(no subject)

[acts_of_gord]

When PIaDOS reported that the Borealis' radio scanners had picked up a new distress signal, Gordon hadn't entirely believed it. The analysis the AI had done so far indicated that it was probably a real signal, though, and probably of human origin- or at least originating on human equipment. Breen was of human origin too, after all. If they were going to respond to the supposed human distress call in Australia, they had to be careful; they had to be prepared.

For Gordon, a good portion of that preparation involved taking out most of his arsenal and heading for the nearest door. Luckily it opened onto the Bar before anyone saw him and thought to ask why Dr. Freeman was walking around the Borealis with enough guns to collapse a police buy-back program's funding. The Bar is kind enough to provide targets as soon as he comes by- and a wheeled rack for better organizing the ones he's not using while he's shooting another. He's good with this.

Anyone who heads outside today is likely to hear the sound of gunfire. Anyone who heads in the gunfire's direction will spot a largely unimpressive-looking physicist bundled up in dark blue clothes appropriate to the Scottish winter climate of the area behind Milliways, his hat pulled down as far as he can get away with, doing very terrible things to an array of targets with one firearm after another. Nothing larger than the pulse rifle, though. The missile launcher's for special occasions. As far as the gravity gun goes, he'll do that later, after he's put everything else back. For now? He's just shooting.


[tinytag: Voodoo (Medal of Honor), Chekov]

Comments

[boston_bruiser]

If Gordon looks to his left, he may see a man in a conspicuously unmarked polo shirt and jeans running an El Presidente drill against a trio of silhouette targets.

Voodoo's M4 is on a nearby table - he'll practice with that later. For now, he's trying to improve his drill time. His personal best is just under five seconds. Now he's shooting for four and a half seconds.

Totally botherable, by the way.

(OOC: Slowtimed because of school. Back Room was right, this is addictive!)

[acts_of_gord]

Yeah, Gordon's going to pause and watch that for a while. The entirety of his own formal firearms training was five months of extremely basic stuff at Black Mesa. He's had some teachers here, but he doesn't remember this particular drill being part of the curriculum.

It does, however, look like the kind of thing that could make for a very bad day for incoming Overwatch. He's going to pay close attention for a bit. You don't interrupt a man in the middle of something like this- you wait for him to finish.

(OOC: Not a problem. I'm at work myself anyway, so I'll be tagging when I can.)

[boston_bruiser]

It doesn't take long for Voodoo to notice the bespectacled physicist out of the corner of his eye. He's been in the teams long enough to know when someone's got eyes on him. Call it a sixth sense.

He mutters under his breath. "Great, another civilian."

Nothing personal, Gordon. It's just a thing of his.

He checks the targets one last time to make sure they're properly secured, then walks back to the firing line. He turns his back to the targets and raises his hands.

Three.

Two.

One.

NOW.

In one smooth motion, he spins around, unholsters his pistol, and double-taps each target. He reflexively presses the magazine release, and before the empty magazine even hits the ground, he inserts a new one into the butt. He follows through with another double-tap to each target.

He checks the range timer. 4.73 seconds. Getting there.

He walks up to the trio of targets and takes down the three-by-five index card he attached to the back of each. They're used to mark vital areas - kill shots. In this particular drill, they're approximately where the target's heart would be.

He flips through them, grunting his approval. Four clean holes in each of them. Beers are on someone else tonight.

Well, they would've been.

Fucking Milliways.

"You need something?" He doesn't bother looking up.

[acts_of_gord]

"Watching an expert," Gordon says quietly. "I don't see a lot of that kind of work back home."

There isn't generally enough ammo for anybody in the Resistance to practice that way. Standard target practice, yes, but speed drills and high precision work, not so much. At least here he can barter for ammo with the right people.

[boston_bruiser]

"So what kind of work do you see?" Voodoo asks. He stuffs the index cards in his breast pocket and saunters back to the firing line, reloading his pistol with another six-round magazine. Frankly, he's impressed he didn't outright blow the man off. For a spit-second, he wonders if he should've.

Like we said, it's a thing of his.

He holsters his pistol and raises his hands again, bracing himself for another go.

[acts_of_gord]

Gordon has to think about that for a moment. Eventually he says, "About what you'd expect from people who've been fighting guerrilla actions in low supply conditions for sixteen years on end."

He probably could've phrased that better if he were someone else, but words are not Gordon Freeman's friends even under the best of circumstances. Best to just be accurate and leave it at that.

[boston_bruiser]

Voodoo spins around, unholsters his pistol, and repeats the drill again, then glances at the range timer. 4.6 seconds. Not bad. Not exactly what he wanted, but not bad.

"Sixteen years? What're you fighting? Zombies? Communists? African dictators?"

He's only half-kidding with that last part.

[acts_of_gord]

"More the first than anything else," says Gordon. "Although they're more a by-product than the actual enemy."

Although they haven't been to Africa yet. God only knows what the Combine might've done there, given what he's seen of their handiwork in South America.

[boston_bruiser]

"So who's putting you guys in the hurt locker?" Voodoo asks, holstering his pistol and reaching for a nearby water bottle. He'll wait a bit before drilling with the M4, in part because the targets here are a bit too close for his liking and because he's somewhat curious in what this guy has to say.

"Come to think of it, who're you?"

[g00d_d0ggie]

Don't look now, Gord, but there's a combat droid watching over your shoulder.

[acts_of_gord]

Gordon glances back over his shoulder briefly as he reaches for the next clip for his pistol. "Oh," he says, "hi, D0G. Didn't see you there."

Plus, gunfire is one of the few things on this Earth loud enough to drown out the robot's mechanisms.

[g00d_d0ggie]

Bwrp, says D0G agreeably. How's tricks?

[acts_of_gord]

Gordon smiles a little and nods downrange. "Thought I should get in some practice away from the people," he says. "I think I'm doing fairly well so far."

He's doing better than that, given how tight his groupings are in the center of his targets' torsos, but it's all relative.

"Say, as long as you're here..."

[g00d_d0ggie]

Woop? D0G cants his head to one side.

[acts_of_gord]

"I need to work on hitting moving targets. Think you could throw a few targets for me?'

[g00d_d0ggie]

Bwoop eep! D0G salutes smartly and immediately gravguns a good-sized rock up off the ground. Just say when!

[acts_of_gord]

You know, Gordon was going to go inside and get some clay pigeons from Bar, but that? That'll do just fine.

"Nice thinking," he congratulates the droid. "Okay, on the count of three..."

[i_candozat]

Pavel, it should be said, is not the easiest to miss in his uniform, eye-searingly red as it is.

He waits for a minute, watching Gordon shoot.

It's probably safer that he waits until said physicist stops shooting before he makes himself heard.

[acts_of_gord]

All things considered, yeah. Gordon is pretty accurate with his shots, but he also has very twitchy reflexes at times, and it just wouldn't end well.

He does have to stop and reload eventually, though. That's usually safe.

[i_candozat]

"Vhy are you shooting so many things?" comes the question, lilted in a Russian accent.

"Somezing is wrong. In your vorld."

[acts_of_gord]

"Target practice," says Gordon, rubbing his nose on the back of his arm. "We have a problem with an alien occupation on my Earth, and it's getting worse."

[i_candozat]

"Da, you hawe told me zis," Pavel says with a nod. "Zis Combine...somezing is getting vorse?"

[acts_of_gord]

"We've got a distress signal from Australia," Gordon says. "I don't know if we can trust it, but if it's actual humans, we have to get them somehow. I need to be ready for whatever assault we've got to lead."

[i_candozat]

He raises a brow. "And does ze rest of your avay team not need veapons?" he asks with the barest tiny hint of a smile.

[acts_of_gord]

"They've got their own," says Gordon with a shrug. "This is my personal set."

And he usually manages to bear up under the weight of nearly the entire set.