a few - this was not one of them. Hell, he'd been reflexively drawing a bead on the new sniper just in case by the time the voice sounded in his mind.

...What the hell?

Eloquent, Michel.

[novembersghost.livejournal.com]

If he looked through his scope, he would find himself staring down the barrel of a rifle pointed back in his direction. Nova wasn't about to shoot him, but really, there was no point being careless. After all the crew had just dealt with a mole on the ship hadn't they? Who was to say there weren't more.

There was the telepathic equivalent of a chuckle before she spoke again. I suppose I should really have asked first and shot later. Sorry about that. I get a little trigger happy now and then.

Oh don't worry Michael. She's a telepath. She's heard much, much worse.

[shootingblancs]

Who are you? Michael shot back, all business. How are you speaking like this?

What kind of gun was that, anyway? A gunner at heart, truly.

[novembersghost.livejournal.com]

(http://img3.imageshack.us/i/withgun.png/)


Name's Nova. Telepath. She neglected to mention the part where she was a highly trained assassin as well as a psi-powered sniper. But that was hardly important at the moment, now was it?

BOSUN FN92 sniper rifle. Firing .50 Cal explosive rounds. I think I went a little overboard. What're you shooting, Tex?

[shootingblancs]

.50 cal explosive? That's an MG round. What's it doing in a sniper rifle? Consider his professional interest piqued. SMS/SM-25. Using .338 magnums. "A little overboard" is one way to put it.

[novembersghost.livejournal.com]

Common misconception. The round's seen use in sniper rifles since the mid to late nineties back on Old Earth. With the advent of powered armour for individual military-men, more stopping power was needed in new weapons manufactured. .50 cal seemed the logical move. Most infantrymen prefer gauss weapons these days. When their leaders can afford them in any case. Never let it be said that the woman didn't know her guns. Would have been my choice for this range. Didn't feel much like switching out my barrel though.

That same mental laugh again. I did say I was sorry.

[shootingblancs]

Getting used to having a conversation without talking was surprisingly easy. It was used in "sniper rifles" that were modified MGs, where I'm from. Yours is built for it?

Don't worry about it. You'll just have to owe me.