His hands shook, and arms ached to rest. Eyes strained at the target while beads of sweat stung his eyeballs. He shook his head slinging the sweat to the side grabbing the other magazine with his left hand. The Para-Ordnance P14 hung like a noose in his right hand, slide back and empty with the other magazine solidly on the ground. He took in a breath and exhaled, sweat spraying out with the exhalation. His form was lean against the summer sun. He was a gunman in the old west in the middle of the earthen lane staring down prey. Sure he couldn’t shift into any monster or come out at night to prey on those less willing, but he was nonetheless a predator in his own right. He took in another breath and in a blur of speed, slid the fresh magazine into the handle, flipping the slide release down; he loaded a round into the pipe. Hands raised up level with the ground, no longer shaking, their purpose absolute. Eyes lined up with the three dots of the sights in a nigh-perfect alignment. Thumb slid down across the safety in habit and Titus unloaded his gun once more.
It was Saturday and the heat in Louisiana was once more just as hot as it ever was. For a bit Titus had scoped out a place to shoot and while the options were vast in Louisiana he settled on a place in Metairie. The line about LEO’s and Military sort of sold him and the prices looked decent. He longed for the farm he was raised on. There was enough space to set up a range out there with plenty of back drop and not enough neighbors to openly disturb. This was New Orleans though and he didn’t know any farm owners so he’d dish out the bread for a firing range.
The application was detailed, but nothing Titus was unfamiliar with. The firearms familiarity questions were honestly no-brainers if you’d ever dealt with firearms. He paid the yearly membership, going for the gold since he’d more than likely save money for as much as he shot in a year. Any phone call for background verification got a clean slate. Save for the very illegal, yet somehow known, sawed off he had, Titus had a no red flags on his background check.
He opted to go outside, for no other reason than it wasn’t as crowded as inside. Most weekend enthusiasists would have stayed inside in the air conditioning, but Titus shot for recreation and training. Some of the rounds he had were giving to him by the Marshal’s for the express reason to train. Right now he had 300 rounds and had a feeling he’d go through those fast. It sounded like a lot but people would be surprised how fast 300 rounds disappear.
He’d go through a regular routine. He’d fill two magazines, unload one, drop that magazine and reload in the same breath. Between cycling the weapon he’d do something physical, push-ups, jumping, or if he could grab the roof of the lane a few pull-ups. This was not to show off, he was trying to elevate his heart rate. When the adrenaline started pumping accuracy went down anywhere from forty to seventy-five percent depending on the report. The closest he could get was to get his heart rate going, get the sweat, pouring and get out of breath, which was hard, but he pulled it off. He’d then check the lanes and once they were clear he’d walk out and check his target and hang a new one.
Within an hour, he had quite a few under a rock behind him. Each one with holes, equally distributed between the head and the ten ring in the middle.
(If I messed anything up factually, let me know. Just thought since the business is there it should be used right? )
-- Edited by TITUS on Saturday 30th of July 2011 04:39:49 AM
Laney sat beside him in the passenger seat of the black H3 and she looked chipper to say the least. For a young woman with such a caustic tongue she got downright jovial anytime he mentioned training. No matter how much she passed out, vomited, or was injured she never lost her enthusiasm, and don't think he hadn't hoped that she would. In fact the first few months after he'd made his promise to her his sole focus had been on getting her to give up. He had wanted her to fail, to flounder, to be a typical young person and change her mind. Yet she had surprised him and so he had adjusted his focus to meet new criteria.
No longer was his aim to drive her into the ground and see her retreat. Now he wanted to instill in her everything he had learned so that one day she could take his place. It was strange the way that shift had come and as Laney tried to turn off the classical music and he swatted her hand away he was having a downright Kung Fu 'take the pebble from my hand' moment. The marks he shared with Marcus and Evie had kept him in a state of grace for years, but he knew better than to think they would outweigh the force of prophecy.
Ash had seen his death in Salem, had looked the bearer of that burden in the eyes, and he knew that he could not escape the cruel hand of fate forever. Not once since being turned in Scotland had he ever infected another wolf. He had never brought anyone over to the pack. Yet sitting beside him was his chance at a legacy. A young girl, still upbeat with a future in front of her, who wanted to be just like him. Heaven save them all.
As he pulled into the parking lot of the shooting range he flicked his black papered cigarette out the open window before pressing the button to roll it up. Laney was out of the H3 and headed for the door as he was climbing out. That skip in her step would eventually vanish, he knew it was inevitable, but chastising her for her eagerness would do nothing. Some things only time and experience could teach you and when those things finally turned Laney from an eager pupil full of excitement into something more severe he would at least be there to remind her of who she had been.
When he'd bought Laney her first gun he had gotten them a membership at the shooting range, a place where it was easy to call ahead and have your kit readied for you. Walking through the store he gave a nod to the man behind the counter who greeted them and pulled out their days rounds and targets for practice. He saw the look in Laney's eyes as she gazed up at an AK-47 on the wall and all he said was a quick,
"No."
and then motioned for her to take her things from the man. They bypassed the crowded shooting gallery and headed for the outdoor range. It wasn't an interest in the heat that drew them there, but the fact that one of the things they had to practice was better done with not so many people crowded in. Laney was still green with a gun. She could hit a target, but she still needed a lot of practice. Besides which she had a noteable handicap. If she wanted to hunt then she had to not only practice with the weapon in her hand but with the weapon inside her as well.
"Take the far slot pet and hang your target."
Holding the door open for her he watched her steps slow as she crossed behind the sole person outside who appeared to be doing some kind of work out routine between clips. Laney paused, almost unsure, until he nodded to her and then she set off to hang her target. Ash had eyes that looked like neon blue highlighter fluid had seeped into the iris, bright and electric as lightning, and they investigated the man as he passed him.
Behind sleek silver lined shields his beast was calmly observing the world, and the energy he gave off was nearly human in its simplicity. Yet he could feel the otherness of this man and his mind saw Dakota's face flash through him for a moment accompanied by the smell of the grave. Expression a blank cop face that bordered on what some of the vampires could accomplish in their deathly stillness his only tell was a muscle in his jaw that gave a twitch as the mans scent triggered that memory.
Then he was standing beside Laney, observing as she prepared. They spoke quietly for a bit as he informed her of what they would be doing. He would let her practice a few rounds just with the gun, but eventually he would begin to test her aim and control with outside forces working against her beast. It was the only way. Trial and error to help her get used to controlling those two sides of herself at once. After their brief discussion he stepped away, moving to the wall of the building to lean casually as he watched her. If the heat bothered him in his all black attire you couldn't tell it to look at him.
Great minds must have thought alike. Titus was in black as well. He would do the most of his shooting in the clothes he was wearing so he wore them when he shot. The only difference between now and during an execution was the body armor, which was in the trunk of his Charger out front. He was covered in sweat but didn’t tip that it bothered him. Titus liked the feel of the heat bearing down on him, made him feel a little more alive as he sweat in the sun. Most of his work was at night or in courtrooms so air conditioned he debated on keeping a parka in the office for just in case. The summer heat was a warm welcome.
Titus was reloading magazines as Ash and his apprentice moved out there with him. He thought for a second then agreed with his first instinct. The girl was timid, stepping out over the threshold and into the sun with all the courage of a church mouse. She didn’t look weak though, which accounted for something as Titus made a quick glance slow down in his mind, observing without watching. Ash was all confidence though as he stepped out after her. He knew Ash, met him once over a beer one time, long ago in Hawaii when Titus still had a little more to learn and a little less to lose. The smooth gait and the way he moved was a play on humanity, but he did it well enough to where only well trained eyes would have noticed a difference. Ash was calm and cool, even in the July heat. He was James Dean leaning against a Porsche Spyder.
Quietly, Titus envied the powers the man had. Though he’d never trade his necromantic powers for the curse of lycanthropy; the agility and strength would make him pause and think, if even for just a minute. Going toe to toe with the worst creatures in the world that the court system deemed unsuitable to live was something for giants and legends to fight and feud with. Titus was none of those things, and possibly all of those things.
His only reaction when they stepped out was a simple courtesy nod. It spoke volumes if only in the most primal ways. The nod was the same you gave an equal or peer. Yes I acknowledge your existence. It being the day, he kept his guard and shields down. Not much during the day could feel his power and it was never full strength until the sun was on the other side of the world. He went back to his business of reloading the magazines, though absently watched the apprentice.
He walked out with her, to hang his own target, when all the lanes were clear of firing was when everyone went out to change target, this was no exception. He walked back into his lane and went through his routine again. Once he finished his pull-ups this time, he took a step back from his lane showing he was done firing and watched the other two. There was no other intent save for he watched to make sure she was done firing before he walked down range. No impatience, Titus was just watching in the same neutral expression he always had.
