2020-07-06 - Sharpshooter Tricks


Posse and Domino kidnap the Hunter for a day at an outdoor range.

Log Info:

Storyteller: None
Date: Mon Jul 6 23:19:46 2020
Location: Mutant Town

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Theme Song



Another day and another walk through Mutant Town. After her many patrols through the area and more than a couple leisure visits, Ava's begun to make the district an unofficial second home of sorts, frequenting some of the businesses and getting to know the good restaurants around. Under the bright sun of a hot summer day she's dressed down a little from her iconic denim jacket, keeping the black boots that seem to be one of only two pairs of footwear in her entire wardrobe (she has another in khaki), and pairing loose cut desert tan pants with a form-hugging black stretch-shirt that continues up to her neckline and is trimmed at the shoulder to fully expose her black cybernetics to the morning light. Her face at least is shaded by a flat cap and sunglasses; those aren't going anywhere.

Moving without any great haste, the cyborg ambles towards the heart of Mutant Town and fishes a water bottle from her pocket as she walks. A large but dilapidated cathedral looms overhead, functional but in less than stellar repair. It's a long shot to find the woman she's looking for there but in the course of walking as far as she has news has no doubt preceded her once more; the cyborg's wants to meet Hunter again - this time for gift giving.


Not many people are out and about in a lot of snug black clothing but Domino is one of them. The red van's air conditioner may be on for the comfort of everyone else, none of whom are currently present, but the layers of dark fabric soak up the rays through the windows and help to keep the driver good and toasty. Just as she likes it these days.

Hunting the head of the Pride isn't an easy task but between the two of them with better knowledge of Diya's areas of operation and good old supercharged luck, it's only a matter of time.

There's also binoculars and comms on hand. Real hi-tech today, no doubt.

Pulling up to a red light Neena looks out the window and brings up the magnifiers. Needles in haystacks have nothing on this albino. "Still negative on east side" gets softly piped into Ava's ear before she sighs and drapes the binocular hand over the top of the wheel. "Why couldn't you have supernatural feline-detecting senses or something?" she asks her own reflection in the rearview mirror.


"<Because it's called being a 'pussy magnet'. They come to me,>" Ava mutters as she ducks beneath the shade of a building and stakes out a mostly empty parking lot. "<How well do you know Hunter anyway?>" she asks, deciding to make light conversation while waiting for the cautious sniper to show herself.


"You do seem to be surrounding yourself with felines of questionable history lately," Neena casually suggests while flicking the turn signal and immediately getting a perfect merge with traffic.

"Mmh, some Russkie scrap who decided to make it a personal mission to watch over the downtrodden metas of the neighborhood. Likes the local soup kitchen and cathedral I pointed out earlier. Carries around a rifle valuable enough to put a roof over her head yet chooses to occupy a ruined parking structure in the DZ. Curiously accepting of my infernal co-pilot. Also nearly blew me up once, but that's kind of expected in my line of work. It's like a formal greeting."


"Is that why you hucked a grenade at me that one time?" the cyborg questions as she takes a short rest behind a pillar. Without trying to the white-haired vet's concealed herself from most of the street but knowing her quarry it shouldn't matter too much. It's summer. She's wearing black. Ava's left a scent trail that's probably a mile long.

"She's Russian? Immigrant or national?" she asks in surprise.


"It was a -plushie- grenade, Indie. Jeezus," Domino eyerolls but grins with a barely restrained chuckle. "Blame your tat for inspiring me. I like to think the formal greetings were handed out in high yields back in Ukraine."

Another turn at another intersection and the albino continues patrolling her perimeter. Anyone who might be watching might start to get suspicious of that van doing loops around Diya's immediate territory…

"Don't know for certain but her attachment and proficiency with that SVD sure is a point of interest. I mean, she's stuck on that sucker like you are with your Blackout. There's cheaper, better, more modern options with easier to find ammo and accessories but she's still out there rocking it like it's the fucking Cold War. You know that when magazines pop up for an SVD they -start- at a buck twenty-five? That's as much as the Hi Point!"


It may be rather frustrating to those few allies outside of the Pride, but the inability to pin down the usual haunts or easily locate Hunter is entirely intentional, and vital to the defensive strategies of the Pride as a whole. Other forces in the city - the PDB, bratva, Maggia and other organizations - know that if they come into Mutant Town, the Hunter will know. And the Hunter will hit them before they can ever find that target. Few of them realize what a consumate sniper she is; it is a skill she rarely uses these days where anyone can see her or the evidence of her kills. Even fewer actually know the Hunter is a woman, though more than did just a year ago. But all know to fear the Hunter. Not even fancy gimmicks like satellites, drones, and communication traces can find her, because she does so much old school.

But there are a few secrets to it. One of them is to scan Mutant Town instead for a large concentration of milling feral domestic breed cats. That clowder always gathers around whatever is Hunter's latest location. Another secret many outsiders use is instead connecting with the Pride, usually at the food kitchen, and getting directions. Of course, there's also the incredibly reckless move of instead causing a ruckus.

But the best, if not the fastest, is just to wander around Mutant Town. Most outsiders don't quite comprehend that once they are here, she can see them, hear them, and smell them, almost everywhere. It just seems ridiculous. But Hunter knows her territory, and knows those who enter it.

Despite Ava's enhanced cybernetic senses, there's not much warning. Soft footfalls blend into the background of all of the noise of a living, breathing part of the city. A whisper of fabric. A light scuff. Instead, Hunter just melts half out of the darkness of that deep shadow behind the cyborg. "Looking?" that soft, sing-song, mush-mouthed voice questions. No weapon visible, this is not a threat. Not really. But Hunter never does anything quite the obvious way.

Doing things the obvious way allows for things like the Razors to find her, or hurt her allies.


Ava's eye twitches at her new nickname. "Let's stick with 'Anodyne', Spot. I don't /like/ being from Indiana," she corrects flatly. "And you know that rifle went everywhere in the eastern bloc right? Vietnam, Germany, Afghanistan, heck I think India uses it."

Then a blonde and camo shadow detaches itself from the space around her and the cyborg turns in surprise to her new arrival. Recognizing the specter of Mutant Town for who she is, a smile graces Ava's lips. "Damn you're good." Not one for long introductions she gets straight to business. "Yeah, I got something for you: private outdoor range, 800 meters, and a box of 7.62 Soviet, no charge - just you, me, and that albino you helped liberate. You in?"


Neena laughs good-naturedly at Posse's distaste of the new nickname. "That's because there's still some sanity in you, girl. Of course, I've used several over the years. Should still have a few in my overseas collections, too."

While the cyborg's side of the conversation shifts to the metakitty Dom's suddenly hissing in annoyance as someone cuts her off, forcing a swift lane change and a too early turn. A turn which, as chance would have it, will point her directly toward the other two women.

"Patrol interrupted due to rampant idiocy, will be passing through your AO shortly."


The Hunter cants her head to the side, regarding Ava curiously, weighing and evaluating. One thing she is very unused to is anyone - ally or enemy - seeking her out for fun. There's some mental calculus and gymnastics to follow, as she evaluates the offer. Little of that actually shows on her face or in her eyes, but it's not hard to guess at given she is silent.

Maybe that's why she speaks so little?

Hunter eventually does let a couple of words out of the jail of her mind. "Range rules?" After all, most ranges require ID and licenses, neither of which does she have.


Ava waits patiently for Hunter to think things through. She's had practice. "Private range," the cyborg reminds. "Bullets only go down-range and if we start a contest, no flashing the competition in front of the firing line." That last part might be more for the lucky cat listening by radio.


Blink. The words being transmitted to Neena's ear are being directed toward someone else. Ava must have made contact! And she's on a collision course with them both already. Helpful. "Getting after party ideas already, are we?" Neena harasses Ava with another grin more heard than seen. "Might want to rethink that plan, day like today I'm likely to burn out your corneas if I show too much."


Hunter remains patiently inscrutable as she considers this. No ID or license required, apparently. Well, that does change matters. Diya normally only gets to practice very rarely these days, and only out in the Disaster Zone. Also, the ammo is not cheap. Granted, she never pays for it, just steals it from the caches of organized crime forces that try to operate in her territory. For the last several months she has been subsisting on the ammo taken from the caches of the Razors she and her allies defeated.

Replacing the ammo for her anti-materiel rifle has required Hunter to actually use some of her stolen cash for supplies for her arsenal, rather than giving it all away to the clinic, food kitchen and the like around Mutant Town. She feels bad about that.

"Agreed." That's all the response Ava gets, and then the Hunter melts back into the shadows, twists around behind the pillar and disappears.

She wasn't carrying a rifle, after all.


Ava smiles once more when she she gets the woman's agreement and moves a finger to her ear piece, leaving Hunter to handle herself. "<That's why I've gotta restrict it,>" she chuckles. "<Meet me at the church. She's off to get her range toy.>"


Neena air-kisses at the mic, unable to erase the amusement from her face. "Copy, three minutes out. Less if this moron figures out where the gas is."


Two minutes and fifty seconds later, just as Ava might start wondering and Domino is turning the corner to drive in front of that old, dilapidated cathedral, Hunter literally lands beside Ava with a frankly ginormous soft-pack case strapped to her back. As soon as the van pulls up she hops through the big sliding door and helps slam it back shut, disappearing inside and huddling low as if by instinct, clearly expecting Domino to zoom back away as if she had almost never slowed down or stopped.


"Yeah well I bet you'll arrive right when Hunter gets back," Ava dismisses. At this point she's openly skeptical of any bad luck befalling the combat Oreo. "Got any new rifles for this outing?"

And just like clockwork, three minutes later the cyborg is shaking her head as she hops in after the elusive blonde and climbs nimbly into the passenger seat from the rear compartment. "Spot what the hell is your life?" Cybernetic or not it's safety first as the bionic woman buckles herself in before turning back to acknowledge their third passenger. "Just stack your gear anywhere on the pile and get comfy. It's a bit of a drive."


"Considering your fondness for Armalites and mine for the Creedmoor I've got an AR-10 riding in back, plus a surprise rare bird."

"Heya Diya" Neena calls over her shoulder without so much as having to glance back in the mirror. She knows Ava's moves well enough to know that isn't her jumping into the back and no one -else- would be jumping in back there? The odds are well in her favor.

What the hell is her life? "Amazing and full of win" she nonchalantly replies with a shadow of a smirk. The other two can get situated as she pleases, this bus isn't stopping.

"Got drinks and sandwiches in the cooler, help yourself."


A soft voice murmurs, "Hellcat." from the back in acknowledgement. Diya does not try to shrug out of her softpack, nor does she uncurl or look around. She stays low as if she is being smuggled out of a hot LZ. She doesn't uncoil until they are well out of Mutant Town and most of lower-mid Manhattan. How does she know? She's not telling.


Ava doesn't react to their passenger's caution. It's something she's long-since accepted. Reaching back she snatches a sandwich for herself to munch on during the drive and wipes the sweat from her brow. "Nice. Looking forward to that. You did bring a fifty right?" she asks to Neena. The cyborg's own gun case isn't hard to spot; it's a massive metal-frame thing with an electronic lock and multiple inner layers. There's room enough for four or five guns to fit comfortably, and knowing the well-armed vet it's probably close to full.

When they reach the edge of the city Ava looks back with a reassuring smile at the blonde ride-along and taps a carbon-frame finger on the cooler, repeating the albino's offer. "Cold chow?"


Really it's no different from extracting a VIP from an active warzone in Afghanistan. Keep rolling, don't draw undo attention, and have a truck full of heat for if things go sideways. It may not be her most common gig but Domino's done this dance before.

"Oh, right. Almost forgot about Tiny," Neena answers Posse.

Her own guns are in locked black Pelican cases. They're also probably serving as a bench seat for Diya at the moment.

Traffic is … shockingly clear. There's still plenty of it but wherever the van goes the traffic simply flows. Even the traffic lights seem to shine upon them all as they exit the city, bound for the hillier upstate terrain.

"Sling a water my way, would ya?" she asks Posse. Soon following this is a glance back through the mirror to Diya, the albino silent but somewhat thoughtful.


Once they are well above Central Park, Diya does uncoil herself and sit up against the driver's seat, unslinging her softpack and setting it aside heavily, though she moves and acts as if it weighs slightly more than a feather. She eyes the cooler, and opens it to fetch a water first, contenting herself with that as she considers matters.

Hearing Domino's request, Diya opens the cooler and hands a bottle towards Ava, then fishes out one of the sandwiches and huddles in back, nibbling slowly and delicately. It's like she refuses to leave a crumb behind. After a bit, she murmurs softly, "Thanks." Then more water.


Ava accepts the water from Diya and uncaps it before passing the bottle to their albino driver. Teamwork!
The nearly silent thanks from the back doesn't quite turn the white-haired woman's head again but it does plant another smile on her lips while her eyes scan the traffic around them. "Finally open road," she murmurs.


Some driving later…

Tucked away in the hills and woods is a little slice of medium range heaven. A small but well groomed firing line has gravel underfoot and sturdy benches set up for those not wanting to lie on the ground. Ahead a sunny valley opens up with steel targets dotting the various distances in clear graduations. There's an outhouse and a wooden post covered with the world's tiniest roof shielding a first aid kit and a set of air horns. There's enough space to 'seat' five so there should be just enough for these three and all of their toys.

The van pulls up almost right beside the lane and shuts down, they'll only have to haul their gear a couple of feet from here.

"Might be a tad limited on distance for the bigger stuff but it doesn't get much better than this," Neena suggests while stretching out. "Like the land that RO's forgot."


Diya perks up almost silently, though sharp ears may pick up some sniffing as she seeks to draw in more air than her usual breathing, to sample the favors upon it. Being out in the wild green spaces always speaks to her tiger, and Diya has to gently remonstrate with Amur Khatun. No, they will not be hunting like that just now.

One they arrive, Diya climbs out and slings on her own softpack, then helps - easily - with the rest of the packages. Ava said there would be no ID, no licenses, and she is not smelling any threats nearby, but her ears are perked just in case.

Air horns will not be welcome.


Ava unbuckles and rolls back over the cooler to follow Diya out the back of the van, not at all because she wants to savor the air conditioned cool for a few seconds more. Snatching her own case as she hops out the cyborg grabs a few ammo boxes then notices the blonde's own load and stacks on a few more. Her boots crunch reassuringly into the gravel, gripping into it with deep treads almost better than they were holding onto the pavement back in town. The bionic vet takes a deep lungful of wooded air, a few degrees cooler than the concrete jungle, and casts her eyes out at the targets as she arranges the ammo and weapons around the firing lanes. If she minds being downwind of Hunter, it doesn't show.


Fortunately there's enough tree coverage to provide some shade at the lanes and for vehicle parking, also a blessing for handling black guns and black cases after an afternoon of use. Neena's three are unlocked one at a time, getting a little bigger with each case.

Sure enough, the first is an AR-10 but not in the usual sense. Dimensionally and in weight it feels a lot more like its 5.56mm cousin, it's only the chunkier magazine which gives it away as something more.

The second leaves her grinning a bit at Diya. The gun actually..rather looks a whole lot like Hunter's SVD but with some kind of suppressor on the front and the magazine and grip too close to the shoulder in the back. It's a bullpup Dragunov! "Since we were breaking out the rimmed stuff thought I'd join the party."

The third is, curiously, -another- bullpup. A semi-auto Gepard GM6 Lynx in .50 BMG. "We may owe the owner of this joint some bucks after they see what happened to their plates."


Diya watches Domino open her cases, and a tiny smile creases those lips that seem to incessantly try to hide all expression; woman would be Hell if she played poker, but she loves those weapons.

The dirty and disheveled, threadbare blonde moves to another table and lays out her softpack, then puts down the other pieces she picked up, making sure everything is range-safe and ready. Then Hunter moves back to the table with her softpack, and opens it up, revealing the separator and two very different rifles, one strapped down on each side.

On one side, quite easily anticipated, likes a Dragunov SVD-63, an old warhorse of Soviet and Russian sniper rifles suited to the 7.62mm rounds. On the other side is a much larger and heavier KSVK 12.7mm, otherwise known as a Degtyarev. There are only enough rounds for a single magazine in there currently. That's all Diya has been able to obtain since the incident at New Horizons.


"If you're pummeling it with buck-a-round ammo that's just a range fee," Ava jokes as she begins setting up her own gear while keeping half an eye on the women with her. A low whistle echoes off the trees from where the cyborg is standing and without any propriety she openly stares at the collection. "Aaaaand now I feel inadequate. Shoulda brought a Gustaf…"

Ava's own collection isn't unfamiliar to a certain albino but it's healthy in its own right. First out comes America with an M1 Garand in .30-06, M1 carbine in .30 carbine, and a behemoth all steel pistol that, for some reason, was sharing case space with the two rifles. An obligatory and well customized black rifle comes out of the next compartment complete with a suppressor and forest green mag release, coming in barely at full rifle length with the can included. Then with a mischievous glance towards Neena, Ava opens her super-case's last compartments to retrieve a Mosin and a Kalashnikov with a distinctly thick piston tube. Despite their age the wooden stocks of the cyborg's older weapons, while not flawless enough to be called mint condition by any stretch, are well sanded and polished. It's a collection she displays more than shoots.


Neena's expecting to see the oldschool SVD, it's a total given considering it's practically Hunter's right arm. The KSVK, however… "Oh sweet mother of mayhem, I think we're gonna owe the owner a new RANGE. How—? I mean, I'm one to talk about having hardware that isn't legally imported into the country but that is a -massive- beast for an alleycat."

Ava's own offerings includes some of her usual staples but with a few other tricks thrown in to keep the albino on her toes. "Oh sweet, you brought the Saiga. I am absolutely taking some alone time with your girl, Av."

With everything unpacked Dom stands there with one arm crossed in front to support the opposite elbow, holding a water bottle up high as she looks from one collection to the next. "Aaand speaking of the Cold War, would you look at us three. Got the Red Army on one side and the Yanks on the other."

The impressive display which altogether costs more than the van they drove in on spurs the merc into action, offering eyes and ears for the other two. "Don't know about you ladies but I'm ready to get this party started. Let's bring the noise."


The quietly laconic Hunter doesn't bother explaining how it is she got the KSVK into the country. But she does seem to smile - another hint of one on those silent lips - as Domino cracks wise about the firepower they've brought, and how many Russian weapons are in their combined collection.

Of course, now that she knows Hunter is Russian, Ava will be less surprised by her apparent preference for rifles of their manufacture.

Diya takes the eye- and ear-coverings given and checks them out thoroughly, adjusting carefully. She pulls out filter plugs from her pocket and inserts them in her nose as well. Her senses are at least as acute as Posse's at their most amped-up; and she doesn't have a switch to flip to tone them down.


Well it's out in the open now and as Ava looks over to the blonde, Diya doesn't deny it. "You're Russian?" she echoes, surprised at first but after a moment smiling. "I guess that means you missed Afghanistan. I was hoping we could trade deployment stories." Unpacking her own ear protection, she squashes it on over her hat but doesn't bother switching out her wrap-around sunglasses for a ballistic pair.
"And Spot I think that makes you the merc caught in the middle," Ava teases, reaching over to rib the albino.


«This is becoming a regular theme» Domino fluently replies in Russian with a smile. "Though there are worse places to be caught in the middle of."

Attention is paid to the other two for the various bits of protection before the albino plunks a set of electronic muffs over her own ears. Then it's to the rifle table with a "Well, someone's gotta be first." The AR-10 is brought into her hands, coiling the sling about her left arm and wedging the stock in tight against her shoulder. With a foot coming onto the bench seat she leans into it and lines up the sights. "Fire in the hole."

The sharp *crack!* from the muzzle brake is followed by two seconds of a thunderous echo before the metallic *pang!* can bounce back from the eight hundred mark.

She flicks the safety back on and disentangles herself to set the rifle back down. "Bar's been set."


"Da." Yep. That's the laconic Hunter's entire response to Ava's questions. No real elaboration, there, she just doesn't deny it any longer. She recognizes this may mean a diminishing of the contact and friendship that had been building with Ava, and respects that; they do have differences in their backgrounds, and she is uncomfortable lying. She much prefers the simple expedients of silence and misdirection.

Diya carefully preps the SCD and then approaches the line, taking a knee without the magazine in place. She looks down the barrel of the rifle without even using the scope - it's there, but she's not using it right now - and nods at the sight of the recent gleaming mark on Domino's target. She closes her eyes, adjusting inwardly, as her hand fetches the loaded magazine and lifts it up into place, slapping home and testing the release switch to be sure everything is seated properly, all in one smooth motion as the slide then racks the first round into the chamber. Those are the movements of a calm, cool professional with untold hours of practice and live-fire action.

One little breath, as the eyes come open, adjusting to using the scope as minute changes are made and then one round is squeezed off, sharply, to set her sighting. At this piddling range, with a rifle she knows so well, it's definitely dead-center.

Almost as an afterthought Diya's forward hand comes away and snatches up the spent brass, tucking it into her pocket without even looking.


|ROLL| Posse +rolls 1d10 for: 2


The switch to Russian draws a stare of incomprehension from the American on her right, but Ava backs up with a grin as she watches Neena shoulder her AR-10 and send the first round down-range. A soft laugh follows the distinctive *ping* of contact from far too distant a target to be any of the close plates. "Missed the three plate, Spot. Your zero's way off." In the face of that shot the only thing to do is deadpan snark while the white-haired woman fishes attachments out of her case and clips them into place along her belt, adding extra pouches for mags and loose ammo.
Then Diya takes her sniper to the line and Ava rocks her weight onto one leg, setting a hand on her hip as she watches the sniper work. Half of the reason she planned this day was to get the dirty blonde on the line after all. The cyborg's in no rush to expend her own ammo.

"Khorosho. That's how you say it, right? How's your zero?" she asks conversationally after the sweet ring of lead on steel reaches her covered ears. Snatching up her Mosin, Ava grabs a single round of rimmed 7.62 and drops to a squat at the line while picking out the distant target with her eyes. The tawny vet squints at the range and snugs up her two-point sling and then the rifle itself after dropping the round into place and locking the bolt forward. There's a lengthy pause as she trains the plain iron sights eight hundred meters away and makes a shift for elevation. Then a second round of Soviet caliber discharges downrange.


Ava smiles dryly and silently backs away from the firing line.


|ROLL| Domino +rolls 1d10 for: 2


|ROLL| Domino +rolls 1d10 for: 5


It's a rare opportunity to see how Hunter approaches the trade, not to mention an opportunity to watch a Dragunov in action when it isn't Neena pulling the trigger or having someone else shooting one -at- her. There aren't any surprises, just a quick clean kill neatly landing upon the albino's own. Although when the brass gets spit out of the ejection port the flicker of motion causes her eyes to dart in the spent metal's direction. "I'm gonna have to find us a longer range."

Last up is Ava who takes up (or down?) a stance that's as classic as the rifle she's shooting..and misses! "That AR trigger's gotcha spoiled Av," she teases. "Really stacking the deck against yourself with that old gal."

Rather than go back to the Creedmoor AR she retrieves Posse's 107 and steps back to the line, rocking and locking a mag then reaching underneath to hook and rack the charging handle.

"Splitting the difference at four" she calls before squeezing off a shot and almost immediately getting an unexpected double-tap from the lightning fast action. The first round zips over the target and smacks into the dirt while the second catches the plate along the upper right edge. Neena's barely recovered before letting out a "Woo! Holycrap!"


Diya watches the shot from Ava, eyebrow arching slightly. After the echoes are done, she murmurs softly, "Steady." No Russian from her for the woman who has clearly shown she does not understand it. Hunter uses such few words, the last thing she can afford is to use them and find them completely useless to the intended audience.

The Russian sniper watches Domino's demonstration and tilts her head slightly, considering the other woman's posture and movements to pick apart where that went wrong. Her perceptiveness and skill make it clear: not only was she a top markswoman, she was likely also an instructor. "Brace down." she murmurs. Dom wasn't that far off; a simple shift of her fore-handed position of elbow would correct for most of the slide on that pair of shots.

Diya gets up, then, moving back to her table to put down her SCD and pick up the KSVK. This time she lays all the way down, taking a bead at the longest-range plate. "Safe!" she warns sharply, turning her head left, then right, to visually inspect the range. She checks on both other shooters as well, and then centers herself again. "Clear!" she calls out, as she then picks up the magazine and slots it in place smoothly.

Why so formal? The answer comes as Diya breathes out … and then the range explodes. Even their hearing protection is somewhat overcome by the 108mm-long cartridge's explosive power, like a small howitzer as it hurls the projectile at incredulous speeds down-range. This is no mere 'plink' off of the plate; the plate is punched clean through leaving a gaping hole, and the shale hill bursts with dust and debris instantly. The others have to wait for that to clear before they can quite see the force which has not just ripped a hole in the plate, but ripped the plate off one of its hanging pins, dangling now by a single corner.

And then that front hand snaps out to grab that huge brass cartridge as it bounes away.


"I ain't doing this pretty old girl any favors but she ain't accurized either. We're meant for 6-plate shooting. Maybe you two snipers can show me proper shooting technique sometime," Ava tosses back casually. The cyborg is /very/ at home with range banter and as the scent of gunpowder wafts across her nose it puts an easy smile on her face that's seldom seen elsewhere.

"Knew you couldn't resist that one. Enjoy," she grins as Neena takes the line next with her mythical AK in hand. The double-tap earns a brow-lift in surprise and Ava laughs in the aftermath as the weapon's responsive action leaves the albino briefly stunned. "I /told/ you it shot smooth. Is 5.45 too much gun for ya, Spot? Should I bring one of your niners?"

Generally just enjoying herself on the range, the white-haired vet quiets back down when she spots Diya grabbing the biggest gun present, and settles in just behind the shooting bench to watch the fireworks.

And what a firework it is.

"First confirmed kill goes to Diya."


"Nothin' a little elevation can't fix" Neena says back to Diya with a light smirk. "Man, that trigger is something else. Shot a lot of service rifles but never anything quite like this." Back to Ava, she kids in turn "I don't know. Think I need to get permission from my SO first!"

Then the other cat goes for the Soviet fifty cal. "Looks like it's hammer time" the albino calls with an expression which just immediately -lights the hell up.- Not only does she step back from the firing line but she moves to stand further behind Diya. She'll even reach over and tug Ava closer if she doesn't move to the 'safe zone', herself!

"Ever been around a fixed barrel AMR?" she asks the cyborg while watching Diya set up for the shot. "The muzzle brakes are shaped different, they put a hell of a lot more force coming back." She motions at a forty-five degree angle from the business end. "Anything caught over there is going to feel like it's getting kicked in the chest."

Once the portable howitzer is chambered Dom is all grins when she calls "Send it!" Then comes the shockwave through the ground, scattering rocks and knocking debris all over the place. The sound of the impact is like a sledgehammer to a gong..and the albino can -not- stop -cackling.- "BULLSEYE! Wait..hang on… Nope, it's still hanging by a thread. Target remains."

Leaning closer to Diya with a toothy grin, Dom asks "Hey kitty. Comp ya five spares for one on target?"


Diya gathers her spent cartridge and adds it to her pocket, then sights through the dust cloud to confirm downrange. When done, she glances up at Domino and considers, holding up her trigger hand with all five fingers splayed out. She said five, right? That offered, Diya nods in agreement, then sets the safety, sets down the stock, and then rolls away and kipups to her feet. Then she points at Ava. "You, too." Everyone should get one chance at this.

That done, the homeless vet and unclean blonde moves away from the line, allowing the other two to debate who will go next while she just soaks it in. This kind of comeraderie is something she has not known in over half a decade. It is something she has ached for, silently. That hint of a grin is back.


Ava smiles widely, as much at the showy kipup as the offer to unload a round from the beastly rifle. Not one for vibrant expressions herself, the American vet's gaze glows with a warmth that affirms Diya isn't alone in that regard as two pairs of green eyes meet behind the firing line. A flesh and blood hand reaches out, clasping solidly on the Russian woman's shoulder. "And you should run a mag through my Saiga. It's a little nicer than standard issue."

"Go on, Spot. Fifty bucks you don't knock it down!" she calls, conceding the next shot to the albino.


|ROLL| Domino +rolls 1d10 for: 7


Neena confirms the number with a nod. That's right, a full mag's worth for one down the pipe. Sure it's expensive but someone here is homeless while someone -else- could rake in triple digit earnings in an hour or two at any bar of her choice!

She's about to push the cyborg toward taking the next shot but Ava immediately bounces it right back to the merc. Watch her not argue! With a youthful glee she kicks her feet apart and drops down to the ground in one fluid motion, settling behind the monster of a gun to track what remains of that furthest plate. It's already wrecked so why not finish the job?

And then Posse puts money on the bet. "Fifty for a fifty? You're on."

Out at eight hundred meters the perforated plate is still gently rocking around from the single chain yet holding it upright. This time Whitey doesn't rush it, muttering "Sloooow and sexy" as, for one brief moment time seems to stop and the world around her disappears..right up until she brings the thunder.

She's still recovering from the resulting flinch after the metal plate gets ripped free, the last bolt punched through as the plate flicks around like a top before landing in a spray of rock and dirt.

The bolt is unlocked and open, kicking the spent brass into an awaiting palm but she continues to look downrange. "I have -got- to get me one of these."

Roll back to feet, spin around to face cyborg, then poke her in the sternum with the empty casing with a smile. "I'd say double or nothing but it appears that we've lost our target. Go have some fun."


Diya glances around again after the shot, then she touches Ava gently on the fleshy forearm to get her attention, patiently drawing it away from the shot, the aftermath, and Domino. Once Ava looks at her, Diya lifts her fingers of that hand to point forefinger at one eye, middle finger at the other. Then she gestures around them, all around the range to the sides and rear especially. "Watching?" she asks, waiting for an answer. What is the chance that someone is out here watching them?

As soon as Posse clarifies that it is moderately unlikely that they are being observed, Diya then scoots over to one of the shacks, pulling out a plate and chains which she spotted earlier. Because she tends to pay very, very close attention to all of the tiniest details. Then Diya sprints towards the line … and LEAPS! She sails through the air, landing quite a good bit downrange, dropping into a roll and sprinting the last several feet to the pins, where she scrabbles up and hangs the new plate, then literally squeezes the chain closed with her bare hands.

Diya does then scoop up the remains of the old plate, scrabbles back down to solid footing and sprints briefly to leap and land back on the shooting line. There. All done.

"Live line."


Ava takes a moment to check their surroundings slowly and carefully, then shakes her head. "All clear," she assures before turning back to Neena. "Hah! Nice shot. And for double I'll— oh come on!" Seeing Diya dart ahead of the firing line from the edge of her vision, the bionic vet makes a momentary glance at her rifle before taking off after her, passing the albino at a sprint.
"Cease fire! Oscar mike!" is all Neena gets in passing. Then, it's a foot race, pitting the tiger mutant against RESCUE's best in ground-pounding cybernetics. With Diya's head start it's not much of a contest at first but coming up on the target a full half mile away there's room to make up a little ground.

Skidding into a crouch beside the ruined plate, Ava alternately pants and chuckles as she works the ruined target off its chain and hangs the new one into place, pinching the rings on her side shut between two metallic fingers in sync with the blonde mutant's bare hand. "Let me help ya with that, sister."

And then just like that it's half a mile back to the little black and white speck at the firing line. Looking strangely as the tiger-woman vaults into the air to close the remaining distance, Ava crouches and tries a long-jump that carries her the last ten or so meters and just barely vaults her clear of the tables. Another gravel-chewing skid sees the white-haired American come to a stop before standing back up and smiling across to Diya with a lively look in her eyes. "You're really something."


Just as soon as Domino offers Posse a turn on the cannon Hunter is -gone-..and then Ava is, too!

By the time they return Neena hasn't moved an inch, just..watching even as that spent fifty cal casing slips from her fingers and pings against the stones underfoot.

"Nice trick, Leggy von Thighmaster" she deadpans to Diya. Ava she already -knew- could do some pretty crazy things with all of those upgrades. Maybe not THAT crazy, but..jumping the majority of -eight hundred meters-…

"Y'all are makin' me feel out-classed here" she sighs then picks up the dropped shell. "Well, one of you gets dibs on the virgin target. I'll join in on the trigger time but that's a big Hotel November on the shuttle run."


Diya smirks at Domino, shaking her head at the nickname, and then glances at Ava with a smile. It's not often she has someone who can even almost keep up with her. Even though she lives amongst mutants every day, that kind of keeping up, especially with militarily proficient and experienced people, has been almost nil for her in all that time.

Once the ruined plate is set down, Diya settles back to watch in the safezone behind the shooting perch, motioning Ava forward to take her turn. "Range clear."


|ROLL| Posse +rolls 1d10 for: 10


"Hey ask Roni nicely enough and I bet she'd hook you up," Ava assures to Neena. "What, you get bored of life always working out lucky for ya? Ever think of just surviving off scratch tickets?" Getting her breath back under control, the bionic vet nods to Diya and steps behind the Degtyarev, falling into prone in a way that might have been more comfortable with a plate carrier on, then snuggling up close and friendly to the bipod-mounted behemoth and all 100cm of barrel. She takes her time scanning over the controls and settling in against the plastic cheek plate as she finds her grip then settles her eye behind the scope.
"Clear!" she calls out, breaking her weld halfway to rack a fresh round into the chamber. "Firing!" Then there's a lapse of silence. The cyborg's form-hugging top swells with an inhaled breath then shrinks as the air seeps out quietly and deeply, then for a moment her breathing stops.


Exorcised by a three hundred grain powder charge, the third anti-material round of the day slips the surly bonds of Earth and blasts a V-shaped smokescreen in its wake. The target answers before the distinctive metal ring finishes its race back to the firing line and Diya's freshly hung steel plate swings in neat symmetric fashion forward and back with a new spalled hole in dead center.

Ava switches hands to grab the bolt and draw it back with a firm, authoritative rack before looking over her shoulder at Diya with a smile. "Nice gun. It almost shoots itself."


Normally Neena would be cheering at the picture perfect bullseye. There'd probably be some sarcasm or encouragement, too! But her attention immediately goes elsewhere with the telltale sound of Ava unlocking the bolt then sharply retracting it.

Then comes the deep *pung!* of brass snapping out into the open.

Suddenly the albino is in the freaking air, doing a back-breakingly sharp twist clear over the cyborg as she catches the massive shell before it can hit the gravel. Just as quickly she's landing cleanly upon her feet in a crouch.

A second later there's a quick hiss as the shell is bounced back and forth in her hands, fumbled, then dropped.

Neena spins around on her heels with hands hiding behind her back, looking to the other two with a perfectly blank and innocent expression. "What?"


Diya watches this and claps, applauding most of all Ava's patience to zero the shot in so cleanly. Then she stops to watch Neena's display, and cannot help the smirk at the 'ow ow ow too hot' afterwards. She would offer some ointment, but she has none. "Forget?" she questions the Hellbino.


"Spot what—" Ava's head whips around when Neena's shadow passes over her and the vet is halfway into a crouch when she stops and just… watches.
Still riding the exhilaration of the round she shot off, the albino is given a very tight-lipped smile that threatens an open laugh as she double-checks her weapon then climbs to her feet with a hand resting judgementally on her hips. "Nice cat-like reflexes. Whiskey tango foxtrot, over?"


"I have no idea what you're talking about" comes Neena's nonchalance before her attention goes straight to Ava, "Perfect shot! Now give my luck back."


"Okay, look. Sometimes hellkitty gets a little ..excited. You two kept catching your brass before, I think it wanted to play. Just..don't mind me," she grunts before going back to the firing line to take Ava's Mosin and slap the bolt closed.



Seeing her joke - such as it was and what there was of it - fall flat and unremarked, the Russian sniper shrugs, but that ghost of a smile on her lips remains. She does comment to Domino, "Twenty? Will pay." Just how will the homeless illegal alien soldierly catperson pay? Good question. But she does not explain.

Done, Diya turns and returns to her SVD on her softpack on the table, gathering it up again and returning to the line, settling down in her space. Perhaps they are done devastating the range for a bit? She lays down the SVD and takes aim at the furthest target … but her hand remains off the handle and trigger entirely, and the magazine remains ejected. Range safety.


Ava smiles knowingly at the albino as she sulks by way of letting off a .30-06 with half-aim. "Sorry Spot that was skill. You'll have to learn that outta me," she retorts before bending down to collect the KVSK and walking it back to Diya. "You want to destroy some more steel? If we're doing that we should put the old target against a berm or we'll be re-hanging 'em all day." To say nothing of the cost.
"Zero to your heart's content. We've got plenty of 7.62R," the cyborg assures, patting Diya's shoulder in passing before she moves down the line to her own guns and snatches up her black rifle.


Ava gets a monochromed smirk. "Keep your skill. It's hot."

Another chunk of brass gets flicked into the air but Neena doesn't have to dive for this one, reaching out to let it neatly drop down into her palm like she knew exactly where it was going to be. "There it is." Her luck, maybe!

Diya is given a sly grin, asking "Going hunting next weekend? I'll see what I can scare up, most of the good Soviet stuff is overseas. I might have enough for that order."

Noting the empty Dragunov and the patient feline, the albino motions onward. "We're all behind the line and eared up. Go nuts." There's enough room for everyone to get in on the action!

"Oh, but…" she cuts back in, clearing and setting down the Mosin to pick up her SVU and rest it on its bipod beside Hunter. "Take that for a spin. Trigger's not as great but with all of the urban work you do I think you'll find the shorter length and suppressor quite agreeable."


Diya's response to Domino is slow; she seems to lose herself in the slow methodology of readying the weapon, then disarming it, three times in a row. There's something there, but she does not explain, just stays at it, with only a sight nod of her uncovered greasy and unkempt blonde head at Ava's hand on her shoulder.

Then the response comes: "Being hunted." But the tone is something deep, grim, and … darkly gleeful. Diya is Okhotnik, the Hunter; and whomever is plain stupid enough to hunt her is certain to get far more than they bargained for.

"Warning. Range clear. Going range hot." What follows, then, as Diya slaps the magazine into place, racks the slide, and maintains her sight picture. And then the fire begins. The shots are just less than a second apart, as she empties the magazine at the target, each landing with its own distinct 'plink' against the distant plate.

Anyone using sufficient optics will be able to see that Diya quiet purposefully ringed the huge hole Ava blasted in the newly-hung plate. And then put tiny divots at 10-O'clock and 2-O'clock. Like little cat ears.


Ava can't help but grin at Neena's comment as she pats the handguard of her AR-15. "If you want urban I've got you covered here. Accurized heavy intermediate." Seeing where the day is headed the cyborg takes the opportunity to pull a couple loading tools from her pouches and fill her magazine from an ammo can. Once Diya calls the range she brings her rifle to high ready and inserts the magazine with a reassuring click before dropping the barrel and fingering the controls. She's about to follow the Russian's first shot downrange but then the green-eyed American pauses, blinks, and sweeps her scope across the field until she sights in on the blonde's target.
There's a lapse of silence as Diya's last round echoes off the trees . Ava's low whistle doesn't quite make it through ear pro. "Spot I think you've been called out."


Neena slowly looks through the optics of her AR then whistles low. "Well. That was some kind of awesome." Ava got a hole in one. Diya did some wicked speed art. "Does this mean I'm gonna have to step up and do something noteworthy?" She glances to the cyborg then playfully rolls her eyes, "That'd be a yes. Eugh, I hate trying to do tricks on command." It doesn't always work!

Ava's AK becomes her rifle of choice again, because she did so well with it before! "Stiff competition around here. No pressure." Her focus goes downrange, keeping the AK at low ready as she waits for..something.

Up snaps the rifle, the first shot pulled WAY low and left. A second shot immediately follows, this one pulled way high and right.

Normal eyes may not notice the first shot hitting the dirt and skipping off of a hidden rock, flicking back into the air and spinning away before the second shot -impacts the first in flight- with a spark. The collision sets the second round ricocheting back on target to impact square into the forehead of Diya's catface.

"Rimshot" Neena beams without letting in that she is -so freaking glad that worked when she wanted it to.-


There's not a lot of forehead there to hit, what with the giant hole Ava made with that anti-material round; but the shot hits. And both of the observers have the ability to see that well, and that far, without much effort at all.

"Hellcat's luck." Diya comments, with a wry grin. She ejects her magazine and racks the slide open, because that's just how it is done, as she watches the others' shots. It's fun to show off for amusement, rather than because lives are on the line. Rather rare for her these last seven years.


"Spot remind me to get you a repeating musket for Christmas," Ava quips as she shakes her head while fighting a smile. It's a truly ridiculous shot to see no matter how Neena pulled it off. Looking across the range at the sea of steel plates, the cyborg sighs softly. "Well heck if we're showin' off…"
The AR clack of her rifle precedes a subtle brush of the bionic vet's ambidextrous safety as she seats the weapon into a proper shoulder weld with added back-pressure from her foregrip. She's aiming at a closer target, much closer, but she's also slinging a carbine instead of a full rifle. A staccato string of comically small pops vent out the end of her suppressor as five rounds paint an inverted V across her target in a brisk but unsteady rhythm then the black-suited vet switches shoulders and hands to put two left-handed rounds in the middle, forming a clear if not perfect 'A' with her impacts.
As steel rings from the last shot and Ava makes her weapon clear and safe the completed the final note completes the tune for Shave and a Haircut.


"Hellcat's luck" Neena confirms with an idle head-bob. "But that shit with the supersonic pictogram? Bloody -epic.- I've -never- seen someone rock a full power rifle like that. Gotta find you some thirty round mags." … "Hoooolycrap. I need a drink," she exhales while slumping against one of the benches.

Ava gets another grin and an incredulous "-Musket?-" Her tune quickly changes to "Ooh — she's gonna do it! C'mon Av, rock that shit!"

The smoke hasn't had a chance to fully vent from the suppressor when the albino is laughing! "Girl, I always knew you could dance. Didn't know you could sing, too! You've earned -that- A."


As an exceptionally talented sniper, Diya has never needed larger, more voluminous magazines. Which does not mean she would say no to them when offered! She nods and says nothing; if Domino chooses to include such with her requested additional 12.7mm rounds, she will be appropriate grateful at that time.

Ava's demonstration earns a soft golf-clap from the stretched out, belly-laid sniper. It has been so very long since she has been with others who can - and will - show off like this. It aches; but the ache is tinged with sweet as well as bitter memories. She will likely be grumpy after this for days. But it is a nice interlude, and she will not hasten its end.


"It's just practice," the cyborg on the end responds with a humble smile that's at odds with the competitive gleam in her eye. If either woman wants to aim at shorter targets there's probably more where that came from.
"Three hundred AAC Blackout," she adds for Diya's benefit. "Like your 7.62x39 but runs in an M4 and goes subsonic very nicely. I've got super and subsonic loads you can try."

Refilling her magazine and locking it back into place, Ava takes a high ready again and looks across the firing line as she flips her safety. "Now let's get back to ringing some steel. Fire freely, girls."


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