Jan 13 07:21:40 106 PA

From Chronicles

A very large facility designed for weaponry of all shapes and sizes, the Kingsdale Firing Range is actually owned and run by the city's military. In all actuality, calling it a single facility is a misnomer. It is actually a collection of three. The first of these is an indoor firing range, complete with moving targets that is designed for light to heavy hand-held firearms. Everything from 9mm handguns on up to heavy military plasma ejectors, this range can handle them in an indoor, 'controlled' environment. There is even a special range for railguns. The disadvantage of this particular facility is hat it is only useful for relatively short ranges -- about two hundred feet. For anything else, one must visit one of the two outdoor ranges. The second 'facility' is located outdoors and must be rented by the hour. This is due to the fact that the 'targets' are placed in series about a thousand feet apart and one must generally use a vehicle to check them. Four 'steps' of targets provide a range of four thousand feet -- something to challenge even most high powered railguns and sniping rifles. This range is almost constantly in use by mercenaries and one must generally book at least a couple of days ahead. The last range is designed for heavy robots, power armor and vehicles. It is a two mile (about 11,000 feet) stretch of open field that looks like it was once grassy. It has been churned to open and dry brown earth by the machines that march over it. It is covered with craters and scars and like the previous range is almost always in use. There are a few bleachers at the very back 'safe' end of the range too, as it is not uncommon for a few observers to sit and watch these mighty machines going to town on their targets. Speaking of which, the targets themselves are a little bit unorthodox. Although there are a few 'standard' targets for precision weaponry the bulk of the shooting is directed towards eight shot-up, rusted old hulks of tanks. Some of them are so full of holes that one can literally see right through them but they do provide a bit more of a realistic target. Any weaponry is permitted here except for explosive and missile weapons. One must purchase training rounds filled with paint for these for about 100 credits a missile (Providing you return the empty canisters, much much more expensive if you do not) as the military wants to get as much life out of their targets as they can. Costs are modest: 10 credits an hour for the first range, 100 credits an hour for the second and third.

It is is in the early morning and the Range is fairly quiet at the moment. Rasputing has shown up with his small range bag. He has nice bag with a nice holster for a very large revolver. He is cleaning it at the moment, taking time to make sure that it is spotless for his lesson.

Caliopa arrives, her hair tied back, her ancient jeans hugging her figure. "I ain't late?" She questions as she dumps bags beside the range, her sunny smile in place despite the hour. "I bought my stuff, weren't sure if you had stuff..." She stops, giving him a smile, and offering him a bag, from which scents of food emit. "I got some stuff for breakfast..."

Rasputin grins and smiles, he quickly puts away his cleaning supplies, "Net, net. I am am beink up earlies mosting days. Breakfast is mine busiest meal." He ponders a few moments and tugs his beard, "Whatchaing bring for breakfest?"

Caliopa's smile widens and she tugs the bag open, revealing hot bacon rolls. "I'm always starvin' in the mornin'..." She explains, as she gets out her gun, preparing it for practice. "You are real familiar with yours then?" She asks quickly, leaving her food to one side as she readies herself.

Rasputin shrugs a bit, "I beink knowink it, but I having never learning the correct way for shooting. I blast away, but net hit muching."

Caliopa pauses, taking a moment to quickly eat as they talk. "The folks that taught me, they said it was 'bout the position you take, lookin' down your arms, keepin' your eye on the target..." She takes up her weapon then, demonstrating the way to hold it, turning towards the target. "See?"

Rasputin nods slowly and tugs his beard a moment, as he watches you and your stance. He thinks to himself a bit. He takes up his revolver, empty currently. He sites down range and tries to copy what you are doing with your pistol. Of course, his grip is kind of off, and his arms and lets are completely locked out.

She lowers hers, turning the safety off as she sets it down. She reaches out, gently correcting the grip, and speaking quietly. "You gotta have your arms and legs a piece more relaxed..." She explains, turning to show him once more. "See? You gotta be able to move a piece ..."

Rasputin nods slowly, "It being feelink so much more heavy than da lasers." He frowns a bit, and this time relaxes a little, almost too much. His arms now all close to his body, his legs very squat, almost too squat. He looks like he is doing a deep kne bend.

Caliopa glances over, biting her lower lip. She puts her weapon down once more, shaking her head, moving across to him. "Mebbe a piece less. Like you ain't spagetti but you ain't all rock too..." She moves behind him, adjusting his posture herself, standing close to his back.

Rasputin nods slowly, then not being used to others touching him, Rasputin goes a little ridged as you touch him. He then relaxes as you guide him into the correct posture. His arms return back to being very stiff, but slowly relax. "Da, da." His voice a little tense still, "Some movement, but net stiff, da?" He asks.

"Da... I mean, yeah. So you ain't gonna fall over when the kickback comes." She steps back, watching his position closely as she moves towards her own weapon. This time, she doesn't pick it up, nibbling on her lower lip thoughtfully.

Rasputin flexes a little bit, taking aim down range. He feels a little funny, then sets down his pistol. "Da, da. That is feelink gooding." He looks to you for a moment, "Is there beink something wrong?"

She shakes her head, Caliopa's smile breaking out. "I was jus' thinkin' I ain't a very good teacher." She smiles, turning towards the target, lifting her weapon, safety still on. "So you got the position, 'n' then, ..." She clicks safety off, and takes aim, firing and actually hitting the target.

Rasputin blinks as the sound rolls down the empty range. He tugs his beard, "Da, goodink shot." He looks to you, "Why you for thinkink you are net goodink teacher?" He tugs his beard concerned about the statement. He places his pistol on the gun table. "You seemink goodink to mine."

She shrugs lightly, lowering her gun, clicking on the safety. "It ain't somethin' I'm used to." She comments, turning to him. "Your go, give it a try. It ain't so hard, promise." She smiles up at him, "Aimin' for the red dot, see..."

Rasputin nods. He picks up the pistol, takes an OK stance. He pulls back the hammer, on his large revolver. He sites down range, staring at the back sites more than the front sites. He carefully pulls the trigger and *BOOM* the large caliber pistol rings out over the empty range. He doesn't even hit the target. He mutters to himself in Russian, and still holding the pistol in his right hand, tugs on his beard with his left hand. "

She nods, speaking quietly. "You got to look at the front sights, through them back ones, taking aim, see..." She comments quietly, standing behind him as she reminds him of the right position. "It ain't gonna come the first time, see. Takes practice..."

Rasputin tugs his beard. He puts his left hand back on the pistol. He sites down back through the front. He ponders a moment, "Da." He looks to you, "Dat OK to firink again? Da?"

She moves to the side of him, nodding slowly, "Real ok, you jus' gotta keep tryin' it. More you practice, the more feel you get for it." She moves back, giving him space to fire, watching his posture.

Rasputin nods slowly, "I beink fire the 5 leftink, OK?" He figures it is OK, so he puts some flex in his legs. But very little in his arms. Then pulls the hammer back. He aims through the back sites to the front site, and jerks the trigger, rather than squeezing it. This pulls his aim down and to the left, but at least this time he hits the paper, barelly in the lower left hand corner.

Caliopa watches, her face thoughtful as she works out the problems with his shooting. "Ain't bad..." She comments quietly, "You need a piece more flex in your arms, 'n' squeeze the trigger. It don't like bein' jerked..." Her comments are quiet, away from the others at the range.

Rasputin nods slowly, "Da. Slow slice, not quick tear." He chuckles, "Da." He pulls the hammer back slowly, takes aim. He is about to fire, then stops and adjusts his arms again. This time with a little more flex, he re-takes his aim. He slowly, squeezes the trigger. With another loud explosion of force the bullet flies down range. This time it strikes within the circle on the target. Not near the center by any means, but at least inside of the lower left of the main circle. "Da!" Rasputin explains, and fires a 2nd round. This time, not in the lower left but upper right. Still in the main cricle.

Caliopa leans back against the table, watching him, her smile lighting up her face. "That ain't bad at all! You jus' got to keep tryin', see how you go..." She picks up her weapons, taking a moment to clean it as he practiced.

Rasputin nods slightly, almost full focus on keeping his target and shooting. He pulls back the hammer, and slowly pulls the trigger. He scores another hit, this time it hits upper left. He pulls the hammer back again, and takes a few extra moments to sight. He carefully squeezes the trigger, and fires. This time getting closer to the red center dot. He smiles and pulls back the hammer, and fires again. Again he gets closer to the center. He pulls the hammer back again, and *click* the hammer throws forward. And Rasputing mutters in Russian, "Empty, da?" He shakes his head.

"Empty, da." Caliopa echoes giving him a warm smile. "See, I reckon you got the hang of it. Jus' a bit more practice. I gotta go, gotta get the garage opened up." She starts to pack up her things, leaving him with one more bacon roll to eat. "Again later in the week?" She offers.

Rasputin nods slowly, "Da, da. I will keep practicink all week, da?" He smiles a bit, "I be needink to buying more ammo. I will be running out soonink, otherwise."

Caliopa laughs, giving him a warm smile. "You keep practicin', 'n' I'll see you at lunch time." The reference to her habit of popping in to get her lunch is given with a smile as she turns to leave.

Rasputin nods slowly, "Da. Da. Spasibo Caliopa. Spasibo." He smiles, empties his revolver, and then begins to reload. Tags: caliopa, learning, rasputin