gunsforhire | Log: Aptitude

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Log: Aptitude

Who: Agent Maine and Roxy
What: Maine agrees to test Roxy's aptitude
Where: a local shooting range
When: Saturday at 2 pm (20 June; backdated)
Warnings: awesome characters doing awesome things with weaponry

Maine's glad he remembers his promise to meet Roxy on Saturday. He definitely drank more than he had planned that night with Louisiana. And while he's a little irritated with himself for making such a commitment while inebriated, it's far from the worst thing he has done. What could happen? His reputation would take a hit from being seen at a shooting range with a girl in pink?

Maine isn't worried about that. In fact, he's rather curious. He packs his full arsenal with him: both M6Gs, his standard rifle, an auto rifle, and the Bruteshot. At least Roxy will have something to shoot with. Sure, he gets a number of frightened looks when he exits the jeep at the shooting range, but what do they think this place is? A bakery?

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Roxy is waiting for him outside, helmet on, a heavy bag at her side. Though she is rather notably more...subdued than usual. Usually she's bright and cheerful energy, but now she's quiet, watching. She doesn't have the energy to force herself to be happy. She just...

She feels the need to prove herself. The more people tell her she's not capable, the more it's been bugging her to Prove Them Wrong. And....well, at this point, it was either listen to that need to prove herself, or the encroaching depression, and she knows which one she wants to listen to.

Though when Maine arrives, she tilts her head. "Knifle, I take it?"

"Heard of it before?" he asks. She must have been talking to Wash. Or Omega. Neither of them bother to call the Bruteshot by its proper name. "It's my trademark." A sign that the Meta is serious and someone is going to die. It's probably good that Delta hasn't seen this weapon yet.

He beckons her into the airlock and wonders what she has brought with her.

"Omega mentioned it," Roxy said. "Could never handle a weapon like that myself. Can't even explain what shit manages to happen if I try to use a knife for more than cookin'," she commented, standing up to follow him to the airlock. She's pretty sure it's weird void crap.

A gun 'empties' so it might be why it's the only weapon she could use without it breaking somehow.

"Very intimidatin' trademark. Looks more like a grenade launcher than rifle."

"Oh?" He asks. "Brought it so you could try it, if you wanted. Definitely a grenade launcher. Reclaimed Covenant tech."

Incredibly expensive to maintain and find ammunition for, but worth it.

"Yyyyyeah, no. If I dun end up breaking the blade part, it's probs going to break something else. Never did get all of Zazzerpan back in one piece after tryin' Dirk's sword," Roxy said. She eyed it up and sighed, a bit wistful. "Which is a shame. Did always want to use a grenade launcher, but never tempt the rules of shenanigans."

"Covenant is a p interestin' bunch." Because of course she had to read up on the aliens.

"Fair enough," he says.

"Not too familiar with the Covenant. War ended before I had a chance to join the field. They know how to make good weapons, though." He can respect that, at least.

The airlock doors open. Maine waves at the clerk, who knows him by sight. He comes here periodically, when he needs an excuse to get out of the base, and he's not exactly easy to forget. Having a reputation helps get bookings, too. Today, he reserved a booth at the far end of the building. He and Roxy can have some privacy and six lanes to shoot in, if they don't want to change targets.

"Wikipedia is your friend. Learn lots of things. And helpful links," she said with a shrug. Plus she had to be sure. Absolutely sure there was no sea witches in charge. All aliens had to be studied. As well as Betty Crocker. "Lots of interesting cultures."

Roxy nods at the clerks, following along with Maine. At least she wasn't getting odd looks this time. She's visited a few times after Tex let her use her reputation to get some practice in.

"Good to know," he says. "I like books. Most get too political, though." At least Wikipedia would have varying biases, he supposes.

Maine reaches the booth at the same time that the clerk unlocks it remotely. He opens the door wide enough that Roxy can get in behind him without having to hold it.

"Books are hella political. Even the ones not 'bout politics are hella political," Roxy agreed with a sage nod. "But ones 'bout a species you were at war with? Sides gonna happen."

Roxy slipped inside, moving over to a table to set down her bag and start pulling gun parts from it.

Maine takes the other table and lays out his weaponry. If Roxy doesn't want to try the Bruteshot, he'll hold off using it. Maybe later. Most of his work with Omega lately has been rifles, so he should probably practice with the magnums. At least he can use two lanes for this, once he has pulled the separating screen away.

He watches Roxy out of the corner of his eye, curious to see what kind of gun--or guns--she has.

She has only the one. For right now. Guns weer expensive and it took some hoops to jump through to find a good quality one without using any legal channels. But it was a weapon she didn't want to blow up in her face, so worth it. Plus, it was less distinctive then her own. Lasers weren't nearly as common as she would like

Though she did bring it, but for now, it's staying in the bag.

Two bad the other guns in her strife specibus weren't capable of working on Adaptive. That would have been excellent proof of bullshit.

For right now, though, she's putting together an assault rifle, quick and efficient. Very well practiced.

Maine has used this booth before and knows which pins to pull in order to tuck the separating screen away. He does so now, expanding the range that he'll be able to use. He lets his M6Gs rest on the shelf and checks their cartridges. Full, as usual. He leaves the safeties on and waits for Roxy so they can start shooting.

Roxy looked over while he moved the divider, smirking a bit. Yeah, she supposed the narrow ranges would be kind of a problem. She looked at the guns, and the smirk turns a bit wistful. Was he gonna dual wield? Been a while since she saw that.

She sets down the fully assembled rifle. "Same time?"

"Yeah." Why not? It makes him more intimidating and a more effective killing machine. So it requires a lot more practice, too; he's been doing this for a long time.

Roxy nodded, picking up her gun. "Okay," she said, watching Maine from the corner of her eye, waiting for the signal. Whatever that might be.

Maine starts with the gun in his right hand first. Firing off both pistols at once would be asinine; he takes turns firing rounds from one hand and then the other, shifting his focus from one to the other.

Roxy sees he's about to fire and takes that as the signal, starting to pull her own trigger before he fully fired the first shot. After all, the point WAS to prove she knew what she was doing, and it'd be no good if she didn't make a point she could read others in combat.

She started with burst fire, letting the bullets life, only shifting after a few bursts, hitting another place on the target. Once, twice, three times.

Then a slightly longer pause as she fired off one shot.

A shift, fired off two single shots in rapid succession.

She lowered the rifle, pulling out the empty clip and grabbing another from her bag. She let the target speak for itself. About where the 'elbows' and 'knees' would be on the generic human target was full of bullet holes in tight spreads. The single shots was one through the heart and two through the head.

Just because she didn't like the idea of killing shots didn't mean she was incapable of making them, after all.

Not bad. Not bad at all. Maine takes his shots slower because that's how he practices, and while he wonders how good her clustering is, those are some nice shots.

Roxy changes out the ammo, taking the chance to watch him as she does so. He's different from Jake, of course. More methodical, at least, but Jake was always an instinct kind of guy.

He empties the magazine of each M6G, mixing up the number of times he fires each gun but never losing count of the shots he has taken.. His accuracy isn't great, not at this range, but each shot is off by the same amount. He may be off, but he's consistent.

Time to switch to the rifle. He flips the safeties back on and swaps guns.

She supposed that wasn't a surprise. Someone his size, would make sense the focus wouldn't be on guns. She starts taking aim again, making more....injuries on the targets. A line across the neck, circles on the torso in various spots. More controlled, slow paced this time.

"You a sniper?" he asks. She has incredible precision, each shot deliberate and paced.

All right. He's impressed.

"Yeah," Roxy said. "Haven't gotten a proper sniper rifle yet. Last one isn't...useable anymore," she added. Stupid laws of physics. She liked her transporter gun.

"You're good," he admits. "Really good." He doesn't know how she compares to North or Wyoming, but she's far better than he anticipated.

"I know," she said simply. "Though not much for kill shots." She hated killing. She would rather avoid it if she could.

"Not the only one," he says. Wash and York are the same way. Maine is. . . working on it. "Still. Sorry I doubted you."

"Really? Good to hear," Roxy said, lowering her gun. "I could take the shots if I had to, but I don't....they're too still when they die." Far too still and it's too final and she can hear it screaming in her head.

Her head snapped up at the apology, looking surprised. "What?"

"Sorry for doubting you." He wants to pick up his rifle and sight down the lane instead of meeting her eyes, but he doesn't. "Sometimes I forget what young people can do."

There's still surprise on her face and then...she relaxes. "Yeah. I know how it should be for kids. But not all kids are that lucky and when they're not....they still know how to survive. At least, that's what I got. Kind of limited on interactions with kids my own age."

"Never was that lucky," he says. "And can't force you to be."

Roxy nodded. "That's right. Always gonna have misfortune happen. Might as well control how it comes, right?" If nothing else, the mugging attempt was evidence of that. If it's not one thing, it's another.

And make a living while you're at it, in Maine's case.

"Exactly."

That as well.

She nodded and looked at him seriously. "So. I have a favor to ask."

"Depends," he says. "See what I can do."

He won't make any promises, but he would like to help.

"This?" She gestured with her head at her target. "Do or die since I was a lil kid, not just excessive target practice. So, if you guys need back up, esp when it comes to keeping the Ai's or Oquirrh safe, keep me as an option? Trust me, nothing on Adaptive is gonna be a new sitch when it comes to shit hitting the fan."

"Can do that," he says. "You know Oquirrh?"

He still hasn't met the woman. He only knows that she's Wash's girlfriend and the reason his team could finally move against Control. Either one of those reasons could put her in danger; he's glad to know he can trust one of her friends to protect her.

"She needed a fake identity in a hurry, and I could make one in a hurry. Also she wants to try video games and how can I not convert someone to the wonders of pixel action?" Roxy said with a shrug, though she was getting far more relaxed then when she arrived. It's good someone is willing to trust her.

"You can?" That's also pretty impressive.

He's glad those two have each other. Both could probably use a good friend, given their circumstances.

Roxy nodded. "Lotta problem with robots growing up. Makes it a whole lot easier to keep yourself safe if you could make the robots forget any clues where you are," she said and shrugged. "Learned more from there. A lot of free time when death wasn't imminent."

"Robots?" he asks. "Not many robots here. Good to have two ways to fight them."

He stops to take aim again, sighting down the lane.

"Not from here. Lotta bots where I'm from," Roxy said, lifting up her gun again. "And three ways to fight 'em, though number three ain't so reliable these days." Stupid laws of physics.

"Still better than none," he points out. "What's number three?"

"...angle and momentum. See, the design flaw in robots is, while more mobile than like, a tank, they still got joints. Which are weaker than anything else," Roxy said, and takes another shot, at the shoulder. "So, if ya can manage to get the right amount of speed and force, at the right angle, you can break the limbs. But, you know, part of it kind of involved throwing myself off shit I really shouldn't have been," she fires at the other shoulder. "Straight up magic I didn't break more bones. And, well, Gulch has taller buildings." She fires at the ankles. There is also the fact she lacks the actual 'magic' that let her survive doing that crazy stuff. "You'd probs be excellent at it though, with less rocketing off rooftops."

"Joints are good," he says. "On people, too."

He won't comment on the rooftop idea. No reason to let her know he hates heights.

"They are. S'long as they're not stupid fuckers, first broken bone will usually make peeps back off. Though, not always, apparently," she said with a shrug. Which was a fun surprise. Really.

"Too many are," Maine says. Especially in his line of work. Tougher mercenaries manage to shrug off the strangest things.

Not that he has any right to talk.

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Log: Aptitude

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