002 ✪ audio + action

[redactions]

Who: Jim Barnes
Broadcast: Fleetwide audio.
Action: On the moon.
When: Sept. 20th.

Good morning. This is Captain James Barnes. By now we've assessed the damage to the ships — seems like it only slowed us down some, and whoever the enemy was they don't seem to have followed us. That's not why I'm here.

[ a half-beat of pause, then, ]

We can't guarantee there'll always be shields or weapons aboard our ships at any given time. That doesn't mean we can't work out a system to make sure we're covering for each other in a fight. If we can form groups of two or three ships, at least one with weapons, and coordinate a few flying formations, we stand a much better chance.

As for communications, if they're taken offline like that again we are going to need a solution. We used manual signalling in my War; I'm open to options that don't have us scrambling blind during a crisis like that.

[ a beat ]

We got lucky, this time. We might not be again.

Barnes out.




→ shooting range

[ You know. This is simple. The pistols take getting used to, but it's a matter of practice. Assembly. Disassembly. Ready, aim, fire. One end of the shooting range is devoted entirely to Jim trying out all the variants he can get his hands on. They are laid on the table in front of him neatly. ]

[ All the shots hit the centre ring of the target, if not, damned closed. He's not concentrating too hard or scowling, just seems perfectly placid, and steady. When he feels eyes on him, ]

Sorry, did you want [ gesturing to the row of pistols ] one a'these?

→ some seedy bar

[ This alcohol is completely algae-free and that might be the entire reason he's even bothering with it. This place doesn't look quite as ripe for sudden violence either; but there's still murmuring in the background and a card game that looks like it might be heating up. ]

[ He's sitting alone, in the corner, nursing a glass. Another one sits beside him, completely untouched. It's always been for Steve. ]

Comments

OKAY I'm crashing in here. Still want post bar brawl, but can't get this scene out of my head.

[touchofrogue]

[AT THE RANGE.

Rogue is on her way to the stables when activity at the shooting range catches at the corner of her peripheral vision. For all the say about curiosity and cats, Rogue has never cared much for proverbs. She peaks her head in to find Jim, standing with grace and calmly shooting bulls-eyes.]

[She shakes her head to his offer of the guns.] Nah. [Her mouth tugs up at the edges.] I'd clap, but I'd be afraid for the size of your head. Wanna make sure ya can fit back through the door.

wow you didn't even bring me flowers

[redactions]

[ Oh, Rogue. He has a special smile for her now, soft, and pleased. she's earned it. ]

Somehow I think I'll be fine. How're y'doin', sweetheart?

do crashers bring flowers? that wasn't in the handbook!

[touchofrogue]

[She... is not sure what she's done to earn such a smile, actually, but she gives him a pleased one in return, as brief as such flickering expression tends to be with her.]

Alright. [Just a few major life changes, nothing major. She moves on in to inspect the work he's done.] What've you been up to?

which handbook did u even read

[redactions]

Just promised the owner I'd clean these [ gesturing to the pistols ] and test 'em out for him. Been doing that all day.

NOT THE RIGHT ONE, APPARENTLY /panics

[touchofrogue]

Sounds like fun.

[Except, not at all.

She approaches the bench and glances over the pistols.]

...though guess there's somethin' ta be said about puttin' things to rights with your hands.

[It was why she'd liked working at the Item Shop, after all.]

cackles

[redactions]

Yeah.

[ He radiates contentment like a small but distant star. ]

You wanna try?

/sobs -- also, did you see? Kurt intro'd. PREPARE YOURSELF

[touchofrogue]

Cleanin' or shootin'?

[There is a tease lurking in response to whatever he answers, and he might see it in the amused tilt of her eyes.]

I'LL NEVER BE READY

[redactions]

[ A-ha, she's got him in a trap. Jim smiles. ]

Shootin'. Though I reckon a rootin' tootin cowgirl like yourself might not need the practice.

ME EITHER ;; he's so angry ;;

[touchofrogue]

[A snort, and the trap falls to pieces.]

'Rootin' tootin'? Did ya really just say that?

[She shifts to give the brace of pistols her fuller attention.]

Haven't seen guns like these in a long time.

/offers tissues

[redactions]

No one will believe you.

[ He winks at her, and then offers her one, grip first. ]

These are real old; somethin' like flintlock. Sturdy, but reliable. Slowest bullets I've seen, though.

/greedily takes

[touchofrogue]

[She takes it with a gloved hand and inspects it.

Rogue doesn't normally like guns. In fact, she was about to just tell him that. But this gun was so old... it was really kind of cool, just because of how it was made.]

Must be pretty big ones too - this gun's heavy.

[A quick laugh.] Might be better off just usin' the butt as a bludgeon.

[She does know how to hold it, though, fingers safely away from the trigger, a certain familiarity in the way it fits in her hand. She doesn't like guns, not anymore. But she does know how to use them.]

[redactions]

[ he smiles, quietly noting the way she handles the weapon. ]

It'd pack a mean blow, too. You wanna try a few shots?

[touchofrogue]

Mmm, not much of a gun fan. [Anymore.

All the same, she lifts up the one she's holding in the direction of the targets, carefully siting down the barrel before lowering it back down.]

Seems a shame not ta have at least one go, though. [Quick smile.] Let someone else test it out for ya.

[redactions]

Be my guest. I'd say a little friendly contest but [ he winks at her. ] it would be cheating. Nobody's beaten me.

[touchofrogue]

[A snort.]

Ya go an' say somethin' like that as though it doesn't mean I'm gonna tell ya ta pick up a gun an' pick your target.

[Rogue doesn't like losing, but she likes being dismissed even less. Losing she can deal with. She has no claim at being the best at what she does. Just good enough to do what's necessary.

So a playful dramatic pause and a tilt of her lips later:] Go on, pick your gun an' your target.

[redactions]

That was my evil plan all along.

[ Okay, no, but he can't resist the teasing. She draws it out of him as easily as she commands his smile or his laughter. ]

This one, and target's over there, last but one down the lane.

[touchofrogue]

[Rogue gives him a 'bring it on' smirk and then laughs.]

I'd try an' twirl it like a cool cowboy, but I'm scared it'd fall on my foot an' break my toe.

[Heavy gun is... well, not that heavy, but certainly more what she's been used to. She moves along to where he's indicated.]

Same target, takin' turns?

[Or was that another target for her down the way?]

[redactions]

Yes.

[ He stands a little distance away, curious and excited as to how she shoots. ]

[touchofrogue]

[Rogue eyes him.] Guessin' ya want me ta go first.

[Seeing as you're all... over there and all.

...well, she might as well enjoy this while she can. It might be the last time she got to fire a gun or use any kind of weapon without the security augment in her head. She wasn't looking forward to that change.

Rogue turns to site her target and her posture shifts subtly, going more steady as behooves a standing shot. She raises the gun, pointing the direction with her feet and squeezes the trigger gently. The retort sways her back slightly, but not one shot's gone but that she smoothly takes another, and another, until all six cartridges are spent.

It's a fair showing, overall. Her target is certainly dead, all shots hitting in the trunk, one close to the bulls-eye, most surrounding it. The strength of her shooting seems to be the ease with which she fires multiple shots that wind up in a similar area. It'd be easy for him to see how she improved with each shot, getting a better sense of the gun, its weight, the size and speed of the bullet and what needed to be done to hit what she was shooting.]

[redactions]

Ladies do generally go first.

[ Not in everyone's experience and he thinks not in hers, certainly, but he can't help being a bit cheeky. It's Rogue, she'll push back with equal playfulness. ]

[ She's practiced with a gun, but not enough to hide the signs of tension. This isn't her preferred weapon. Firearms aren't intuitive, no matter how much Jim might feel they are. ]

Good shots.

[ Not perfect, but she didn't need to be. This'd slow him down at the least: shots to the chest. ]

[touchofrogue]

[...Jim, why are you measuring Rogue's skill in terms of whether or not she'd be able to kill you? D8

She playfully blows the smoke from the barrel and bows out, leaving plenty of space for him to step up with the range.]

Thanks. Ya know what they say - 'beauty before age.' [She gave him an impish look.] You know - generally.

[Yeah, pushing back with playfulness.]

[redactions]

[ Because there's honesty in a fight. It's a simple, raw thing: kill or be killed, and he took to it in the War. Better than he ever wants to admit. ]

Oh, ha ha. Fossil one next, please.

[ He makes an exaggeratedly offended face, and then steps up to the lane, waits for her to be at a safe distance before he squeezes off six shots. He was born to handle a gun, often felt like. No fear, no distraction, complete focus. ]

[ All hit the bullseye. Show off. ]

[touchofrogue]

[Rogue whistled through her teeth. She's seen a lot of things, but that was still impressive.

And she's seen a lot of things.]

Not bad, for a fossil.

[Grin. Because. You DID ask, Jim. And far be it from Rogue to encourage a swelled head.]

[redactions]

Y'still wanna keep going?

[ You know. Since you will lose and all. ]

[touchofrogue]

[...oh, bring it.

Casually, Rogue opens up the chamber and empties it.]

Pass over the bullets. Let's go again.

[Don't you hand her a challenge like that, you know she won't back down from it. Bring it.]