Learning Lessons
Lessons Learned
Summary: Barnabas helps Dell learn how to be a better shot.
Date: PHD 221
Related Logs: None.
Players:
Dell..Barnabas..

Dell is already in the firing range with one Sergeant Barnabas Volker since Dell can't be in here to practice shooting since he needs a marine to be present with him and he is a recruit waiting for a meeting with Ezra. Dell's voice is appreciative as he says, "Thanks for helping me out, mis…sir." He adds, "Sorry not used to this marine life, sir and I haven't even begun basic." He picks up a rifle with a scope and he looks the weapon over appreciatively as he checks her over. Clearly he is used to being around guns since he treats the weapon with respect, "I want to be a sniper, sir. So, I can put a bullet between every single toasters eyes without them even knowing I did it."

"Well, you're off to a good start." Barnabas is rubbing the impressively calloused thumb of his right hand against his chin when he finally replies, pressing one shoulder up against the side of the booth while the other arm crosses his chest. "Consider this your 'pre-familiarization' familiarization." The Sergeant gives a little nod of the head towards the rifle. "A blind mallard could hit the ten-spot with a scope at these ranges, so unless you want to grab a pistol from the locker back there, we'll be going over the specifications of that Milirem 700. At the very least you can dazzle the Major with knowledge."

Dell looks at the rifle for a moment, "Give me a pistol and I could get a headshot everytime at the lower ranges." His voice is serious and it doesn't sound like he is boasting since this comes from a certain confidence in his abilities, "Before the bombs dropped I was a farmer and a hunter, sir." He studies the rifle, "And I would love to learn the specifications of the Milirem 700. sir." He places the rifle down because Barnabas is right and a blind mallard could hit the bullseye. As the gun is put down his full attention falls on the Sergeant, "Enlighten me, sir."

Barney takes his shoulder from the edge of the divider, brushing it off before standing as upright as he can possibly get. The Sergeant begins to channel the memories of his own boot experience, rattling off specifications in a way that would make most instructors proud. "Milirem 700, the current CMC weapons system tasked with engaging targets at long range. Chambered in seven-point-six-two by fifty-one millimetres, and with a muzzle velocity of over two-thousand feet per second, it has an effective range of over eight-hundred metres. You've got your fixed power 10x40mm U3 telescopic sight, as well as the detachable emergency irons. Those are what make this a weapons system, not just a weapon." Somewhere in the middle of his speech, The Sergeant's hands clasped behind his back, turning the casual stat-listing into a drill-like bellow. "While it can be loaded with a detachable box magazine containing ten-rounds, if you ever reach the lofty heights of being a designated sniper on this ship, you will most often be using the internal magazine, capable of holding five rounds with which you will be expected to hand over to toasters one at a time." His eyes drop to Dell from their focal point somewhere along the ceiling. "Any questions?"

"Sir, no, sir." Dell says as seems eager to use such a weapon against the cylons, "Bottom line, I can hit toasters from a good kill range and one shot one kill seems to be the order of the day. Same as taking the head off a turkey from over five hundred paces." He remains quiet since if anything Dell seems a bit angry toward the cylons and he is soaking in this information. Dell's eyes are focused on Barnabas since revenege is a hell of a motivator to listen and learn. Silence is the next thing to follow since Dell is here to soak in as much information as possible. Though he does stop, "Sir, might I be allowed to train with a pistol right now?"

Satisfied with Dell's answer, Barney gives a curt nod of the head before tilting it in the direction of the small arms locker. "Glad you didn't have any, actually. I was never meant to be a marksman…" his eyebrow raises in a little moment of self-realisation. "That's why it's got a muzzle velocity of 'Over 2,000 feet.' I'll be damned if I can remember the actual number." A little cough, and he eyes the locker once more. "Grab a sidearm. We'll put all those damned thumb-callousing rounds to some use."

Dell moves to his sign in for his firearm as he gives the Milirem 700 he signed out for with some hope back over and he signs again for this. "Sir, should I expect this much paperwork every time?" He is handed a firearm, the fleet standard sidearm. He makes sure the safety is on which it is before he then drops the clip, "Rubber? What am I a girl?" He says this in surly and disappointed tones as he looks over at Barnabas, "Are you frakking serious?" He says with a great deal of disappointment. He then winces and says, "Er, Are you frakking serious, sir?"

Barney can't help but let his lips curl at one corner, dragging the scarred half of his face upwards with it. Sometimes a man just can't resist, after all. "We stay alive for long enough, this ship's gonna need more than a little refurbishing." Said calloused thumb jabs towards the wall behind the aligned paper targets downrange. "Material for fixin' that wall might be useful for patching up a breach enough to asphyxiate us all."

"Fine." He says and a moment later, "Sir." Dell is not in the mood and in shows in his face because smart money says that at this moment he is patient enough to wait until someone says fire but he hates the cylons enough to kill them all. He is going to be the sort of Marine that is only interested in making sure the enemy is dead. "Permission to bring rubber death upon my target, sir?" He asks as he moves into position placing his sidearm down on the table in front of him as he is waiting for permission to fire and he has learned enough to know that he needs permission to shoot.

Barney's knuckles rap against the divider wall before reaching behind it to pull out ear protection, as well as protective eyewear. "I get in trouble if you get tinnitis before reaching Ezra's desk. Plus they're oh so fetching." The items are dropped down onto the range-booth table, then the Sergeant takes a few steps back. "Apart from that, Fire when ready."

Fire when ready, three words that are music to Dell's ears and the recruit picks up his firearm and he aims in what seems like a fraction of a second as the gun is pulled and fired and a head shot is clearly scored on the marker. He then places the gun down and he waits for the hit to be marked before he says, "No tinnitis, sir." He says this in honest tones and that is the odd thing he says this in the most honest of honest tones and it is kind of weird. As the sheet comes forward to reveal a perfect headshot Dell looks over at Barnabas and he says, "How can I improve, sir?" While other marines might sound cocky Dell means it since his eyes fall on Barney, "I mean it, how can I kill these bastards more efficently because I wanna know, sir."

Barney gives a little nod as the target slides in closer. Apparently that's about as far as the Sergeant is willing to go with appreciation for today. "Conjure us up more armor-piercing rounds. And explosives. A toaster is a damn easy target to hit, all things considered." His eyes stay focused on the target for now, all through his talking. "It's doing solid damage that comes a little harder. Easiest way is to focus your fire. Know what your team is going to aim at, and focus everything you've got on that singular target. Rinse, repeat. You'll be taught all of this during training." The guy's all business, so apprently it's a serious topic.

Dell listens to Barnabas and it is genuine listening, "Yeah, we had problems back on Scorpia about them. I'm still convinced one good shot through the eyes will blind them even if it won't kill them." He looks at the target, "Solid damage. I will try that." He asks, "How often are armor-piercing round or explosive rounds used, sir?" He continues to look at his hit and he isn't impressed by this and it isn't because of ego it is out of sheer hate. "Focus on the team." He repeats to himself as if to memorize it. "Thank you, sir." The sir this time is appreciative as if someone who didn't know before is learning lessons for killing the enemy.

"If we've got the stocks? All the time. AP more than anything else. Last time I checked, we still had plenty to feed the MG's. The simple fact of it is, the old ones of us still left spent the years of our life training against targets you can take down with a few rounds centre mass." Barney's arms cross over said chest, partially driving the point home, partially just because it's more comfortable. "Now we're fighting things that can shrug off standard ammunition by the magazine. Overwhelming fire is the best way with minimal casualties."

Dell nods his head, "Many hands make for light work, sir. Same as on a farm. So it makes sense considering that you want as many people as possible aiming for the same target." He then nods in agreement, "Same as hunting, aim for the biggest target and you can take the beast down." He looks at the target for a moment and he says, "Sir, any chance that I can get another shot? Multiple shots this time?"

Nodding his head once more, Barney turns his focus back on the target, letting it roll back downrange. "Clear the entire magazine." Well, that's as good a 'yes' as any. "In your own time."

In your time, another beautiful expression since this is all Dell needs to pick up the pistol and fire three more shots in what seems like almost zero time. This time Dell aims for the biggest target and he doesn't miss as each shot makes a connection in the chest of the target, they are close together but not close enough to count for anything other than solid hits. Were these explosive rounds the target would have been dead and were the rounds AP rounds than the target would be seriously hurt. "Again, sir, how can I improve?" Dell it would seem wants to know how to kill the enemy in every scenario.

Barney watches the rounds hit the target, keeping his arms firmly across his own chest. For a moment, his lips purse, then he answers. "Right now? You can't. When you start training with evveryone else, you'll learn everything you need. You've certainly got the aim to be good enough, although it might be worth taking a little more time on your shots." He steps away from the booth, seemingly trusting the young man not to shoot something he shouldn't while the Sarge's back is turned. "Let the recoil bleed off before you fire again, it'll help with the grouping. Being that fast'll just get the women snickering." Ah, that explains it. The Sarge starts filling up a few discarded magazines with loose ammo. Apparently that's his usual pastime while in the range. Giving Dell a little glance, he nods once more at the target. "Plenty of ammunition to use, feel free. Try counting to three before each trigger pull this time."

Dell picks up the pistol and he counts to three after every shot four go to the chest and two go just above that and the recruit creates a smiley face as the smile consists of four shots to the chest that make a slightly off smile and the eyes are slightly uneven but slight is a minor term here. "Counting to three seems to work, sir."

"'Course it does. Works for most things, although ten is better when trying not to punch squadmates in the shoulder. Or face." Barney keeps on sliding the loose ammunition into rapidly-filling magazines. The callouses are there for a reason, after all. "Looks like you're going to fit in fine."

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