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{{byline|author=Concerned Reader|user=Concerned Reader}} | {{byline|author=Concerned Reader|user=Concerned Reader}} | ||
{{author note|This | {{author note|This is a continuation of [[Rebuilding]], following the story of [[PAW_Timelines/Character_Timeline#Allan_Willson|Allan Willson]].}} | ||
{{WIP}} | {{WIP}} | ||
{{universe|Pig and Whistle}} | {{universe|Pig and Whistle}} | ||
{{float tag|text={{add|'''Author's Notes: New additions will start with a few words of green text.'''}}|text-background=#eeeeee}} | {{float tag|text={{add|'''Author's Notes: New additions will start with a few words of green text.'''}}|text-background=#eeeeee}} | ||
__TOC__ | __TOC__ | ||
==Chapter 1== | |||
{{Add|“Ma'am, I was raised a Christian in Texas,” I say to the woman sitting across from me. “Of course I know 'how' to use a gun. That doesn't mean I enjoy shooting people.” | |||
She looks at me a moment, then replies, “Good, because today you're shooting targets. They jut happen to be people shaped. Now let's go...”}} | |||
She picks up the pistol from the table, I wasn't quite sure what it was, other than the Glock logo on the grip, and led the way into the next room. I was still trying to figure out how I had gotten myself into this situation. Two years ago the Texas Rangers had approached me, and I don't mean the Baseball team. Now they were back, and had somehow talked me into joining the fast track. In this case, the really fast track. | |||
“What am I doing here?” I mutter to myself. I had a general idea. Something to do with infiltration. | |||
Unfortunately, she must have heard me, because she replied, “I don't know why you're here, and I don't much care. I was told to run you through basic arms training, so that's what I'll do. Now if you're done bitching, follow me.” | |||
She motions to a doorway, and walks through it. There are several signs on the door warning of live ammunition, and hearing protection. She hands me a pair of ear plugs, and continues to an empty stall. Inside is a box of 9mm ammunition and a gun rest. Down the range is an assortment of targets, ranging from circular to various silhouettes. | |||
“Alright. I don't know what you may think you do or don't know, so I'll start from the beginning.” She says, while loading the Glocks magazine. She finishes and slides it into the pistol, checking the safety and racking the slide. “This is a pistol. This is a safety. Red means fire. Always assume a gun is loaded, and don't point it at anything you don't intend to kill.” | |||
I knew most of this already, but decide against telling her that fact. | |||
“Now for the stance. Are you right or left handed?” | |||
“Right” | |||
“Okay, you put your left leg forward with a slight bend, and your right leg back, square with your shoulders. Lean forward slightly, and breath regular. Place your target just above the sight and squeeze the trigger.” | |||
She fires three shots, and three holes in a tight triangle appear on the furthest target. All three within bulls-eye. “Now you try,” she says, setting the safety and placing the gun on the counter. I pick it up and assume the position. It comes back to me, even after all these years, and I remember the words from the hunter safety class I took a long time ago. | |||
With a steady breath, I squeeze the trigger once, give an exasperated shrug, and turn off the safety. My next shot hits just below the bulls-eye on the closest target. | |||
“Not bad. At least you can hit a target. Now try the next one, and this time lean forward more.” | |||
We continued with this with several more guns, from semi-automatics to full Assault rifles. The only guns I was any sort of decent at were the Semi's and the Combat shotguns. | |||
[[Category:Story]][[Category:Concerned Reader]][[Category:Pig and Whistle]][[Category:Allan Willson]] | |||
Latest revision as of 00:19, 21 July 2009
{{#ifeq: | | {{#ifeq: Concerned Reader | |
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Author: Concerned Reader
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Author: Concerned Reader
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{{#ifeq: Concerned Reader | | Authors: ' |
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}} {{#if:| — see also [[:Category:{{{category}}}|other works by this author]]}}
This is a continuation of Rebuilding, following the story of Allan Willson.
 | This story is a work in progress. |
{{#ifeq:|Help||}}
{{#if:Jigsaw green.png|}} | Pig and Whistle story universe |
| [[Image:{{{icon}}}|30px|center|Icon]] | Author's Notes: New additions will start with a few words of green text. |
Chapter 1
“Ma'am, I was raised a Christian in Texas,” I say to the woman sitting across from me. “Of course I know 'how' to use a gun. That doesn't mean I enjoy shooting people.”
She looks at me a moment, then replies, “Good, because today you're shooting targets. They jut happen to be people shaped. Now let's go...”
She picks up the pistol from the table, I wasn't quite sure what it was, other than the Glock logo on the grip, and led the way into the next room. I was still trying to figure out how I had gotten myself into this situation. Two years ago the Texas Rangers had approached me, and I don't mean the Baseball team. Now they were back, and had somehow talked me into joining the fast track. In this case, the really fast track.
“What am I doing here?” I mutter to myself. I had a general idea. Something to do with infiltration.
Unfortunately, she must have heard me, because she replied, “I don't know why you're here, and I don't much care. I was told to run you through basic arms training, so that's what I'll do. Now if you're done bitching, follow me.”
She motions to a doorway, and walks through it. There are several signs on the door warning of live ammunition, and hearing protection. She hands me a pair of ear plugs, and continues to an empty stall. Inside is a box of 9mm ammunition and a gun rest. Down the range is an assortment of targets, ranging from circular to various silhouettes.
“Alright. I don't know what you may think you do or don't know, so I'll start from the beginning.” She says, while loading the Glocks magazine. She finishes and slides it into the pistol, checking the safety and racking the slide. “This is a pistol. This is a safety. Red means fire. Always assume a gun is loaded, and don't point it at anything you don't intend to kill.”
I knew most of this already, but decide against telling her that fact.
“Now for the stance. Are you right or left handed?”
“Right”
“Okay, you put your left leg forward with a slight bend, and your right leg back, square with your shoulders. Lean forward slightly, and breath regular. Place your target just above the sight and squeeze the trigger.”
She fires three shots, and three holes in a tight triangle appear on the furthest target. All three within bulls-eye. “Now you try,” she says, setting the safety and placing the gun on the counter. I pick it up and assume the position. It comes back to me, even after all these years, and I remember the words from the hunter safety class I took a long time ago.
With a steady breath, I squeeze the trigger once, give an exasperated shrug, and turn off the safety. My next shot hits just below the bulls-eye on the closest target.
“Not bad. At least you can hit a target. Now try the next one, and this time lean forward more.”
We continued with this with several more guns, from semi-automatics to full Assault rifles. The only guns I was any sort of decent at were the Semi's and the Combat shotguns.