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Oct. 11th, 2004 06:59 pmShe's good. Better than she thinks with a gun; it takes a lot of nerve to stand there and fire away like she did. Some people won't even pick the thing up, or if they do they act like it's going to give them leprosy. Or their hand shakes too much, or the gun recoils on them once and they lose their nerve. Or they sweat too much and can't sight, or whatever excuse they come up with.
What the fuck, not Beth. She's got a spine.
We started out close: worked three distances. 25 meters. 50 meters. 75 meters. Just to get in some practice from different paces, different angles, what have you. When you're out there and someone's aiming at you, you don't get to choose your comfort level. You just shoot back and hope like hell you don't miss, and hope like hell they don't hit you. Getting shot isn't fun. I know; I've been shot at and hit. A lot. It burns.
Still, it's not as bad as someone digging their fingers into your chest to try and rip out your heart's arteries. Now that hurts. That leaves the bad kind of scars.
But... she's good, she's good. Best up close, to be expected. I only steadied her arm a couple times but it wasn't because she needed it. It was because it felt good. And she's acting a little more confident about it, and so long as Ein keeps bringing me artillery from the Bebop or wherever, we can keep practicing. I can survive without a gun but it sure feels all right to have one. Security blanket.
Let your hand be one with the gun. Make it an extension of your arm, simple and natural.
I remember that lesson. I remember it well.
Bang.
What the fuck, not Beth. She's got a spine.
We started out close: worked three distances. 25 meters. 50 meters. 75 meters. Just to get in some practice from different paces, different angles, what have you. When you're out there and someone's aiming at you, you don't get to choose your comfort level. You just shoot back and hope like hell you don't miss, and hope like hell they don't hit you. Getting shot isn't fun. I know; I've been shot at and hit. A lot. It burns.
Still, it's not as bad as someone digging their fingers into your chest to try and rip out your heart's arteries. Now that hurts. That leaves the bad kind of scars.
But... she's good, she's good. Best up close, to be expected. I only steadied her arm a couple times but it wasn't because she needed it. It was because it felt good. And she's acting a little more confident about it, and so long as Ein keeps bringing me artillery from the Bebop or wherever, we can keep practicing. I can survive without a gun but it sure feels all right to have one. Security blanket.
Let your hand be one with the gun. Make it an extension of your arm, simple and natural.
I remember that lesson. I remember it well.
Bang.
