02. most love like hunters

[worthy]

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shouta, august. rng knows me. also thank god this is the first plurk i saw.

[teamleader]

( it's another wrong-man-dies scenario. )

[enforce]

[ It takes roughly 60 rounds of major power factor ammo to super-heat a handgun to the point where anything metal on the thing is too hot to touch. At 100 rounds, the FP10 oil starts to smoke. Double that is enough to spike the gun to over 400 degrees Fahrenheit, at which a barrel's clamps will start to break loose.

Shouta should have that math memorized, the round to degree ratio. He should be conscious, if not careful, of what that could do to him.

BANGBANGBANGbangclickclickclick...

He isn't.

The basement is his today again, empty shells falling like summer rain at his feet. ]

[teamleader]

( The door clicks, locked down and locked in.

Souji doesn't follow much of the rules. Being told to stay away makes him want to go closer, put his hand between the cage bars and let the lions have a lick of his fingers. Guns and lions, dolls and murderers - the difference depends on what they do, if you reach out to touch them without fear in your eyes.

Mikami fears that Shouta is more of a lion and a doll, everyone does. Souji is glad if he is, but that's not something he's allowed to say.

The smell of smoke is almost comforting, but not by much. )

That's a bit of an occupational hazard.

( He's got his temper, but Souji's got his calm The basement is empty because when an immovable object meets an unstoppable force, it usually ends in bullets and carnage. )

[enforce]

[ Souji's voice is just enough to cut above the roar of gunfire as Shouta empties the remainder of his .50 clip. It's not a quiet conclusion; the last rounds to connect to the cardboard saw the whole thing into messy halves, debris and shavings joining a heap of others on the floor. A finale if there ever was one.

But even among the echoes like thunder, Souji's presence is just enough to keep the edge from consuming his eyes when Shouta looks at him over his shoulder.

He finally lowers his arms, smoke wafting freely from the Desert Eagles. There it was, his "That's enough." ]

Not one they tell you about in the rule books. What do you want?

[teamleader]

You don't even read them.

( What does he want? He doesn't even know.

He's come down hear at the sound of a familiar gun, bullets clinking on the solid floor, and whispers - whispers in the dark, in hidden corners, at the back rooms, where the members entertain each other with remnants of a normal life, like co-workers getting to know each other and everything around them, gossiping about life and what's it like, and how the first brigade captain seems to be holing himself up in the shooting range, and can anyone tell them why?

Maybe Souji's here to ask what happened himself. Or maybe not. Maybe he's just here as a reminder - for something.

What does he want? )

Are you staying in?

[enforce]

[ That was the truth of the matter, sure, but Shouta can guarantee there is no Section Three, Chapter Seventeen, Article Twenty-Five that states:

The Head Captain reserves all right to seize, clear, and otherwise commandeer the training grounds for personal use which may or may not indicate the use of all shooting targets, including paper, cardboard, steel, and bullseye.

Also he might destroy his guns.

Though if it did, that might have made his transition from the basement to the top level a little more seamless. He could simply tell people to look it up and mind their own business. ]

No. [ The word in itself is like a projectile. His shift masks the unhinging of his tension centers all across his arms, and his guns would take another ten minutes to cool off enough to discharge the clips and clean. ] This is just a warm up.