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

[deshabille]

Of course not.

[She'd rather not accidentally shoot someone. That's one reason she prefers her own power to any sort of weapon: she has complete control over it. She's not about to accidentally punch somebody.]

[Still, this is something she feels strongly about. If there are going to be weapons about anyway, she has to know how to use them. (She thinks Cassandra would want her to.)]

[Squaring off against the target, Mal does as she's told: stabilizes, feet wide, leaning in. Slow, unnecessary breath, safety off, finger on the trigger, and she shoots, the recoil only barely fazing her.]

[It doesn't go as wide as she thought it might, on the first try. She can see it's hit the target, towards the outside, but still. She glances at Natasha for confirmation.]

[tothefly]

[Weapons directly under your own control are always better, but Natasha believes strongly in being prepared. If Mal is learning from her, she'll learn that, too.]

[She watches as Mal prepares, breathing like she should, and the first shot isn't a bad one. She nods approval, briefly; something rarely given outright.]

Use the notch at the end of the barrel as a sight. Directly above your target. Once you've gotten the hang of it, you won't need them, but for now they're there for a reason.

[deshabille]

[Approval feels good, especially from Natasha; it's warm in her bones, and she smiles, but not too wide, because she knows how Natasha feels about smugness, too.]

Like training wheels. [Something she hadn't known about a few months ago.]

[She tries again, using the sight. This time, it's a better shot.]

[tothefly]

Just like training wheels.

[Mal's been a fast study; not just with their lessons, but with Natasha, too. It's a little surprising, but not a bad thing. Good, in fact, to have someone who actually pays attention.

The shot is better, and that gets Mal another nod.]

Better. Relax your shoulders, don't try and fight the gun. Control it.

[deshabille]

[The truth is, for all of her bluster, Mal is tailor-made to take orders. Her life was meant to take quite a specific form, as do the lives of most predators, led by sleep-wake-kill-eat impulses. When she changed her food supply, she changed her life and the pattern of her life; she removed her own natural guidance.]

[So it only makes sense that she would gravitate towards people who are capable of learning her quickly and understanding her comprehensively, who will teach her new things, who will have her back and rein her in when she goes too far. Commanders: she loves her commanders. She is a natural second.]

[Her shoulders relax at Natasha's instruction; she lowers her eyes, lifts them again. Don't fight it, control it. A lesson applicable to many areas of her life, really.]

[She lifts the gun again and shoots. Again, the shot is better.]

[tothefly]

[Good with orders is good. Not obedient, not really; Mal questions just a little too much to be considered only obedient. But questions are good; questions are how one thinks, learns to evaluate a situation. Soon she'll be able to do that without thinking, too, the way their lessons are progressing.]

[She doesn't really question Natasha anymore, though, not for silly things, anyway. She only moves, and trusts. It's a trust that Natasha has come to appreciate. A trust that, maybe, is slowly being returned. Like every one of Mal's shots, a little closer to the center of the target.]

Breathe in, then breathe out as you squeeze the trigger. Don't pull it.

[deshabille]

[Don't pull, squeeze. It's a matter of subtlety, Mal thinks, something she has never been good at. Natasha is such a contrast to her in this way, all subtlety in every gesture, every expression, every word. It's something Mal admires about her, the ability to be covertly dangerous. It's something that makes her wonder, too, what made Natasha this way, something that brings up a thousand questions she is burningly curious to ask.]

[She doesn't, though. Just does as she's told. In, out, squeeze the trigger, the picture of calm.]

[Which dissipates the second she sees that the shot's hit dead center. She lets out a whoop, taking her finger off the trigger and lowering the gun a little - still careful with it, still safe, but giving Natasha a wide, triumphant grin.]

[tothefly]

[Every bit of who Natasha is, is control. Subtlety is just her way of expressing that control. Nuance, hints, suggestions of motion and thought. Showing more is showing weakness. Mal has seen glimpses, more glimpses than most, and sometimes Natasha has seen the curiosity in her eyes...but she doesn't ask.

That's more than one reason why Natasha lets her stay.

Another is the joy she finds in learning something new, mastering a skill. Natasha can allow herself a little bit of pride in that, the faintest hint of a smile on her face, approval in her eyes.]

Now do it again.

[deshabille]

[That faint smile is more than enough for Mal. It warms her, makes her feel ready and confident. The order is a safe thing, too, resonating in her bones, and she straightens up, turning back towards the target.]

[When she shoots again, the first one doesn't quite hit center. The one after that does, though, and the one after. Now that she's got the hang of it, she's able to replicate her motions smoothly, and her enhanced eyesight is a major asset.]

[tothefly]

[It's good. Mal is memorizing the feel of aim, where the target is, where her gun should be. Natasha looks at the shots, the positioning, and feels something warm and satisfied.]

Try to hit the top of the target. Top center. Just at the edge.

[deshabille]

[This is an interesting challenge, and Mal sees its relevance immediately. She's reminded of Jade, whose imprecision is worse even than her own, who was so disappointed when that young soldier ran headfirst into her and broke his skull on her hide. Sometimes lethality is a much lower priority than immobilization.]

[She adjusts minutely, shifting her aim to the top center, just at the edge. Her first shot is good, but not as good as it could be; she frowns sharply and refocuses. The second shot is deliberate and clips the center of the top of the target precisely.]

[tothefly]

[Good. She grasps the ramifications. The importance of aim, and, after a solid month and change of hard work, the importance of not settling. Natasha won't accept settling, coasting, getting comfortable, or any variation thereof. Mal understands that, or is starting to. The fact, if not the reasoning.

It's a good first shot. It's a better second. She lets Mal get the hang of it, then calls out another sharp command.]

Right side.

[After the second shot, regardless of her aim:]

Top.

[She may have an idea of where this is going.]