Little Girl with A Big Gun (Open)

A loud piercing sound echoes through the range littered with the popping of small handguns and rifle fire. A gun, the same caliber as the one held in the hands of the screaming little lady goes off a few booths down at the same range. Down at the end of the range, the furthest target has a large chunk missing in the center. I look through the scope to confirm to myself that I had been a few millimeters off target, but still a bull’s eye. I lean up and eject the casing and reload the sniper rifle.

Some time had passed since I last came out here to train my marksmanship. A lot of things had happened in that time. I had went from being a vigilante to being a Sergeant of the city’s swat division and instead of risking my life in drug deals gone wrong in a twisted attempt to find the truth behind my parents murder, I now professionally suppressed spirits and demonic activity hiding the truth from a public who did not need to know better. I was dressed in my usual attire of a black boots, cargo pants, a black shirt with an opened tactical vest with various utility compartments and a leg strap that held the holster for my primary side arm with a pair of sports shades resting on my nose and a black cap that covers my hair in my hair above my bangs. The badge on the chest portion of my vest makes it apparent that I am a cop. I bet if Ingel saw me now, he might think me a different person. I hadn’t seen him since he and his girlfriend were practicing their shooting at the ranges. Last I heard, he had a girlfriend and a job, so life should be going smooth for my range friend.

I hold the sniper rifle in my left arm as I take off the glasses in my right, pulling them free of my ears and looking into them. They were visual enhancement glasses courtesy of the Division and I had been testing to see if they interfered with my shot or not. I slide them back onto my face and then set up for another shot. Normally utilizing a sniper rifle, I would be in a prone or crouched position, but this time, I decide to fire while standing since it added several variables of aim increasing the difficulty in handling the weapon. Being a marksman for some time, I had long gotten used to things like recoil. 428

The barrel of the gun lowers as I hear my name called by a familiar voice; speak of the devil. I turn around and recognize Ingel, sporting his trench coat with a smile. A warm expression comes to my face as my right hand comes up and pulls the shades from my face, hanging them in one of the pockets of my vest. I greet the police officer with a “hello, it’s been a while.” The sniper rifle is lowered in my left hand after setting the safety and walk over towards him to shake extending a hand for a shake. “Seems like I found employment as a cop as well,” I assume he is still in the profession he was when I last spoke to him. Of course, it would be obvious on my end, given my change in attire. In an aside to our conversation, there seemed to be a lot of commotion coming a few booths down. Earlier while I was shooting, there were a lot of cat calls and yelling, but generally with things that weren’t my business, I had a tendency to stay out. But by the looks of it, someone had a gun they probably were not capable of handling just yet. 208

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I step back after the hand shake is renders and stand for the conversation as I assure, "I have a desk, but I rarely stay behind it. I'm avoiding that promotion." I still felt that I was too young for the whole desk job aspect of civil service; it wasn't that I liked to run around and chase things, but it was more like I preferred to make sure something was done correctly, or at least to supervise it on site. "It gets me by," I say as we are interrupted by more loud speaking. On top of that, there seemed to be someone on the range who had no clue how to even hold a pistol. My sideward gaze shifts back to Ingel as I sigh, "they'll let anyone on the ranges these days." Generally, the range should have it's own security or some typ eof administrator who make sure the grounds were orderly; but it was just as likely that they had the police's phone number in case something went wrong. With two officers standing here, it would look bad if we did not say anything at all. With a nod, I agree with Ingel and motion towards the place where the young lady was currently being harassed as I sit down my sniper rifle, leaning it against the side guard of the booth. Maybe our presence and just walking over would be enough to get the bored fellows back to what they were doing. "I'll let you talk," I delegate passively to Ingel in kind of a joking manner. 262

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I pause for a moment after the caustic greeting from the young girl, not particularly aroused or amused at the peep show. My gaze shifts back to Ingel in a manner that suggests in a cynical manner, ‘hey can I shoot her?’ but instead of vocalizing anything, I simply survey the males around us. Wary of law enforcement, chances were not too many people would pipe up. Most where here just to have a good time and practice shooting. If there were some unsavory elements, the last people they would want to mess with would be a couple of cops. Then again after her initial response, I would have a mind to tell the men around her to continue as they were and continue about my business. It isn’t until I take a second glance at her that I notice she was the girl in the pink hummer from the demon attack. The same sandpaper like personality confirms that both the girl there and the girl here were the same person. This leads to the question, why would what seemed to be a high school girl be carrying a sniper rifle and just so happen to be at a sight of a large demon attack? Another lunatic demon hunter set to get in the way of Division 12. It is almost amusing that her rifle gets jammed up, but my comments are internally kept as I allow the speaking officer to handle the response given. 245

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