broadcast 01

[tothefly]

Who: Natasha Romanoff and various guests
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Post-broadcast, abandoned waystation? Action prompt in comments
When: During bugfest 20XX

[On screen, there's a very calm redhead looking thoughtfully at the camera, one brow slightly cocked.]

It's occurred to me that the fleet has about ten times as many firearms as it does medical professionals. It's also been pretty apparent that a lot of our cast members don't know the basics of gun safety and use. If anyone wants to learn, I'll be at the following coordinates.

[The message ends with a bit of text, the location of one of the abandoned waystations in near orbit.]

Comments

[poetontheinside]

[he has a videotape back home. It's a surprise he didn't bring it on his trek to the arctic.]

Hell yeah it's a challenge. [He is already getting into a pod!]

[tothefly]

[It would be a surprise. Ray does not seem like the type to be above waving his ridiculous victories at other peoples' faces, after all.]

Guess we'll have to work out the terms when you get here. Girl needs some sort of incentive to win, after all.

[Come on, Ray, she's waiting.]

[poetontheinside]

[He just grins and flashes her fingerguns before turning off the feed.

He's there shortly afterwards, hops out of the pod with an excess of energy. He spots her and saunters over there, all cockiness and self-satisfaction.]

Alright, lady, bring it on.

[tothefly]

[She's already got two lanes waiting, orange targets painted on the wall at the far end and two blasters prepped. At his strut, she only smirks a little, one hand on her hip.]

You seem pretty confident. If you're that good a shot, then surely you don't need the practice.

[poetontheinside]

Can't let it slip, right? You got all the gear? [He's fishing his glasses out of his pockets and puts them on-- the rims are thick and black, the lenses themselves pretty thick as well. It's astigmatism, okay!!]

[tothefly]

[Why hello, glasses. She does look at them, pointedly, though she doesn't say a word. Honest.]

Everything we need. Lanes, targets, two crates of guns. Everything up to your standards? Feel free to inspect it, if you want. I'll even give you your pick of lanes.

[poetontheinside]

[The look he sends back at her tells her firmly not to mention the glasses. Ignore the glasses. They are not there.

He waves her off, starts picking through the guns to pick something. Unsurprisingly, he comes up with something that looks close to the sidearm he'd be used to, and he jerks his chin at her.]

You ready to be impressed?

[tothefly]

[But they are there, and they're actually kind of adorable. Don't be ashamed, Ray. Not everyone can have perfect vision.

She's got her own sidearm in a holster at her side as she steps up and to his left, ready to watch, hands on her hips.]

You ready to impress me?

[Two can play that game, after all.]

[poetontheinside]

[He just shoots her a grin in reply- born ready, lady.

He pops the safety headphones over his ears, then moves into proper position. With this, he's alright taking proper precautions. He looks, aims, and then fires five times in rapid succession, with all the bullets hitting their mark exactly. On a human, it would have been forehead, neck, heart, crotch and left knee. Then, one more shift, and he fires the sixth round, which lands just a quarter of an inch to the left from the first hole.

He is now so smug that he doesn't even look over to her to see her reaction. He knows that was good.]

[tothefly]

[Not bad. He's a pretty damn good shot, actually, though she suspected he might be. No one with that casual an attitude the rest of the time was less than a dedicated worker when it came to business. Six shots, including a limb shot, which tend to be more difficult.

But then there's that damn smug smile, and of course she can't encourage that. She's had enough target contests with Clint to know just how to handle those, though.]

Not bad.

[Her only words, in a thoroughly unimpressed voice from a thoroughly unimpressed face.]

[poetontheinside]

[In this part of his abilities he's too confident to let even that expression throw him: he grins wider and steps back, making an after you gesture.]

'Not bad'? That was pretty fucking good.

[tothefly]

It was decent.

[High praise coming from her, but hey, two can play this game. It's a game she actually enjoys. Trick shots with Clint, arrows vs. bullets, although it's a little different with blasters. There's something a little less visceral about these.

They are easy to handle, though, and Natasha steps up to the line, body relaxed, limbs loose. She takes up her favorite stance for the range, the one that only the small-caliber stuff usually lets her take; legs braced, body half-turned, free hand at the small of her back.

When she fires, it's five shots in rapid succession like his own: Five shots, forming a perfect cross dead center in the head of the vaguely human-shaped target. The sixth is nearly invisible, buried as it is by her first shot in the center.]

[poetontheinside]

[Ray does jealousy pretty well, even if he wouldn't admit to it. He knows how to get angry and red-faced if he feels someone else's success is bothering him.

This time, he has to admit it: that was amazing. Totally unexpected, despite her posturing, and fucking awesome.

When she turns back to him he's grinning wide, bouncing on his heels.]

You weren't lying, huh?

[tothefly]

[Natasha does allow herself a small smile at his reaction. She's good with a gun. She likes being good with a gun. It's not a part of her life she's ever regretted, though sometimes she's regretted the things she's done with that training.]

You think I'd lie to you? Gonna hurt my feelings, Ray.

[poetontheinside]

You gonna shoot me for it? [He grins and saunters up to her, leans against the wall.]

So where'd you learn to shoot like that?

[tothefly]

Probably not. Not this time, anyway.

[Natasha makes sure the safety is on before slipping the weapon into the holster strapped to her thigh, flashing him an amused look.]

Girl Scouts.

[poetontheinside]

Man, the girls get all the fun, huh?

[tothefly]

That's what the song says, isn't it?

Want to go for best two out of three?

[poetontheinside]

Depends on what you call 'best'. [Because he's so not topping what she just did, no matter how hard he tries.]

[tothefly]

Could define it any way you want, Detective. You're a good shot.

[Yeah, so maybe she'd shown off, just a little. She's got a competitive streak she doesn't get to show all that often. But one "win" doesn't mean she doesn't want to go again.]

[poetontheinside]

Alright. One party calls the aim, the other shoots it. Person who comes closest wins the round.