Doing it right...

[Sgt. Howard]

"ALRIGHT!" Greg bellowed to regain their attention, "We have talked about the action, the trigger, the breech, the muzzle, the sights, the stock, the magazine, the foregrip... what have we NOT mentioned?"
Crickets.
"They never catch this one, do they?" Greg nudged Al.
"Of course not- the concept is counter-productive in the average mind... GOOD PEOPLE! WHAT DO YOU SUPPOSE THIS LITTLE DEVICE ON THE BACK OF THE BOLT DOES?"
The weapon in question was a 98-K Mauser in original military trim- the object to which Al was pointing was flipped into the 'on' position where it blocked all view of the sights.
"SAFETY!" hollered back a small handful.
"And why did we not mention it until now?"
Crickets... again... Greg took it from there.
"Because MOST safeties are NOT trustworthy- THIS particular device will do what it is supposed to do- render the weapon incapable of shooting. We have several of the Mausers to go around, as well as several Mosin-Nagants and a few Enfield SMLEs- none of these interchange ammo, so make sure you know what ammo you are dealing with- if it is Russian, it will have a star with a date under it- if it is Kraut, it will have the 'dirty bird', the eagle with the swastika- if it is limey, it will be covered in rust (Whack!) hey, easy Al... I'm walking wounded here,"
"You'll get MORE wounding you keep up THAT bloody commentary... twit... English rifles will be marked with the British broad arrow- these will take .303 British, the Mausers take 8mm Mauser and the Soviet pieces take 7.62x54 Rimmed- rather tricky to load, if you don't stack them right you can lock up your weapon. All of these bolt-action pieces can be loaded from a stripper clip... as such (he held up one for his Enfield) and the technique is fairly universal... open the bolt, place the stripper clip in the appropriate slot, use one's thumb to shove the rounds into the magazine, remove the stripper clip and close the bolt- now I mentioned the ammo of the Nagant- you will notice it does not stack symmetrically. The bullets all point to one side... THAT side goes up, the OTHER side goes in! Also, it takes a heavy thumb to fight the clip on Ivan's boomstick-do not be surprised if you find it easier to load one round at a time. ALL OF THESE RIFLES ARE SET FOR ONE HUNDRED YARDS... more or less... so your familiarization targets are at this range... everybody come on down and pick up a rifle- we will hand you the appropriate ammunition with your rifle. You will NOT load until at your station and instructed to do so- are we clear?"
An assortment of "yes", "Sure", "I guess"....
"OH NOW!!! I AM TEACHING YOU HOW TO PROPERLY DEFEND YOUR HOME AND LOVED ONES!!! EITHER YOUR HEART IS FULLY IN IT OR GO HOME AND WAIT FOR THE BASTARDS TO TAKE YOU!!!
ARE WE CLEAR?"
"YES SIR!!" came the response.
"... much better,"

[jwhouk]

"Yeah, Al isn't as informal as Cornelius ever was," Billens explained.

"Has anyone started considering what to do about the wedding?" Sarah asked.

"There's been a few snags, from what I understand."

[Sgt. Howard]

Everybody who knew him called him 'Crispy'... too many years of meth had left him fried. He never had a firearm, always something disposable and sharp. He had shanked many using nothing more that a shard of glass with a piece of bicycle inner tube wrapped around one end- he then disposed of the glass and the tube in separate dumpsters. Beer bottles could carve up a face very nicely... then you simply wipe the prints off and throw it in the river. Little critters love blood. He found a bent kitchen knife in his scrounging's that morning, so that was what he would work with today. He sharpened it on a stone by the river and figured where he could ditch it as he approached the Auto repair shop where an easy $500 kill was waiting. Just too simple- the kid had already gone, the other mechanic had the day off- the old man was there by himself.
He went to enter by the back door. He was careful- nobody saw him. Conversely, nobody saw the apotropaic Sphinx drop out of the sky, grab him and haul him aloft. He tried to slash at the creature's clawed paws- in a flash, the hand holding the knife was amputated, falling back to the ground. He screamed in pain and terror, cursed fluently and oathed vengeance from the grave if necessary. Still, the creature flew... higher and higher, further West, to Medicine Lake.
There, at altitude, she turned him to face her and stated,
"You're the twelfth one today," and let him fall.

From 4,000 feet, hitting water is like hitting concrete.

[jwhouk]

"There is NO FREAKIN WAY this place is going to be ready to host a wedding in a month," Amanda said as she watched the construction crew trying to erect the false ceiling to what was supposed to be the reception hall.

"They're at least trying," Monica said as they watched the workmen trying to hang the supports from the existing support beams. "This place had been empty for so long, it's amazing they managed to get the lofts together."

"Yeah, I understand that," Amanda sighed. They had been invited by the developer to watch the progress of the rehearsal hall's construction and renovation. What they'd seen was less than promising: the floors were still bare cement; the wall framings were incomplete; and the false ceiling was proving harder to assemble than anticipated, due to the original layout of the mill…

CRASH! One of the overhead supports for the ceiling slipped from its mounts and fell onto the floor below. It was about the third time the two of them had seen the ceiling mounts fail.

"I think we need to talk to Phix back at the Library about contingency plans."

[jwhouk]

There's been a few problems, he had been told.

People had been trying to claim the bounties - the "kids" were calling it "Smash 4 Stackz" or some silly thing - but none of them had even come close.

What was becoming more and more disturbing is the other reports he'd heard. One of his lieutenants had witnessed an attempt on the father. A woman had intercepted him, kept him from advancing, and then... he froze.

Literally.

So far, not a single bounty had been claimed. And that mofo cop was still out there - along with that arrogant "rich boy" who'd offed Ricky and Antonio.

Antonio had been the damn glue that held this whole organization together. His death had been a hard one to take.

He still didn't quite know how they'd taken things down so quickly. He'd tried to find out, but he was getting nothing from his sources on the other side of the river.

He looked out the windows and sighed.

Maybe they should just concentrate on attacking the wedding. Maybe find a way to get those Westboro idiots involved.

[Sgt. Howard]

After about 800 rounds of ammunition, there started to appear consistent groups, not random patterns. Greg in particular seemed to have the knack of squeezing confidence and skill into the various novices. Some, like Stan, had already mastered the one hundred yard range and were ready to take on something more challenging. Others, such as Tina, simply could not equate the training to the action. Buck had quite a bit of difficulty at first, almost to the point of Greg throwing in the towel on him, but eventually he got it so good that 3/4 inch groups at 100 yards were the norm for him. His brother Rowdy seemed a natural at it, making one jagged hole at one point. Of course, in native form the weapons would have to be modified to the size of the beasts. Greg had this in the back of his mind- having now seen the upper torso of these fellows in feral, the idea that they should be offered something custom and consummate to their mass... there was great appeal there. Ever the tinkerer, he started planning even as he instructed.
Al was walking the line, keeping basic safety on everyone's mind and showing the discipline of the weapon, the control of the weapon... in short, making sure that they COULD trust each other in a bad spot. A little admonishment here, a bit of encouragement there... the slow, patient practice that was a proven formula to turn rank civilians into marksmen worthy of note.
Tina, however enthusiastic she had been at the start, was beginning to loose interest. Al sat beside her and asked, "What is it? What has you so flustered?"
Tina looked at the target- "I cannot harm anyone,"
"No....well, you CAN make them keep their head down, you know... and if you make them keep their head down... they can't shoot at anyone... or you can get good enough to simply scare the kidneys out of them... a bullet hole here or there where they think themselves safe... fear can be an effective weapon, you see,"
She looked into Al's eyes for the longest time, trying to digest his words.
"They will not hesitate to kill anyone of us, will they?"
"Absolutely not,"
Tina looked at the target again- she jammed another five rounds into the old Russian rifle without a hitch, bolted one in and struck the black. The next round struck the edge of the first hole. The third round split the difference. The last two enlarged the hole slightly.
"MY LORD!!! YOU HAD IT IN YOU ALL THE TIME!"
"You don't understand- if I harm anyone physically, time stops unless I am killed. I have to be beyond expert with this thing,"

[Sgt. Howard]

A few more sessions and they broke it up- everyone had developed enough skill to be a sincere problem to an assailant. The Alexanders offered rides hither and yon, but the range was not too far from the main house and walking was a reasonable option. Bud and Kevin stayed behind at the range, talking about the situation... and about their situation. Justin and Shelly walked arm-in-arm, rather subdued. Alan and Jin crowded on Cindy (Who displayed remarkable skill with a late war Mauser), Al straddled Daisy while Greg rode Rowdy.
"You've been on a horse before, haven't you?" Daisy asked Al.
"Yes, but I've never had an intelligent conversation with one while riding... at least not while sober. I realize that this is your... normal, I guess I should call it... but in truth, I feel like a child who has just seen proof that the world is round,"
Daisy giggled- "Yes, I suppose it can be overwhelming,"
"Understatement of the decade, that is... and yet, here I sit on the threshold of discovery..."
"Actually, you're sitting on my ass,"
"Semantics... I no sooner find this world of wonder, and at the same time your son and Shelly's intended are threatened by forces unknown because they did what needed to be done... hardly charitable this is, and yet this is what we face,"
"We can always hold out here and be safe,"
"Balderdash! For evil to flourish, it is only necessary that good men stand by and do nothing,"
"... who said that?"
"Somebody much wiser than I... no, Daisy, this has to be dealt with, and has to be dealt with soon. If, by teaching basic rifle marksmanship, we can hurt them that much further, then even my death will not significantly reduce my impact upon them. It is my hope that before all is said and done, they learn that I am not to be trifled with, ESPECIALLY regarding those who I care for..."
Had he looked behind himself, he might have noticed that Daisy's tail was swinging in a full circle as she looked into his eyes.

[FreeFlier]

One is not amused. /noselick/

. . . Not good . . . she's gone negative. Including her tongue.

Two is not amused either . . . though the notion of ignorant scavengers trying to hunt apex predators has a certain grim amusement value . . .

Hey hey! It's FreeFlier! Welcome, welcome! And you too, Wolf-who-watches!

*Bends down and scritches behind Wolf-who-watches' ears*

/sniffsniff/ . . . /noselick/ One did not expect to find you here. /pink tongue wets her nose again/

Likewise.

(That's better . . . shadow wolf is scary . . . never sure what she'll do when she's that angry.)


Nobody has sore shoulders? Between the energy levels, lack of experience and metal buttplates, I would expect sore shoulders.

--FreeFlier

[Sgt. Howard]

Nobody has sore shoulders? Between the energy levels, lack of experience and metal buttplates, I would expect sore shoulders.

--FreeFlier

Military turnbolts tend to be rather heavy, compatible to the recoil tendencies of the respective cartridge... the main reason why I do not 'sporterize' a good military rifle. Besides, a heavy gun 'sits' on a target and makes it easier to hit. Even handled poorly, none of these rifles have excessive recoil

[jwhouk]

Of course, you didn't have to teach Monica anything. Her g'pa taught her well.

---

What you didn't see...

As Al is going over the field safety lecture with the group, one set of eyes is rolling skyward.

While he drones on, she slips on her safety glasses and ear protection, wandering over to the makeshift shooting range. She deliberately goes through a procedure, one that none of the rest of her friends would recognize - except maybe Justin, of course - then steps up to the line in front of the range area.

She brings the revolver up, and - using her left hand - promptly unloads the six rounds in her grandpa's old gun.

She steps back, reverses process, making sure first that all of the chambers are empty, then removes her earmuffs and safety glasses.

There is dead silence.

Al and Greg tilt their heads, looking downrange at the target.

There is a smiley face on the head of the target sheet.

"I gotta catch up with Amanda over at the A-Mill Lofts," Monica says - just as she poits away.

[TazManiac]

Stan was bemused by the ongoing preparations to set up Tina in a new location and decided they both needed a change of pace, and as he had been exploring the grounds a lot recently, he had a good idea where the better secluded spots were.

Getting her attention he began to explain how well developed his woodcraft was...

[Just Old Al]

As the sound of the POIT! dies away and Monica disappears, Al points to the target with the incogruous smile on its face.

"And THAT ladies and gentlemen is EXACTLY what I want you all to become if you are not already. Comfortable, knowledgeable and unafraid - so IF you should need it the lessons you learn here today will come to you unbidden and instinctively.

We are in a situation where your lives - more the lives of your comrades may depend on your actions. I do not mean to depress you by any stretch of the imagination, but I do want to impress you with the importance of what you are hearing. We old soldiers can't turn you into seasoned combat troops over a cup of tea, but we can give you the skills to become so."

With this, Greg remarked quietly to Al, "Great segue....."

In the same voice and sounding a bit nettled, "Not like she left me much of a choice. But lemons and lemonade, eh?"

With that, he turned back to the assemblage, lifted his pampered .303 Lee-Enfield, and proclaimed, "This is a .303 Lee-Enfield riifle. It is not a GUN...it is a WEAPON and will be treated as such..."

And the lecture continued.

[Sgt. Howard]

By the third session with the old turnbolts, everybody had enough skill and familiarity with the subject that tactics were now being taught. Even Justin thought this fascinating, as the military take on the subject was somewhat different from the police method. Suppressive fire, fire and advance, pin and flank, the use of snipers, use of cover, tactical retreat and many other subjects were covered. Disarming an opponent, hand-to-hand, the use of knives, field expedient explosives, booby-traps- both how to set and how to spot... in a month's time, the refugees became a remarkable fighting force... nothing on par with a REAL military, mind you, but perfectly capable of making the criminal gangs hurt badly using non-paranormal means.
Combined with the abilities natively possessed by some, it was a rather formidable operation.
At the same time, life went on at the manor with an accelerated logistics mode. Breakfast became a ritualized chaos of several cuisines, not the least of which was the vegetarian diet of the host family... pickled carrots seemed to be a favorite breakfast food among the Centaurs. The staff and guests were served anything from a light continental to what Greg called a 'Plowman's Meal' that often required two plates. More often that not, Jin would be in the kitchen with Rosalita, churning out food at a rapid rate.
It was rather like an extended family reunion that had no end.
News from the homefront bode well- the body count at Brian's Garage was mounting with Brian being none the wiser... there was that particularly nasty disembowelment that made the headlines, but Brian was listed as a witness, nothing more. After that, attempts on his life all but stopped.
It was also noted that violent crime in the Twin Cities dropped off the radar. Even the scarier parts of town became rather subdued. The boys at the 31st Precinct were waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it didn't come.
Meanwhile, Justin's experience with LaMar Jefferson still captivated the liberal press, while the conservative stations reported how;
1) Russell Williams was killed, execution style, by LaMar
2) LaMar had EMPTIED his pistol at the two cops, striking Officer Robert Keeshan, before Justin fired one shot
3) this was all about drug money
The pundits kicked this back and forth, the public were fed one inconsistency after another, the federal level of authority called for more gun control, Al Sharpton stirred the pot as loudly as he could then the Westboro Baptists declared that this was 'God's punishment for the two (Justin and Shelly) living in sin,' and went on to more self-righteous accusations.

And the Reception Hall was nowhere NEAR close to operational due to a picketing by a local electrician's union that was being disruptive to the progress-

[lake_wrangler]

Looks like the criminals fell victim to one of the classic blunders! The most famous of which is "never get involved in a land war in Asia," but only slightly less well-known is this: "Never go in against a paranormal when COFFEE is on the line!"

Seeing how pissed off the teenagers were, I could see it all ending with some wacky hijinks, an obligatory chase scene wherein a hallway with multiple doors serve as backdrop to people going in one door and coming out another, multiple times, in assorted groups splitting and reforming along the way, and ending with the villain tied to a chair, with Devyn approaching, and pulling off a mask...

"Why, it was Old Mr. Jenkins* all along!"

"And I would have gotten away with it, if it wasn't for you meddling kids!"


* I don't know... it's the first name that popped in my head, as the type of names that would be used in that show...

[lake_wrangler]

Hey hey! It's FreeFlier! Welcome, welcome! And you too, Wolf-who-watches!

*Bends down and scritches behind Wolf-who-watches' ears*

/sniffsniff/ . . . /noselick/ One did not expect to find you here. /pink tongue wets her nose again/

Likewise.

--FreeFlier

Well, I had to go somewhere, to feed my internet addiction... And the CRFH!!! forums were dying... As a matter of fact, they seem to be non-existant, right now...

Meanwhile, you'll find a healthy assortment of people here, much like CRFH!!! was, though they don't seem to be into roleplaying, here (not that I was, but I'm merely mentioning the fact...) But the fanart section sure is full of talent!

And the puns! Oh, the puns! I've heard it said that puns were the lowest form of humor... well, then...
"I've got friends in low places..."

(Just remember to pay up, when punning... The pun jar has had to grow, over the years, to a pun vault, and is sometimes thought to be pan-dimensional, in order to hold everything that's been deposited into it over the years...)

[Sgt. Howard]

(Just remember to pay up, when punning... The pun jar has had to grow, over the years, to a pun vault, and is sometimes thought to be pan-dimensional, in order to hold everything that's been deposited into it over the years...)

But be careful- some objects in there have been neglected long enough to be sentient... and many things require a BATF&E tax tag for 'High Explosives'

[Sgt. Howard]

"Is it my Imagination... or has Mom been spending more time fussing with her tail and mane?" Rowdy asked at lunch.
Buck and Kathy looked over to their hostess... and indeed, there was a shine there that was not normally the case.
"Hmmm," Buck intoned, "having a full house agrees with her,"
"You two are thickwits!" Cindy muttered, "Watch her tail,"
Sure enough, in the absence of flies, Daisy's tail would flash and swirl in a careless fashion while she gestured with her hands in speach with others, eyes fluttering...
"She's... she's HIGHTAILING!" exclaimed Rowdy, almost too loudly.
"But.... for WHO?" Buck questioned.
Cindy rolled her eyes, "Well, I don't POSSIBLY suppose you might have noticed the occasional inflection of a remarkably ... foreign... dialect escaping her lips from time to time? Or how she seems to have completely forgone coffee in favor of... tea?"- she said this with a creditable British dialect.
Buck and Kathy looked over at Al, who seemed completely lost in thought and totally unaware of the display. Rowdy caught it on the second downbeat.
"The Limey?!? She's strutting over the Limey?!? Well, THAT'S a thorn in the hoof! He's completely unaware... what is it with you humans, anyway?"
"Considering that this is my husband," Kathy responded with a slight edge, " I'm not sure I know,"
"Dearest," Buck interjected, "Had I approached you in native form to begin with, would you even have considered my offer?"
She looked into those eyes and snickered- "Buck, explain to me please how I could possibly dance with a horse,"
"See? I came to you in human because I figured that would get your initial attention. And it is true in reverse- most centaurs prefer their own species... and for obvious reasons. Now, what might or might not catch Al's attention, there's no way of knowing- he might not even know himself. But I do know this much- until he looks at Mother in human form, he will never see her as an eligible female,"
"But... that is really difficult to maintain, isn't it? At least, for any length of time?" Kathy asked.
"It is... and for you my Dear, it is worth it... but I don't think Mother has thought about that..."

[Sgt. Howard]

Nudge had wandered into the area where Shelly's Father was plying his trade, keeping an eye out for trouble. In human form, she really didn't register as a threatening figure... just an average looking girl at 5' 5" in skirt and sweater. She deliberatly looked as if she were waiting for someone, looking at her watch on occasion and acting anxiouse so as to not arouse suspition when she was grabbed from behind with a knife at her throat and pulled into the ally.
"Do as I tell you," came the rough voice as she tried to struggle... or, I should say, ACTED as if she were struggling.
As soon as the assaliant thought he had privacy, he spun her around and started fumbling with her skirt while still holding the knife to her throat.
Nudge dropped all pretences and went full feral- the idiot suddenly was facing a nine foot creature that was half goat. She smashed his hand against the wall, causing him to drop the knife- noticing that his pants were allready undone in anticipation of rape, she wasted a little bit of magic she had learned specific to the situation. He yelped, squealed and ran, holding his crotch...
"THAT knot will take some effort to untie," she muttered to herself...

[Dave]

... she wasted a little bit of magic she had learned specific to the situation. He yelped, squealed and ran, holding his crotch...
"THAT knot will take some effort to untie," she muttered to herself...

[DinkyInky]

He yelped, squealed and ran, holding his crotch...
"THAT knot will take some effort to untie," she muttered to herself...

*holds hand up to mouth and laughs*
Mwahahahahahahaaaaa!