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| Losing your edge..... | Started by: Sledge-Hammer on Dec 06, '07 12:21 |
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Hammer took a long look down the straight line. The man-shaped target was attached to the replaceable hanger, which was in turn attached to a mechanised assembly line that had taken the target back 33 yards. It was set by the Range master. Unfortunately the Range master had also insisted that Hammer wear the goggles and ear mufflers. Which was a damn shame. You couldn't appreciate the beauty of gunfire without hearing it right up close. He eyed up the target carefully, with one eye closed. He hadn't stepped up into his booth yet. He was waiting. Beside him a pregnant woman was firing off round after round at her own target. Hammer decided to wait. He didn't like being beside such amateurs. The woman fired off 8 rounds in total and there was a whirring sound as the assembly line slowly brought her target back amidst the smoke and gunfire of the others on the range today. Hammer liked the great outdoors. He preferred blowing away a sturdy oak to the less than satisfactory feeling of shooting holes into paper targets. The woman's target came all the way back and Hammer guffawed loudly. Okay so two headshots. Not bad for a woman he thought with a sly grin. But there was one clean miss amidst the remainder of shots that were scattered around the lower torso. A CLEAN MISS! Hammer didn't even clean miss back in grade school. The woman turned a sharp eye on him as he laughed. He stared her down and spoke first. "What? Hey it's not my fault you can't hit a target you paid for." The woman continued to eye him up before speaking slowly in an unmistakeable Southern Drawl "Sho ain't my fault the target wusn't set dead in the head fo all eight shots mista. But ee will be. I just started shooting yesteday." The woman might have offended Sledge's delicate San Francisco sensibilities. Had he not been Sledge-Hammer and had NO delicate sensibilities of any description "Lemme give you a piece of advice from a pro honey..." Hammer flipped a coin casually and caught it right in front of her eyes with a knowing smile. "Put down the gun, get a refund on that ten dollars you paid for the hour, take it home and buy your husband an hour down here on the range instead." The woman's expression hardened, if that were possible. "My husband left me yesteday. Walked right out th'door at 3 O'clock. Come half I was down here, y'all get me? Down here to practice to KILL that sonofabitch!" A woman scorned. Hmm. With one last smile, Hammer turned back to his target quickly and without a further word or warning, he drew down. As the .44 flew from his holster it seemed to be already spitting heavy calibre 10.9mm bullets as it levelled out in-line with the target. 8 Booming shots, fierce as hell. BANG! BOOM! BANG! BOOM! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! The target slowly drew back. As it did so, Hammer looked towards the head. No doubt, if that target was a real person, they wouldn't have much of a head left....He smiled tightly.But as it drew closer, his smile started to slip.It looked like....No....But....It couldn't be....It couldn't be and it was all at the same time....He counted 7 holes in the head area....That must mean... His eyes frantically searched the target for another hole. He'd even take one in the arm at this point. But one in the arm wasn't there. His worst fear had come true. A clean miss... Jesus. The woman startled to chuckle and cough at the same time. Well these southerners did like to smoke pipes after all. But right now the sound of her laughter was the most evil thing in the world "GODDAM YOU!" Hammer pointed directly at the woman like a Preacher pointing at a harlot. Quick as a flash, he slapped down 100 dollars on the floor. "There's not a person on this range right now that can out-shoot me. And I got one hundred dollars right there says so!" In the back of his mind however, a small seed of fear had taken root and was sprouting. Was he finally loosing his edge after all these long hard years? |
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| Hammer took a long look around. His Southern companion did not seem impressed with his show of force. But what the hell. He was a forceful guy. He took a look around the range. There were only 6 other people here right now. The two on the end were tall drink of water types with farmboy haircuts. An older man with a moustache two booths down looked ex military. A high school drop-out and a fat guy in a checked shirt appeared to complete this line-up. If ever there was a time for a tall dar stranger with an aim like William Tell to breeze in through the door, now was probably it. Knowing Hammer's luck they'd have a handy hundred just to back it up as well. He lessened the grip on his Magnum as his smile grew wider. | |
| Reply by: Sledge-Hammer at Dec 09, '07 22:20 | |
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Moments later, a man appeared in the doorway, chuckling to himself. Just over six feet tall, thin but muscular, the man was dwarfed by the mammoth humans he kept at his side. TylerDurden himself, the legendary Godfather of Los Angeles. Tyler took one last draw from his cigar, then flicked it at the Hammer's feet. Almost as soon has he could hold out his hand, the Range master threw him a pistol. He caught it, and twirled it around his finger. A grin lit up the Godfather's face as he began to speak. "I'll give you that much--when you said there wasn't a person on this range that could beat you, you were right. But that is only because I wasn't on this range at that time." Tyler pulled the pistol into firing position, appearing to aim directly at the head of the woman. He shot before she could move, and an audible gasp rose up from the gallery. The shot grazed right by the woman. Several blonde hairs were severed, and fell onto her shoulder. The bullet connected with the target, as if drawn by an invisible rope. Tyler blew the smoke from the gun, and smiled. The woman, still shaking, reeled in the target. The bullet had gone right through the target's forehead. "Still think you can outshoot me?" The room was silent. |
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| Reply by: TylerDurden at Dec 09, '07 22:35 | |
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Hammer eyed the single bullet hole in the target suspiciously. Then he turned that maniacal grin back to the stranger. "I'm pretty sure I recognise you." Slowly, deliberately, Hammer removed a box of matches from an inside pocket of his sports jacket. The range was in utter silence in the wake of the stranger's entrance. A few people were watching open-mouthed. The space between the two men has become the stage, with both characters at opposite ends. In the deepening silence, the single match Hammer struck was heard by all as it flamed up, disappearing in an instance as Hammer blew it out just as quickly. Placing the used match between his teeth, he bit quickly. The black ash end came off in his mouth and he spat it gently away off to the side. The matchstick in his mouth, the pure and untouched strip of thin wood, remained. He shifted it from side to side along his thin grin. At least the hundred wasn't going to waste. It was show-time. "Let's hope this doesn't go to overtime....It's a best of eight around these parts..." |
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| Reply by: Sledge-Hammer at Dec 09, '07 22:50 | |
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"Best of eight, huh?" Tyler looked at the target with amusement. "Well, I guess I had better get started, then." Tyler moved to the next target over as the crowd looked on with anticipation. He cracked his neck, shrugged his shoulders forward, raised his weapon, and opened fire on the paper. The first four shots found their mark. Four headshots. On the fifth shot, however, Tyler hiccuped as he pulled the trigger. The gun pulled up, and the shot barely grazed the top of the paper. Noticeably shaken, Tyler re-loaded his clip, and took aim for his last three shots. One in the right side of the stomach, one through the neck, and one opposite the heart. The bodyguards looked stunned. It seemed they had never seen Tyler shoot so badly. He turned to his competitor, the cocky smile gone. "Well, it looks like overtime won't be a problem. I couldn't have hit water if I shot off of a boat. Go ahead stranger, the money is yours for the taking. Just don't choke." The trademark smile returned. All the pressure rested on Hammer now. |
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| Reply by: TylerDurden at Dec 10, '07 00:06 | |
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Hammer let the matchstick continue to swirl to either side of a thin smile that hadn't moved a muscle. If he was amused at the less-than-perfect performance of his rival, he didn't show it. His eyes did not leave the target that Tyler had just shot up for several seconds. When they did, they turned back to Tyler. But they said nothing. They just looked. On the word "choke" he turned immediately back to his own target without a word and stood, feet shoulders-width apart and hands by his side with the fingers curling in and out, seemingly in an involuntary fashion. Without warning he slowly let his hand disappear inside his sports jacket to once again draw the Magnum that was holstered under his left armpit. As he removed the gun as gracefully as a performance of Swan Lake, he raised it up and level with the target and shifted to a two-handed grip. He breathed in and out, in and out. Common beliefs associated with hundreds of years of firearms use were rarely wrong. Regulating your breathing was important. The first shoot boomed like the opening Salvo of a particularly large firework on the Chinese New Year. BOOM BANG BANG BOOM BOOM BANG BOOM BANG Hammer looked on with polite interest. As he had fired there was less movement in his arms than a steel girder. But he hadn't got that satisfactory feeling. Something hadn't hit home like it should have. As the target drew back, his problems were immediately apparent. Six headshots. Great. But two shots had clearly strayed, one grazing the lower left hip of the paper target and another clipping the shoulder. Tyler had had one graze, but it grazed the head. He'd also hit the torso straight on, where Hammer well knew that law enforcement were taught to shoot in order to drop a suspect. Head shots were for Mafia members, the military and the particularly dedicated. Hmm..This was going to be interesting. What sort of a points system would they use here? Hammer had a feeling that the woman beside him would hardly give him the win, which was saying something consider Tyler more or less blew a large part of her haircut off. The others...he had no idea. All they needed right now was for someone else to breeze in and hit eight head-shots. This was turning into quite a weird day. Maybe he could convince the Range-Master to let them have an open invitational...With a little gold trophy and everything...He ALWAYS got carried away. "I hadn't planned on an elimination round my Californian friend....Now I'm confused." |
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| Reply by: Sledge-Hammer at Dec 10, '07 13:19 | |
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| Hammer eyed up the other people on the range warily. So far not one of them had said a word but he didn\'t trust that guy in the moustache. Men with facial hair should never be trusted. They clearly have something to hide. Unless it was that designer stubble that had become popular at the end of the twenties...Tyler hadn\'t moved and neither had anyone. The silence had went on for.....well....forever really. This was like one of those moments that was stuck in time, except that Hammer was painfully aware that he had an appointment with his physician in two hours. He stood where he was and waited, one eye on his fellow rang-goers and one eye on the door. | |
| Reply by: Sledge-Hammer at Dec 12, '07 12:35 | |
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Tyler stood there, his face convulsed. He appeared to almost be having a seizure. As soon as someone ran to the phone and started to dial 911, he released. \"ACHOOO!\" \"Sorry about that folks. Allergies kick in this time of year.\" Tyler\'s confidence was back. This stranger had put in his best effort, and still only managed to tie Tyler--even with luck on the stranger\'s side! This was going to be easy... \"Well, friend,\" Tyler said. \"Your house, your rules. How do you say we do this?\" |
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| Reply by: TylerDurden at Dec 12, '07 12:57 | |
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Hammer didn\'t let his perma-grin slip despite his surprise. What a gentleman this chap truly was! However now they did have a dilemma. Never in his right mind would Hammer consider conceding a loss on a performance that included 6 headshots. Even with two badly grazed shots. He\'d stooped so low as to claim infection in his left elbow in order to walk away with the 1924 San Francisco PD Marksmanship Award after a tie-breaker. But if there was one thing he appreciated it was sportsmanship. As he saw it, they could either shoot again, wait for someone else to show or call it quits and drown their sorrows after two performances on a par with a soup-kitchen Christmas Panto. \"Well my bold-suited friend, I have no objections to shooting again. Another round of 8. Or we could settle our differences amicably in a local ale-house that I know of, not far from here. You can regale me of tales from your shrouded past and the violence that forged your very soul. I\'ll do the same except I\'ll also throw in the story of the time I arm-wrestled that large brown bear after a hundred dollar bet not too dissimilar to this one... Say, that\'s a nasty sneeze by the way.\" |
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| Reply by: Sledge-Hammer at Dec 12, '07 13:07 | |
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Tyler saw the fear in the other man's eyes. He heard the fear in his voice. He wouldn't have tried to settle the bet unless he was afraid of losing. And still, Tyler knew that fear made men do great things. Still, he knew deep down that this competition was his to lose. After all, he had been shooting a gun since he could barely stand up. Many men train their sons to be athletes, or business moguls. Papa Durden had trained his son to shoot straighter than anyone else alive, and he wasn't going to let a simply case of hay fever get in his way. Ignoring his apprehension, he smiled at the man. "Well, I shot first last time. Your turn, I presume. Best of luck to you, mate. You're going to need it." Tyler stroked his gun with confidence. There was no doubt in his mind he would walk away from this duel richer, both in money and respect. |
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| Reply by: TylerDurden at Dec 12, '07 16:51 | |
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Hammer grinned. A tight, wolfish grin. He'd smiled so much today, his teeth were getting sore. He deliberately turned his back on the target. Then he raised one foot of the floor....Then in one graceful movement, he spun and drew his Magnumn. It was a graceful orgy of violence. Eight shots emerged from the barrel roaring their way to the target. All 8 struck home right in the head of the target. All dead centre. The target now boasted a hole the size of Nebraska where the head was. As if to confirm the damage, it suddently slid to the ground. Hammer didn't just tell that bear story to any villian who crossed his path. He only told it in very special cases. Therefore turning down an offer to hear it... Well.. That was like a red rag to a bull. As the range-master brought back the riddled target with a frown, Hammer blew a gentle wisp of smoke away from the barrel of his gun. "Beer anyone?" |
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| Reply by: Sledge-Hammer at Dec 18, '07 19:21 | |
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