epidemiology | [ open ] swift as the coursing rain, with all the force of a great typhoon

CHARACTERS: McCree; Koltira; yOU
DATE: First few weeks post-arrival in Perdition's Rest
WARNINGS: somebody might hit somebody else
SUMMARY: TRAINING DAY(s)

MCCREE

[ McCree's set up near the northwestern border of the town. He's constructed a line of targets--six flour sacks tied to poles, facing the expanse of desert beyond--and he's spinning his revolvers in his good hand. He's got a mess of other guns piled on top of a nearby barrel, some borrowed from Riza Hawkeye, some purchased from the local munitions shop. Attached to the barrel is a sign:

SHARPSHOOTING
(OR HAND-TO-HAND)
HERE. ]

KOLTIRA

[ Koltira's on the southern outskirts. Anyone conducting business in the town proper can see him just beyond the edges of the last buildings, giant sword in hand, black coattails fluttering behind him as he paces. He has no targets, and no sign, either. He has the sword in his hand, the knives on his belt, and a scowling expression on his face. ]

[ OOC: TRAINING, with either Koltira or McCree. Obviously, totally separate from one another--I just combined the log so as not to spam the community needlessly. If no actual training was discussed on record, but you'd still like to have your character learn something, feel free to handwave that discussion.

McCree offers: sharpshooting; brawling.

Koltira offers: weapons training; magic if you're capable; hand-to-hand also.

McCree is a friendly and patient teacher.

Koltira is not.

Of course, if you'd just like to bother them while they are holding deadly weapons, that is also fine. Please comment to either subheader below for a custom starter! Please specify what you're here for! ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ he could definitely use improvement, especially since up to this point, his only real experience with a gun is playing his world's version of halo or something. sure, garrison's a military academy, but he'd been training to be a fighter pilot... he didn't much pay attention when it came to the arms classes.

but he aims up and shoots again, and just like last it is perfect, right between the eyes. ]

Heeeeey, maybe I don't need you after all!

[ He rubs his chin thoughtfully. ]

Maybe y'don't.

[ Obviously, this requires a different approach. McCree looks 'round, thinking. What part of the environment can use that won't get him into a monstrous amount of trouble? He quickly concludes: just about nothing.

One thing for it, then.

McCree stands beside one of the remaining targets, arms folded over his chest. ]

All right, partner. Hit me.

[ cowboy say what ]

Hold on, hold on— are you serious?

[ lance has already lowered his rifle, and whatever confidence he'd gotten from his previous attempts is slowly beginning to slip away the more he looks on and realizes — crap, this guy's totally serious! ]

[ McCree has some suspicions about what's going on with Lance and his weapon, but he'd like a little more confirmation. Stationary targets aren't telling enough. ]

Yeah, come on.

[ He leans against one of the targets, looking idle and relaxed--languid, even. ]

Gimme your best shot.

[ lance is pretty game for most things, but using one of his own teammates as target practice? not so much.

...

maybe if he were keith. ]

Dude, have you ever been blasted with a laser thing before? [ don't ask him to clarify, he has no idea what actually comes out of this rifle okay. ] Are you crazy??

[ He rubs his chin. ]

I have, actually. Pulse rifles ain't pleasant, I'll grant you, but I know how to dance with'em.

[ As for the crazy bit--he just shrugs and grins. ]

You squeamish, son?

[ he is, rather predictably, rustled. ]

I'm not squeamish — [ he's a little squeamish ] — I'm just not gonna be the jerk who shoots at his own teammate! What's the point??

Education.

[ He siiiighs. This isn't going anywhere productive.

McCree glances up again, squinting from beneath the brim of his hat. He spots a few vulture-like birds some distance away, just beyond the town's border, squabbling over some dead lizard's corpse. One of them takes flight and starts to circle, looking for more lunch. ]

Shoot down that fella there. Quick, now, before he gets away.

[ lance follows mccree's line of sight but... once again... finds himself hesitating, despite having already raised his rifle and taken aim. ]

...But... it hadn't hurt anybody...

[ THIS CHILD ... but McCree's figuring a few things out, regardless. Lance shoots like he's seen more than a few tours of duty, but everything else about him contradicts that assumption. He's hesitant; gentle. Every bit the young man he appears to be.

But McCree still wants to see Lance hit a moving target.

He walks back to the barrel piled up with guns--there's an empty beer bottle there, too, from earlier in the day.

(Breakfast). ]

All right, tenderfoot. We'll do this instead.

[ He hurls the bottle into the air. ]

Draw, and shoot.

[ as soft-hearted as lance might be (perhaps too soft-hearted for the line of work he's expected to carry out, and not even just here in audentes), he does, at least, have incredible reflexes. ]

Whoa, wait—!

[ his arm jerks, and despite reacting in pretty good timing, the way he fumbles with the rifle, the way he barely even looks before pulling that trigger — it's sloppy work, probably worth a good berating or two from his commanding officer back at the garrison —

and yet?

the bottle shatters into dozens of pieces anyway, the shot hitting it square-on right at the highest peak of its ascent. ]

[ McCree whistles. ]

Ain't that somethin'.

[ He picks up one of Riza's spare revolvers, thinking. He'd watched Lance carefully as he shot, and he's got a good idea of the situation now. The kid has talent, to be sure, but he's got something else, too. ]

Do me one more favor, would you?

[ He presses the revolver into Lance's hands. ]

Give this girl a try.

[ He gestures to one of the still standing targets. ]

[ lance's hand dips a little in the air under the weight of the revolver. it's much smaller than his rifle, for sure, but the metal is cool even through the gloves of his suit, and it feels... a little strange. a little wrong. ]

Uh, sure...

[ he's not really following mccree's line of thinking, but truth be told he's still a little surprised by his lucky hit there, earlier. he releases the rifle with his other hand, the weapon de-materializing in the air and returning to its bayard form on his belt.

he takes a ready stance again and takes aim for the same target he'd just massacred not too long ago. this time, when he presses the trigger, he's shocked by the blowback from it, actually jerking back a little as the unmistakable smell of gunfire reaches his nose.

he stares at the target, with its brand new bullet hole several inches away from the bullseye. ]

Huh?

[ McCree tilts his head slightly. Yeah, that was about what he expected. He comes up beside Lance, a critical look in his dark eyes. ]

You got talent, partner. But your fancy tech's holdin' you back.

[ He sets a hand on Lance's shoulder and pushes gently. ]

You got sloppy form and a wanderin' eye. But that rifle you're totin' corrects your mistakes while you're makin'em.

[ He nudges Lance, here and there, until he's got the kid arranged properly. Legs locked, back straight, arms in the right place. ]

'S real handy. But it ain't conducive to improvement.

[ for a long time, lance doesn't even look as if he'd heard mccree. he just stands there, completely moldable as the other man begins to shift him around. he'd glance between the revolver in his hand and the bayard hanging from his belt, looking as if he can't quite fully process all that he's just witnessed and heard.

and then his expression shifts, lips pursed and brows furrowed. he certainly doesn't look like he's about to disagree, and why would he/ mccree, as far as he's concerned, would have no reason to lie to him. he sighs a little, figuring it had definitely been too good to be true. ]

Do me a favor, [ he finally mutters, lifting his arm to take aim again. another shot, and this time he'd braced himself for the blowback so he doesn't jerk back as much. still no bullseye, but his arm hadn't wavered either, ] if you meet a guy named Keith? Don't tell him about this.

It's all between you and me.

[ He slaps Lance on the back. ]

Don't look so glum, tenderfoot. You got a lot goin' for you. I'm gonna help you make the most of it.

[ He taps the revolver in Lance's hand. ]

You leave that high-falutin' rifle aside for a while. You're gonna learn the old-fashioned way. Got it?

[ open ] swift as the coursing rain, with all the force of a great typhoon

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