In sickness and in health
Training
Second day
Gritting her teeth, she talked into the mic of her ear piece, "I need someone to tell me its okay to kill him. Someone needs to tell me its alright to take this life."
She was pissed, but she was also equally scared. She remembered from training- you only point a gun if you are ready for the kill shot, there is no injuring or slowing down the person you have your gun pointed at; second day on the job and she was set up to kill. She was ready, on the very fringes of her mind, she was ready to pull the trigger, she just needed that extra, gentle, push.
It was like the whole world had dropped away, everything was quiet and still, she had tunnel vision. A monster stared at her, chin tilted up to look at her from its crouch against the wall, licking its chops, like she was a piece of meat, claws clenching and releasing, desperate to rip off her arms and play with her like a doll. With a definitive voice- the channel receiving and sending with perfect clarity, nothing to intercept or cut him off- the man on the other end said without missing a beat, "shoot." A shot rang through the stillness reaching the man even without the aid of the mic and he closed his eyes.
She stood, gun still pointed, eyes on the corpse, almost willing it to get back up, the thought of a life so easily taken and with her own hands, sickened her. She didn't know the specifics of what he had done, but put side by side, her crime made her a saint. That was her mind rationalizing it.
The man on the other end snapped his eyes open and ran out the back end of the semi and around the block to where she was still standing. Backup had arrived, relieving her of her gun as she stood frozen in a moment, they worked around her on the scene. He reached her and the moment he did, she collapsed in his arms, her whole body trembling.
Private training
He looked at her, all jokes aside, those green eyes of his losing their luster, "you need to know how to shoot." His eyes went between her and the neatly laid out tray of guns, their guts laid carefully beside.
She didn't argue, her attention brought to the tray she began to familiarize herself with the weapons laid out and he handed her a pair of ear muffs and shatter proof glasses. Slipping the glasses on, she let the ear muffs hang around her neck as he began to explain further the details of each weapon, the way to reload, where the safety was and the power behind each. He loaded a .40 caliber smith and wesson and handed it to her, side stepping around the tray of other hand guns to help her find her stance and fix her grip.
"Now, when you point a gun-"
"You need to be ready to kill what is on the receiving end. First thing they teach you when they put a gun in your hand."
"Right. Its all yours."
With a deep breath she set up like she was ready to club someone with a bat, facing forward, both hands on the gun, aggression screwing up her face.
"One hand," he chuckled, taking her left hand away from the grip. "Turn sideways to the target," he shifted her, both hands on her shoulders as he lined her up with the target. He then brushed the hair away from her right shoulder, exposing her neck and keeping the hair out of her line of vision. "Looking along your shoulder, down your arm, straight line down to the sights, bring up the gun."
He was making her nervous, her breathing a little off and she brought up the gun awkward and quick, so he stopped her, bringing his hands to the front of her shoulders and pulling them back.
"Not so fast. Slow your breathing," he brought his right arm to her hand pulling the gun up with her and straightening it out. "Hold it, don't grip." He reached forward with his left hand and loaded the chamber, his eyes on hers as he moved back to mirror her stance, his left hand resting over her pocket, too close perhaps, but not enough to throw her off, just enough to make it noticeable. "Breathe in, squeeze gently and exhale."
The bullet shot out with barely a kick back, but she could feel the entire thing course through her arm and to her spine, traveling down and making her quiver.
"Whoa." Her eyes grew and a bit wider and she laughed as the uneasiness fell away. He chuckled, giving her a wide smile as she realized and understood the power she held in her hand.
"I thought you used a gun before."
"Shot guns and black powder, yeah, all kicking back into my shoulder, but this looked harmless next to them. I stuck with the bigger guns," she laughed again.
"Ha, well then, sorry, nothing bigger. On the table at least," he smirked.
She chuckled. "How bout this one then?"
Gritting her teeth, she talked into the mic of her ear piece, "I need someone to tell me its okay to kill him. Someone needs to tell me its alright to take this life."
She was pissed, but she was also equally scared. She remembered from training- you only point a gun if you are ready for the kill shot, there is no injuring or slowing down the person you have your gun pointed at; second day on the job and she was set up to kill. She was ready, on the very fringes of her mind, she was ready to pull the trigger, she just needed that extra, gentle, push.
It was like the whole world had dropped away, everything was quiet and still, she had tunnel vision. A monster stared at her, chin tilted up to look at her from its crouch against the wall, licking its chops, like she was a piece of meat, claws clenching and releasing, desperate to rip off her arms and play with her like a doll. With a definitive voice- the channel receiving and sending with perfect clarity, nothing to intercept or cut him off- the man on the other end said without missing a beat, "shoot." A shot rang through the stillness reaching the man even without the aid of the mic and he closed his eyes.
She stood, gun still pointed, eyes on the corpse, almost willing it to get back up, the thought of a life so easily taken and with her own hands, sickened her. She didn't know the specifics of what he had done, but put side by side, her crime made her a saint. That was her mind rationalizing it.
The man on the other end snapped his eyes open and ran out the back end of the semi and around the block to where she was still standing. Backup had arrived, relieving her of her gun as she stood frozen in a moment, they worked around her on the scene. He reached her and the moment he did, she collapsed in his arms, her whole body trembling.
Private training
He looked at her, all jokes aside, those green eyes of his losing their luster, "you need to know how to shoot." His eyes went between her and the neatly laid out tray of guns, their guts laid carefully beside.
She didn't argue, her attention brought to the tray she began to familiarize herself with the weapons laid out and he handed her a pair of ear muffs and shatter proof glasses. Slipping the glasses on, she let the ear muffs hang around her neck as he began to explain further the details of each weapon, the way to reload, where the safety was and the power behind each. He loaded a .40 caliber smith and wesson and handed it to her, side stepping around the tray of other hand guns to help her find her stance and fix her grip.
"Now, when you point a gun-"
"You need to be ready to kill what is on the receiving end. First thing they teach you when they put a gun in your hand."
"Right. Its all yours."
With a deep breath she set up like she was ready to club someone with a bat, facing forward, both hands on the gun, aggression screwing up her face.
"One hand," he chuckled, taking her left hand away from the grip. "Turn sideways to the target," he shifted her, both hands on her shoulders as he lined her up with the target. He then brushed the hair away from her right shoulder, exposing her neck and keeping the hair out of her line of vision. "Looking along your shoulder, down your arm, straight line down to the sights, bring up the gun."
He was making her nervous, her breathing a little off and she brought up the gun awkward and quick, so he stopped her, bringing his hands to the front of her shoulders and pulling them back.
"Not so fast. Slow your breathing," he brought his right arm to her hand pulling the gun up with her and straightening it out. "Hold it, don't grip." He reached forward with his left hand and loaded the chamber, his eyes on hers as he moved back to mirror her stance, his left hand resting over her pocket, too close perhaps, but not enough to throw her off, just enough to make it noticeable. "Breathe in, squeeze gently and exhale."
The bullet shot out with barely a kick back, but she could feel the entire thing course through her arm and to her spine, traveling down and making her quiver.
"Whoa." Her eyes grew and a bit wider and she laughed as the uneasiness fell away. He chuckled, giving her a wide smile as she realized and understood the power she held in her hand.
"I thought you used a gun before."
"Shot guns and black powder, yeah, all kicking back into my shoulder, but this looked harmless next to them. I stuck with the bigger guns," she laughed again.
"Ha, well then, sorry, nothing bigger. On the table at least," he smirked.
She chuckled. "How bout this one then?"