Chapter 20: Gunnery
The sun had barely begun to peek over the horizon, casting an orange and pink glow across the sky, as Lyra stepped out of the barracks. The air was crisp and cool, carrying with it the faint scent of gunpowder and metal, a testament to the day's activities at the base's firing range. She took a deep breath, her lungs expanding as she prepared herself for the day ahead.
The crisp morning air nipped at her nose as she stepped out of the barracks, her combat gear clinking softly with each step. The micro tie bikini bottom hugged her hips tightly, the utility belt resting low on her pelvic bones, just below the tie of the bikini bottom. The pants that rested low on her hips were reinforced with Kevlar, providing a thin layer of protection that was barely noticeable beneath the small Kevlar vest that concealed her sports bra. Her combat gloves and boots completed the ensemble, making her feel ready for whatever challenges the day might bring.
The AE 50 Dragon pistol holsters were securely fastened to her utility belt, the weight of the weapon a constant reminder of her responsibilities as a member of the Wolfpack team. She took a moment to adjust the holsters, ensuring they were positioned correctly for quick access.
She was greeted by the familiar sight of the base's firing range. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting long shadows across the sand-covered ground. The smell of gunpowder lingered in the air, a testament to the day's previous activities. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the day ahead.
The firing range was a sprawling expanse of sand and concrete, surrounded by tall barriers that served as both a safety measure and a makeshift target range. In the distance, she could see the other members of the Wolfpack team already at work, their silhouettes moving in sync as they practiced their shooting techniques.
As Lyra approached the firing range, she noticed that the attendant was already there, his eyes scanning the area with a practiced efficiency.
She raised her hand in greeting, "Morning." He turned towards her, his gaze flicking down to her exposed midriff before quickly returning to her face. "Morning, ma'am," he replied, tipping his cap.
"You're new here, aren't you?" Lyra nodded, her eyes scanning the area as she took in the sights and sounds of the firing range. "Yes, just stationed here about a week ago," she said, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach. She had been so focused on her training that she hadn't had much time to explore the base.
The attendant nodded, his gaze flicking down to her exposed midriff before quickly returning to her face. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," he said, his voice polite but professional.
"Lyra Ashen," she replied, extending her hand towards him. He took it, his grip firm but brief. "Nice to meet you, Lyra. I'm Grantt."
Lyra smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she shook his hand.
"Nice to meet you too, Grantt." She glanced around the firing range, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of the other soldiers practicing their shooting techniques. The sound of guns firing echoed through the air, a constant reminder of the day's purpose.
Grantt turned to Lyra, his eyes twinkling with a playful light. "So, Lyra Ashen," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. "What's your plan for today? Perhaps a dinner date later?" He winked at her, his tone teasing.
Lyra felt a blush creep up her cheeks at his words, her heart fluttering nervously in her chest. She let out a nervous laugh, her eyes darting away from his gaze. "Oh, I-I'm just here to practice with my AE 50 Dragon pistol," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.
Grantt's eyes widened in recognition, a knowing smile spreading across his face. "Ah, the AE 50 Dragon," he said, his voice laced with admiration. "May I?" he asked, extending his hand towards her. Lyra hesitated for a moment before unholstering the pistol and placing it in his outstretched palm. Grantt's fingers wrapped around the grip, his eyes widening as he examined the weapon. "This is a beauty," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. "Not many soldiers get their hands on an AE 50 Dragon."
He turned the pistol over in his hands, his fingers tracing the smooth lines of the metal. "It's exquisite," he said, his voice filled with awe. "The craftsmanship is unparalleled. It's not just a weapon; it's a work of art." Grantt's eyes gleamed with admiration as he held the AE 50 Dragon pistol in his hands. The black and white pistol with a suppressor attached was a deadly combination, designed for precision and stealth. The laser sight attached to it was a testament to Lyra's recon role, allowing her to hit targets with pinpoint accuracy even in low-light conditions. "This pistol is deadly," he said, his voice filled with respect. "It's got an 8-round capacity of .50 bullets, and that suppressor makes it nearly silent." He handed the pistol back to Lyra, his eyes meeting hers. "You're in good hands with this beauty." Grantt handed the pistol back to Lyra, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Say, Ashen, which unit are you stationed to? Not many get their hands on an AE 50 Dragon." He leaned in slightly, his voice laced with intrigue.
Lyra hesitated for a moment before replying in a soft whisper, "I'm stationed to the Wolfpack Special Force Team." She watched as Grantt's eyes widened in surprise and awe.
"Wolfpack?" he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're one of Captain James'?" He looked her up and down, a newfound respect in his gaze. "No wonder they assigned you this pistol. The Wolfpack only takes the best." He paused for a moment before adding, "I've heard stories about them. They're something else."
Lyra nodded, a small smile playing on her lips.
"Yes, I'm part of Captain James' team," she confirmed, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach. She had always been proud of her role in the Wolfpack, but there was something about Grantt's reaction that made her feel a sense of pride.
She looked down at her AE 50 Dragon pistol, a small smile playing on her lips.
"Here you go, Ashen," Grantt said, handing her several rounds of .50 bullets. "Your booth is number 6. It's all set up for you."
Lyra took the bullets from him, her fingers brushing against his. She felt a spark at the touch, but she quickly dismissed it. She was here to work, not to get distracted by a handsome face.
"Thank you, Mr. Grantt," she said, her voice steady. "I'll get started then."
She walked towards booth number 6, her combat boots echoing on the concrete floor. She could feel Grantt's eyes on her, but she didn't look back. She had a job to do, and she was determined to do it well.
As she stepped into the booth, she took a deep breath.
The air was filled with the scent of gunpowder and metal, a familiar smell that both excited and calmed her. She put on some rounds to the magazines, her fingers deftly loading the bullets into the AE 50 Dragon pistol. The weight of the weapon felt comforting in her hands, a reminder of the power she held.
She then slipped on the noise reduction headset, the soft padding molding to her ears as she adjusted it. The world around her muted, the sounds of the firing range reduced to a distant hum. She took a deep breath, her eyes narrowing as she focused on the target ahead.
The target was a simple silhouette, a human form outlined in black against the white backdrop. It was a familiar sight, one she had seen countless times before. But today, it felt different. Today, she was determined to hit it. She raised the AE 50 Dragon pistol, her hands steady as she aimed at the target. She could feel the weight of the weapon, the cool metal against her fingers. She took a deep breath, her eyes locked onto the target.
She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She had always been a good shot, but today, she wanted to be better.
She wanted to prove to herself and to Captain James that she was worthy of the AE 50 Dragon pistol. She raised the pistol, her hands steady, and squeezed the trigger.
The recoil was unlike anything she had ever experienced. The pistol kicked back with such force that it threw her off balance, her arm jerking upwards as the bullet flew wild, missing the target completely. She stumbled back, surprise etched on her face, as she struggled to maintain her grip on the weapon.
"Shit," she muttered under her breath, her heart pounding in her chest. She had missed her first shot, and it was all because of the recoil. She had underestimated the power of the AE 50 Dragon pistol, and now she was paying the price. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the next shot.
The AE 50 Dragon pistol was a formidable weapon, and she had to respect its power.
She squeezed the trigger, and the AE 50 Dragon pistol roared in her hands, but the recoil sent her reeling again. She stumbled back, her heart pounding in her chest as she realized she had used all the eight bullets in the magazines. Only two had hit the target. She lowered the pistol, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she stared at the target, her pride wounded.
"Fuck," she whispered, her hands trembling slightly. She had expected to do better, especially with a weapon as advanced as the AE 50 Dragon pistol. But the recoil had been a beast she hadn't anticipated. She could feel a trickle of sweat run down her spine, her body aching from the tension. She leaned against the booth wall, her eyes still on the target, her mind racing.
She knew she couldn't keep going like this. She needed to find a way to control the recoil, to master the pistol. She couldn't afford to make such rookie mistakes, not if she wanted to stay on Captain James' team.
She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. She couldn't lose her temper, not now. She needed to think, to figure out a way to improve. She looked down at the pistol in her hand, her fingers tracing the smooth lines of the metal. She admired the craftsmanship, the deadly beauty of the weapon. She knew she could handle it, she just needed to find the right technique.
Loading another magazine into the AE 50 Dragon pistol, she raised it, her grip firm and her stance solid. She squeezed the trigger, the pistol bucking in her hands, but this time she was ready. She anticipated the recoil, her arms absorbing the shock, her breath steady, her eyes focused on the target. Yet, despite her preparation, the bullet still strayed off course, the force of the weapon proving too much for her to control. Frustration burned within her, her muscles tensing as she fought to maintain her composure. She couldn't let the pistol master her; she had to master it.
Just as she was about to load another magazine, she caught sight of Officer Aldere striding into booth number 9, three down from hers. He was tall, his dark hair cropped short, his steely gray eyes scanning the area with a sharp intensity.
She watched him as he stepped into the booth, his movements calm and collected. He loaded the pistol, his fingers deftly threading the bullets into the magazine. Then, without fanfare, he raised the pistol and began to shoot.
His first bullet hit the target dead center, the silhouette's black center exploding into a cloud of red. His next shot was slightly higher, but still within the target's torso. The third and fourth shots hit the target's head, one after the other, the bullseye exploding in a cascade of color. Lyra watched, her eyes wide, her breath catching in her throat. She had never seen anything like it.
Aldere was in his element, his body moving in a fluid dance with the weapon.
Lyra watched him, her eyes wide with admiration and a touch of envy. She had always been a good shot, but Aldere's precision was something else entirely. She could see why he was the team's most lethal marksman.
Steeling herself, Lyra took a deep breath and walked towards Aldere's booth. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her palms sweating slightly as she approached him. She cleared her throat, trying to sound confident. "Excuse me, Officer Aldere," she said, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach.
Aldere turned to face her, his steely gray eyes meeting hers. He raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Yes?" he asked, his voice calm and collected.
"I was wondering if you could help me with something," Lyra said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Aldere raised an eyebrow, his steely gray eyes meeting hers. "Of course," he replied, his voice calm and collected. She led him to her booth, her heart pounding in her chest as she showed him her AE 50 Dragon pistol. "I'm having a bit of trouble with the recoil," she admitted, her cheeks flushing slightly. "I was hoping you could give me some pointers." Lyra said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Aldere took the pistol from her, his fingers brushing against hers. He examined it briefly before loading a magazine with practiced ease. He raised the pistol, his stance steady and confident. Lyra watched in awe as he fired eight shots in quick succession, each bullet hitting the target's head dead center.
He lowered the pistol, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he returned to his booth, leaving Lyra staring at the target in disbelief. She had never seen anyone shoot like that before. It was as if the pistol was an extension of his body, an instrument he played with deadly precision.
She took a deep breath, steeling herself for another attempt. She couldn't let Aldere's skill intimidate her. She had to focus on her own improvement. She loaded another magazine into the AE 50 Dragon pistol, her hands steady as she raised it and aimed at the target.
The recoil was immediate and brutal, sending her stumbling back as the bullet flew wide of its mark. She caught herself against the booth wall, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she stared at the target, her pride wounded.
"Damn it," she muttered under her breath, her frustration evident in her voice. She had seen Aldere's precision, had witnessed his mastery of the weapon, and it only served to highlight her own inadequacy. She couldn't let this go on. She had to find a way to control the recoil, to master the pistol.
More rounds flew from her AE 50 Dragon pistol, each one missing its mark by a considerable margin. The sound of each shot echoed through the firing range, a harsh reminder of her struggle. She felt exhausted by the result, her arms aching from the constant recoil. She put down the gun to her holster and the headset down, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she stared at the target, her pride wounded.
She noticed that Aldere also finished his session and left the firing range, his tall figure striding away with a confident gait. She watched him go, her mind racing with thoughts of how to improve her own shooting skills.
With a determined look on her face, she rushed out of the booth and followed Aldere as he walked away from the firing range.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she caught up with him, her breath coming in short gasps. "Officer Aldere," she called out, her voice steady despite her racing thoughts. He turned to face her, his steely gray eyes meeting hers.
"How did you manage to shoot so accurately with the AE 50 Dragon?" Lyra asked, her voice filled with genuine curiosity and a hint of frustration. "I'm struggling with the recoil," she admitted, her cheeks flushing slightly. "I was hoping you could give me some pointers." Lyra's voice was steady, but there was a hint of desperation in her eyes.
Aldere paused, his gaze flicking from her face to the pistol holstered at her side. "What is it for me to tell you how?" he asked, his voice calm and measured.
Lyra's heart sank at the question, but she pressed on, her voice pleading. "Please, Officer Aldere. I just want to improve.
I know you're the best shot in our team," Lyra called out, her voice echoing slightly in the open space. Aldere paused for a moment, then continued walking, his pace steady. Lyra hurried to keep up, her combat boots echoing on the concrete. "Please, Officer Aldere," she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just need some advice." Aldere kept walking, his pace steady and unyielding. Lyra hurried to keep up, her breath coming in short gasps. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her palms sweating slightly as she struggled to keep up with him. She knew she couldn't give up, not now. She needed his help, and she was determined to get it.
As they walked, Lyra's mind raced with thoughts of how to convince Aldere to help her. She knew she had to be persistent, but she also had to respect his boundaries. She couldn't force him to help her, but she couldn't give up either. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to do.
Suddenly, it hit her. She knew what she had to do.
"Officer Aldere," she called out, her voice steady despite the pounding of her heart. "I'll do anything you ask, if you'll just teach me how to control this pistol." Aldere stopped in his tracks, his steely gray eyes narrowing as he turned to face her.
Lyra gasped, taken aback by the sudden halt, her heart pounding in her chest like a drum. "Anything?" he echoed, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. She nodded, her eyes wide with determination. "Yes, anything," she repeated, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach. "You're sure about that, Bunny?" he asked, his voice laced with a challenge. She met his gaze head-on, her chin lifted in defiance. "I'm sure," she replied, her voice filled with conviction. Aldere studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he nodded, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Alright then," he said, his voice calm and collected.
Before Lyra could react, he reached out and grabbed her arms with a firm grip, his fingers digging into her flesh. She gasped at the sudden contact, surprise and a jolt of something else coursing through her. He pulled her towards him, his grip unyielding as he began to walk towards the Wolfpack barracks. "Let's go," he said, his voice a low command that brooked no argument.
Lyra stumbled after him, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to keep up with his long strides. She could feel the heat of his fingers on her arms, the firm pressure of his grip sending a shiver down her spine. She knew she should protest, should demand an explanation, but she found herself unable to speak, her mind racing with thoughts of what was to come.
They arrived at the Wolfpack barracks, the familiar sight of the building doing little to calm her nerves. Aldere led her through the corridors, his grip on her arm unyielding, until they reached his partition room. He pushed open the door, the sound echoing through the quiet hallway, and ushered her inside.
The room was small, the walls lined with shelves filled with books and maps. A narrow bed stood against one wall, a desk and chair against another. A large window looked out onto the training yard, where soldiers were practicing various drills. Aldere released her arm, his fingers trailing down to her wrist before letting go. She rubbed the spot where his fingers had been, her heart still pounding in her chest.
She stood there, in front of him, her eyes meeting his as he sat down on the bed, his back against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him. He looked up at her, his steely gray eyes unreadable. "So, Bunny," he said, his voice calm and collected.
"You want to learn to wield that AE 50 Dragon pistol?" His eyes gleamed with a mischievous light as he unbuckled his belt, his hands moving with practiced ease. "Well, I think I can help you with that." Lyra's eyes widened in surprise and a hint of alarm as she watched him unbuckle his belt. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Aldere's smirk widened as he stood up and stepped closer to her. "I'm going to teach you how to handle a pistol," he said, his voice low and husky. "And I think you'll find that this is the best way to learn." Before Lyra could react, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards him, his grip firm and unyielding. She stumbled forward, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to keep her balance.