-Disclaimer: I don't own Trigun. Wish I did though.
(The disclaimer story cont.') (Previously) Why officer whatever do you mean? What alleged fan fic do you speak of? *Grabs Rem and runs for nearest bomb shelter*
Rem: Let me down!
Magnet-Rose: Shhhh. The angry lawyers are coming!
*KLONG* rubber bar-bell rolls away
Magnet-Rose: ow......
Rem: See ya, wouldn't want to be ya! *Runs into a forest*
Chapter 2: Guns
Year: January 4, 2190
Sara's death made me angry. To the point of being cold. I hated the Martians with more hate than you would think possible.
After Luna Station had been repaired I entered the Army. It was fairly new considering the circumstances, my basic training was far from easy, but I didn't give damn. I was out for revenge, and blood. Martian blood.
The first week wasn't so bad. Mostly just orientation to the gear and stuff. As well as getting our equipment fitted.
I was assigned to Barracks Number 2, Five other girls were there. At first they tried to talk to me. Tried to start conversation, but through out, I ignored every one of their comments and questions. After awhile they just left me alone.
I didn't care about them. They were nothing. All that mattered was that the Martian's paid for their evils.
After the week of orientation and then a month of training for Mars terrain was over, we were handed our first lesson with a gun.
This was all new to me, I had never so much as seen a gun in my life, much less touched one, and the first thing they did was shove a gun in my hands and said, "Fire this, at that target."
The objective target being a silhouette of a man. The gun was uncomfortable, it almost felt like holding something that was going to bite. Shaking my head, I pulled my safety goggles over my eyes and tried to fire the gun, as in tried. The recoil sent me back crashing into my instructor, and landing us both on the floor.
The others laughed. But I said nothing as I stood up and tried again, much with the same result except there was no instructor to cushion my fall.
Laughter again.
The instructor took the gun from me and thew it to the floor, "What do you think this is Savrem!? A game!"
"No, Sir." I said my voice chilling even to me.
"Oh really? And then what do you call that pathetic display just now?"
"I've never fired a gun before, Sir."
"Really. Well, my grandmother of ninety years fired better than you on her first try! That is the most disgusting display of anything I have ever seen! Now pick up the gun and fire it right!"
"Yes, Sir." I said through gritted teeth, and complied. To an extent. This time I tried to position my legs in a different position. This helped. A little. In stead of flying back like the first two times I only stumbled back.
"Better. But not good enough! Again!"
Biting back foul curses, I tried again. And again. And again. Over and over till I could barely lift my arms. Every one was well gone by the time Instructor let me leave.
I skipped dinner completely and fell asleep on my cot without even changing clothes.
The next week was hell.
I spent almost every waking minute in the shooting range trying everything I could think of.
And Instructor only got louder. With every failure. Louder. With every success. Louder.
And each night I barely ate a thing before falling asleep.
I was worn so thin by the end of that week I thought I was going to snap. The only thing that kept me going was a Holo-pic I had of Sara and me sitting in the Hydroponics Lab, laughing about something so stupid.
The end of the week was break day. But something told me to go to the shooting range instead of the Center. The Center being a large area with lots of shops. Something equivalent to a cross between a fair and a mall.
I entered the shooting range. It was dark. The next fifteen minutes I spent turning on the lights, finding the gun rack and rubber bullet stock. I'd never actually loaded a gun before, Instructor doing for me. Probably thought I would break it. But figuring out how to load the damn thing didn't take long. The bullet were an oddity, they released a red ink upon impact.
As I stepped up to the shooting position behind a waist high board, I suddenly felt... right. The gun no longer felt as if it were an object biting into my hands as it had the first day, but instead it felt as if part of my arm completely. I breathed in amazed at these new feelings. And then I glanced up at the target. What I saw wasn't a plastic cutout silhouette of a man but a man in Martian fatigues, it, the object of my hate let loose my anger and I grasped it. I aimed at the target, nothing out of place in my stance, shoulders squared and gun unwavering.
I fired.
A red splotch appeared on the target's forehead.
I sneered at the target daring it. And fired off the last five shots. All landing in the same place. . Still not satisfied I reloaded and continued to work throughout the day learning how to use the Moving Target option and perfecting my skills. Never one did I see a plastic cutout, only Martians.
Instructor found me the next morning curled up in a ball in the corner of the shooting range.
Review Pleez! Thankee! Rewrote this chapter a little, due to Lady Shadowcat's correction. Thanks Lady.
(The disclaimer story cont.') (Previously) Why officer whatever do you mean? What alleged fan fic do you speak of? *Grabs Rem and runs for nearest bomb shelter*
Rem: Let me down!
Magnet-Rose: Shhhh. The angry lawyers are coming!
*KLONG* rubber bar-bell rolls away
Magnet-Rose: ow......
Rem: See ya, wouldn't want to be ya! *Runs into a forest*
Chapter 2: Guns
Year: January 4, 2190
Sara's death made me angry. To the point of being cold. I hated the Martians with more hate than you would think possible.
After Luna Station had been repaired I entered the Army. It was fairly new considering the circumstances, my basic training was far from easy, but I didn't give damn. I was out for revenge, and blood. Martian blood.
The first week wasn't so bad. Mostly just orientation to the gear and stuff. As well as getting our equipment fitted.
I was assigned to Barracks Number 2, Five other girls were there. At first they tried to talk to me. Tried to start conversation, but through out, I ignored every one of their comments and questions. After awhile they just left me alone.
I didn't care about them. They were nothing. All that mattered was that the Martian's paid for their evils.
After the week of orientation and then a month of training for Mars terrain was over, we were handed our first lesson with a gun.
This was all new to me, I had never so much as seen a gun in my life, much less touched one, and the first thing they did was shove a gun in my hands and said, "Fire this, at that target."
The objective target being a silhouette of a man. The gun was uncomfortable, it almost felt like holding something that was going to bite. Shaking my head, I pulled my safety goggles over my eyes and tried to fire the gun, as in tried. The recoil sent me back crashing into my instructor, and landing us both on the floor.
The others laughed. But I said nothing as I stood up and tried again, much with the same result except there was no instructor to cushion my fall.
Laughter again.
The instructor took the gun from me and thew it to the floor, "What do you think this is Savrem!? A game!"
"No, Sir." I said my voice chilling even to me.
"Oh really? And then what do you call that pathetic display just now?"
"I've never fired a gun before, Sir."
"Really. Well, my grandmother of ninety years fired better than you on her first try! That is the most disgusting display of anything I have ever seen! Now pick up the gun and fire it right!"
"Yes, Sir." I said through gritted teeth, and complied. To an extent. This time I tried to position my legs in a different position. This helped. A little. In stead of flying back like the first two times I only stumbled back.
"Better. But not good enough! Again!"
Biting back foul curses, I tried again. And again. And again. Over and over till I could barely lift my arms. Every one was well gone by the time Instructor let me leave.
I skipped dinner completely and fell asleep on my cot without even changing clothes.
The next week was hell.
I spent almost every waking minute in the shooting range trying everything I could think of.
And Instructor only got louder. With every failure. Louder. With every success. Louder.
And each night I barely ate a thing before falling asleep.
I was worn so thin by the end of that week I thought I was going to snap. The only thing that kept me going was a Holo-pic I had of Sara and me sitting in the Hydroponics Lab, laughing about something so stupid.
The end of the week was break day. But something told me to go to the shooting range instead of the Center. The Center being a large area with lots of shops. Something equivalent to a cross between a fair and a mall.
I entered the shooting range. It was dark. The next fifteen minutes I spent turning on the lights, finding the gun rack and rubber bullet stock. I'd never actually loaded a gun before, Instructor doing for me. Probably thought I would break it. But figuring out how to load the damn thing didn't take long. The bullet were an oddity, they released a red ink upon impact.
As I stepped up to the shooting position behind a waist high board, I suddenly felt... right. The gun no longer felt as if it were an object biting into my hands as it had the first day, but instead it felt as if part of my arm completely. I breathed in amazed at these new feelings. And then I glanced up at the target. What I saw wasn't a plastic cutout silhouette of a man but a man in Martian fatigues, it, the object of my hate let loose my anger and I grasped it. I aimed at the target, nothing out of place in my stance, shoulders squared and gun unwavering.
I fired.
A red splotch appeared on the target's forehead.
I sneered at the target daring it. And fired off the last five shots. All landing in the same place. . Still not satisfied I reloaded and continued to work throughout the day learning how to use the Moving Target option and perfecting my skills. Never one did I see a plastic cutout, only Martians.
Instructor found me the next morning curled up in a ball in the corner of the shooting range.
Review Pleez! Thankee! Rewrote this chapter a little, due to Lady Shadowcat's correction. Thanks Lady.