JULY 9, 2014.
Post by Ville Le'Valiér on Dec 20, 2013 9:01:20 GMT -5
THE HOLY CITY
HEILIGE ARMEE
SHOOTING RANGE
(pre New York)
"Where are you bastards hiding?" Ville cursed, looking down the length of her pistol. The Starcream Mark II was pointed toward a set of targets so far as a hundred yards down range.
It was a respectable distance for a pistol, but not for the Mark II. The heavy sidearm in service of the Heilige Armee had the staying power of a small rifle and its Gintou-core bullets had the explosive hunger of small grenades.
It was by no means a spirit weapon, but it served as the perfect fusion between Quincy skills and the involvement of modern technology. Some of the order's knights were capable of beautiful gunplay, Ville, on the the other hand, had always focused on more traditional means, such as sword fighting.
However.
When it came to blowing up things in order to retrieve a therapeutical effect, the raw power of a gun was more so effective than the whispering steel of her thin rapier. Wolkenstahl had other qualities. She didn't desire silence. Not now.
Channeling her aggression into the roaring pistol, Ville pulled the trigger. The weapon was set to semi-automatic, resulting in one explosion of light at the weapon's muzzle.
The bullet launched by the internal explosion hit the head of a target figure in less than a second. It impacted and sank inside... followed by an explosion that tore the head of the silver-skinned bullet-sink. Nothing remained.
It was a satisfying display of violence, even though the puppet returned to its original state after a few seconds. The densified Reishi that made up for this target was able to regenerate, given the bullets were the only thing one used to fire at them. If shot at with something as skilled as a Heilig Pfeil, these constructs would stand no hope of ever returning to their original state.
In a matter of minutes, she spread the rest of her magazine over the width of the entire range, targetting the alloted set of dummies at her disposal. Apparently, the silver-haired knight had a lot of steam to blow.
With the tip of her weapon turned toward the floor, she took her time to analyze the impacts. A couple of shots to the chest, a couple of heads. She'd blown the figures apart without discrimination or favoured target areas. Indeed.
This was just about feeling better.
The Richters had made her hunt for traitors all over the world. It wasn't that she disliked serving them -- it was her purpose -- but the last few hints had been nothing but ruses. From Australia to China, from China to Europe. From Europe to Canada... She'd spent more time within a plane than any sane person should.
With the expression of a lionness, she pulled the weapon's sledge back manually upon the deed of loading a new magazine. she wanted to guide the first new bullet into the gun with her very own hand. Extending her gun-bearing arm toward the reformed targets once again, anewed roaring of fire filled the smooth areal.
She wasn't done by a long shot, even though, the table infront of her carried a respectable pile of used magazines... there was still a pile of unnused clips.
It would be a waste to hand them back to the quarter master, still filled.
HEILIGE ARMEE
SHOOTING RANGE
(pre New York)
"Where are you bastards hiding?" Ville cursed, looking down the length of her pistol. The Starcream Mark II was pointed toward a set of targets so far as a hundred yards down range.
It was a respectable distance for a pistol, but not for the Mark II. The heavy sidearm in service of the Heilige Armee had the staying power of a small rifle and its Gintou-core bullets had the explosive hunger of small grenades.
It was by no means a spirit weapon, but it served as the perfect fusion between Quincy skills and the involvement of modern technology. Some of the order's knights were capable of beautiful gunplay, Ville, on the the other hand, had always focused on more traditional means, such as sword fighting.
However.
When it came to blowing up things in order to retrieve a therapeutical effect, the raw power of a gun was more so effective than the whispering steel of her thin rapier. Wolkenstahl had other qualities. She didn't desire silence. Not now.
Channeling her aggression into the roaring pistol, Ville pulled the trigger. The weapon was set to semi-automatic, resulting in one explosion of light at the weapon's muzzle.
The bullet launched by the internal explosion hit the head of a target figure in less than a second. It impacted and sank inside... followed by an explosion that tore the head of the silver-skinned bullet-sink. Nothing remained.
It was a satisfying display of violence, even though the puppet returned to its original state after a few seconds. The densified Reishi that made up for this target was able to regenerate, given the bullets were the only thing one used to fire at them. If shot at with something as skilled as a Heilig Pfeil, these constructs would stand no hope of ever returning to their original state.
In a matter of minutes, she spread the rest of her magazine over the width of the entire range, targetting the alloted set of dummies at her disposal. Apparently, the silver-haired knight had a lot of steam to blow.
With the tip of her weapon turned toward the floor, she took her time to analyze the impacts. A couple of shots to the chest, a couple of heads. She'd blown the figures apart without discrimination or favoured target areas. Indeed.
This was just about feeling better.
The Richters had made her hunt for traitors all over the world. It wasn't that she disliked serving them -- it was her purpose -- but the last few hints had been nothing but ruses. From Australia to China, from China to Europe. From Europe to Canada... She'd spent more time within a plane than any sane person should.
With the expression of a lionness, she pulled the weapon's sledge back manually upon the deed of loading a new magazine. she wanted to guide the first new bullet into the gun with her very own hand. Extending her gun-bearing arm toward the reformed targets once again, anewed roaring of fire filled the smooth areal.
She wasn't done by a long shot, even though, the table infront of her carried a respectable pile of used magazines... there was still a pile of unnused clips.
It would be a waste to hand them back to the quarter master, still filled.
