Ack! Target Practice Practices Among the Reluctantly Armed

[young_idealist]

Who: Armand and Chuck
When: Friday afternoon
Where: CES
What: Accidental encounter during target practice
Warnings: Inept shooting?

Comments

[scruffynerdhrdr]

It had been a month or two, in relative time, since Chuck had used any gun. Sure, he was beginning to get used to holding them, if not using them; it was better now that he knew he hadn't actually killed Shaw when he'd shot him in Paris. Worse, though, because of all the shit he'd pulled after the Ring hauled him out of the Seine.

God, he hated Shaw.

Still, he figured that he should go and practice - really practice, without relying on the Intersect to aim his gun for him. The only gun he had was one of Sarah's that must have been in his room, a Smith & Wesson Model 5906. No better place to practice than the CES, he figured, especially since there wasn't a dedicated range on board. At least he'd be able to be outside while he practiced. (Well, in a manner of speaking. It was either a crazy holodeck or straight-up magic.)

When he opened the door, he heard a shot go off. Almost immediately the Intersect combined with his adrenaline and he ducked, dodging and weaving and rolling and finally coming to rest behind a nearby bush. It took him about four or five seconds to feel like an idiot as he poked his head up to see Armand there, likely with the same intentions Chuck had. Or maybe he just had a vendetta against trees for some reason.

"Hi," he called out, before freezing and realizing that was really dumb to do, startling someone with a gun - not to mention impolite to break in on someone else's target practice. Casey had nearly throttled him last time he'd done that.

[young_idealist]

Armand whirled around, his eyes wide with fear. The gun was so very loud, leaving echoes in his ears, he wouldn't have heard anyone coming up. He stared at Chuck a moment, the gun pointed that way, until he remembered to lower the muzzle to point at the ground. Now, he trembled just a little, because he'd been frightened for a moment and could have done something incredibly stupid.

"Monsieur?" he said, trying to hide the trembling. "You frightened me. I'm sorry for pointing my weapon at you. I meant no harm to you." He dropped his gaze as he finished speaking, looking at the gun in his hand. He felt moisture pricking his eyes now, at his embarrassment, and at being ripped back into the present from remembering Jack.

[scruffynerdhrdr]

Gun. Gun! Pointing at face. Surprisingly, Chuck was still not used to this. He was able to breathe a sigh of relief when the barrel dropped.

"Y-yeah," he said, standing up slowly, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. "Well, I'm sorry I startled you. I didn't mean to freak you out. So let's call it even, okay?"

[young_idealist]

Armand couldn't help blushing in embarrassment. "I didn't mean--either." He nodded. "Yes, I think we're even now. Am I in your way?" That would mean he had an excuse to quit.

[scruffynerdhrdr]

Chuck shrugged. "Nope, not at all. Looks like we're here for the same reason." He drew the gun from the small of his back, where he'd kept it tucked in the waistband of his pants. Totally safe, but he didn't feel comfortable wearing that thigh holster of Sarah's. He held it up, pointing away from the both of them, fingers laced in the trigger guard. "I guess everyone on board's got one of these, huh?" It made sense. What with Aztec attacks every other day and all."

[young_idealist]

Armand had a shoulder holster, but when he was practicing, he just brought the gun in his coat pocket, unloaded (the bullets in his other pocket). "I don't know if everyone does. I've only had mine since late summer." He was still pointing it at the ground, and mentally counting bullets. Since the interruption, he could not remember, so he opened the chamber and counted.

"Do you want to practice together?"

[scruffynerdhrdr]

"Oh." Yeah, that made sense, sort of. Everybody couldn't have a gun - even though that would probably make administering a crisis much simpler. Just shoot the first person to pull a weapon.

Even if this was a magical boat that brought people back to life, the thought still made Chuck queasy.

"Huh? Oh, yeah! Sounds good to me," he said cheerfully. He had a full magazine; he'd checked. Not like Sarah to leave one of her guns around half-loaded anyway.

[young_idealist]

"I just try to hit the trees where I mean to hit them," Armand explained sheepishly. There were no targets or ways to keep score, or protective gear, but it was a simple method.

"Tis not a contest is it?"

[scruffynerdhrdr]

"Nah, not a contest," Chuck said. He glanced at the gun in his hand, trying to keep himself from flashing on how to aim and fire flawlessly. He couldn't rely on the Intersect for everything.

Besides, he'd had a lot of training from Duck Hunt.

"Ready when you are."

[young_idealist]

Armand gives Chuck a nod, then takes aim at a tree that is sufficiently far away and not in a direction to hurt Chuck. He has to use both hands. He's not a big man, and his hands aren't big either. And when he fires, the recoil almost knocks him back. He has to brace against it.

After a moment, he fires again, and actually hits a little better than he did the first time, but then he lowers the gun. With a shake of his head, he says, "Your turn."

[scruffynerdhrdr]

Wow, that was some hefty recoil. Chuck watched, checking Armand's aim. It wasn't bad, actually. He doubted he could do better without the Intersect to help him. The Intersect...which he wasn't going to use.

He stepped into position at a tree of his own, raising the gun, being sure to brace his forearm - it was Sarah's gun, it wasn't what he was used to. He wasn't really used to anything.

As he stared down at the target, he felt the slight dizziness of a flash coming on. Chuck closed his eyes and willed it away. No. This isn't the point. A fragment of his own voice came rushing back to him, from the last time he'd held a gun.

"A gunfight?" Contempt, scorn in his voice, though his head pounded with feedback, worse with each step, with each word. "Is that what you really want?"

The tree was Shaw.

The tree was Shaw.

Fire!

The shot didn't quite go wide, but buried itself left of center. He glared, took a breath, steadied his arm, fired again. A little closer this time.

Just as quickly as the sudden anger had come, it evaporated. Chuck lowered the gun and turned back towards Armand, all nonchalant. "Yeah, I am definitely not up to form," he said.

[young_idealist]

Armand saw some emotion come and go, like a wave that washed in and out again. He had some guesses what it might be, and for a few moments he was afraid, and then it was over. "Monsieur?" he asked timidly. "Are you well? Perhaps this isn't a good time for you to do this."

[scruffynerdhrdr]

"Hm?" Chuck turned and looked at Armand. "Me? Oh, I'm fine," he said, and meant it. Still, he had been a little disturbed by that flashback. He hoped that wouldn't happen every time he picked up a gun; that would make his job a little bit difficult. "I'm fine," he said, smiling genuinely. Best to just put it out of his mind for now. He cast around in a desperate bid to change the subject. "So, uh, where're you from?" Like the accent didn't tip him off any.

[young_idealist]

"I'm from Paris, France. Most people wonder more about the year." But Armand doesn't mind answering questions. It's much more fun to talk than it is to shoot guns.

[scruffynerdhrdr]

"Okay. What year are you from, then?" People come from Gotham here. A little time-skip won't phase Chuck much. Privately, he's glad of the reprieve from shooting, too. If he's alone with his thoughts too much he might get angry again, and he doesn't like being angry. Anger makes him efficient. It almost reminds him too much of that damned emotion-suppressant pill that nearly made him into a machine.

[young_idealist]

"It was 1794 when I left home." But he still expects Chuck won't believe him or ridicule him. "A place like this exceeds my most wild imaginings."