2019-05-09: I'm No Amateur

From Dream Chasers
Jump to navigation Jump to search
  • Log: I'm No Amateur
  • Cast: Rebecca Streisand, Racca
  • Where: Mi'ihen Highroad
  • Date: May 08, 2019
  • Summary: Rebecca, out practicing with her ARM, finds unexpected advice in the form of a Crusader. Or at least, allegedly a Crusader...

<Pose Tracker> Rebecca Streisand has posed.


An empty bottle shatters. A bullet ricochets. Another bottle stands unmarred in defiance.

"Oh come on - the angle was perfect." Rebecca knows that's not true, but her frustration is a disguise for her anxiety. Dean, Avril, and her... it felt like everyone was going to war against Sin. Whereas before everyone went to war against Mother. Not out of some loyalty to a homeland or even a world, but more to...

The girl shakes off the thought before she can complete it. Maybe this made her an irregular soldier of some sort but, it's necessary.

If it's necessary then why does she wish other people would do it instead? She takes it as a sign of her lingering immaturity that she wants someone else to ease off the burden so she could focus just on Avril's problems - and... other things.

If the angle of her trick shot were actually perfect then she'd go to check where the bullet landed to figure out what she did wrong.

She knows it wasn't.

Right now she's set up a ways outside the Crusader Base, near a natural rock formation on where the Mushroom Rock Road meets the Mi'ihen Highroad. This close - she doesn't need to worry about people seeing her open carrying her ARM.

Right there - where she is, the cliffside was carved out into smooth rock like formations that looked positively vase like in how they narrowed and connected to the upper cliff. The fence posts along the road gave her a perfect place to set up.

Standing back a good thirty feet, she thumbs back the hammer, looking over the sight of her gun. Then squinting with her left eye.

Increasing the pressure on the trigger, she squeezed it off, the recoil hardly even jarring her hand with how used to it she was. One bottle instantly shatters, she can hear the ricochet off the concave rock.

The second bottle two posts down wobbles.

Rebecca holds her breath until she realizes the wind picked up mid-shot, looking at one of her red twintails blowing sideways in the wind, her lip twitches in frustration. "Perfect." She mutters - and before long it turns into a sigh.

<Pose Tracker> Racca has posed.

    "You missed the other one," a voice calls out.

    If Rebecca thought herself alone, she is quite mistaken. Boots scuff against stone; footfalls tread on outwards until the owner of the voice comes to a stop perhaps a few yards back from where Rebecca now stands, a good distance behind where her targets of the moment rest.

    The woman is tall. It's difficult to say very much about her but this:
    She wears bright red lacquered armor overtop a form-fitting outfight of black and tan. A loose and slitted red-lined cloth skirt drapes from her hips. Boots finish the ensemble.
    And no part of her face is visible except for her nose and lips, the latter currently tilted in a quite amused smile.

    "You're taking too long to aim, for one," she continues, walking towards the young lady. "Sure, taking your time is good for the amateur, but you're no amateur, are you?"

    A gloved hand lands on Rebecca's shoulder unless evaded, and will there pat the girl goodnaturedly once.

    "The name's Racca. Of the Crusaders."

    Silence, for just the moment.

    "Don't worry. I'm not about to tell anyone on you, little sparrow."

    The hand slips to a bag at her hip -- a largish one.

    From within Racca withdraws a short sidearm, not unlike those used by Aveh soldiers, if it weren't for some apparent alterations with a few components.
    Though it's hard to get a good look when Racca snaps the 'machina' gun forward and squeezes off a single shot without hesitation.

    Glass rains down soon after, littering the rock floor.

    "...Like that. Your gun's your partner. You should know it inside and out," says the mysterious Crusader. "How far you can hit. Where you can hit. Whatever adjustments you need to make for the weather."

    "And what it can and can't do." She offhandedly 'holsters' her machina in her belt.

    "Here. Let me take a look at that one."

<Pose Tracker> Rebecca Streisand has posed.


"I know I missed the-!" Rebecca had no idea she was being observed, and she responds fairly reflexively. As if it was simply Dean coming upon her practice. That was common enough. She realizes her error and turns a moment later, "Oh-!" Rebecca raises her revolver, though not in the direction of the voice. "You were watching that." She comments, though there's no hint of accusation in it, like she's annoyed. More like she's chagrined that she didn't notice.

"Ah-" Perhaps she feels like she needs to explain her ARM, and the word 'Machina' comes to mind in her head. But then the lady critiques her practice and...

"No. I'm no amateur." She confirms, not evading the pat on her shoulder, "It's just... a different kind of shooting that I'm used to." Sure she could manage some basic trick shots, but her accuracy left something to be desired. The nickname though does bring a little flush to her cheeks, like 'little sparrow' was unexpected.

"Rebecca. Nice to meet you- Racca." The girl says for now, noting that most people in Spira just had one name. She figures she'll be marked for an Otherworlder but there's no need to say more than she needs to. "And... I appreciate it. I'm not looking for any trouble." Unless you count Sin, she guesses.

And then she sees her draw a sidearm and there's a flicker of recognition in her eyes, like she realizes it's not like the Machina guns the Crusaders use. Yet she's not really suspicious. Especially when she hears her fire it and hears glass shatter. And she finds herself entranced a bit, so entranced that she doesn't refute what she says. Try to claim she's already like that.

Perhaps it's simply that she naturally recognizes the maturity and voice of authority in such a person.

Her gun spins within her hand, and suddenly she's gripping the barrel - though at an angle where it doesn't threaten her. Offering it over to her by the action and the grip.

"Take a look. Been my partner since I was twelve." That perhaps may reveal a little more about her - but she doesn't seem to mind so much now. Like holding back stuff like that might inhibit the lesson. "Mostly practiced acrobatic shooting. You know. Making a can dance in mid-air while I try to dazzle everyone with how I'm moving while doing that." There's a quirk of her lip. "Now life is getting more complicated and..."

Perhaps she's picturing Volsung.

"... I need to be better." She's perhaps quieter, when saying that.

<Pose Tracker> Racca has posed.

    "I can tell. You've got a good eye and a good form for someone, hmm..." The armored women tilts her head slightly to one side, as if doing some mental math. "Under twenty, I'd say, from the look of you. Am I wrong?" There is again that slight smile, as if she were party to a particularly juicy little secret.

    "Oh?" Racca says, with the sort of tone that suggests a raised eyebrow, somewhere there under the helmet. "And what sort of shooting do you usually do?"

    Perhaps it's the nature of her being a Crusader -- of her being party to tools and means that seem to be taboo to most of the people of Spira. But Racca seems quite relaxed when it comes to talk of using machina.
    Perhaps different people obey different rules.

    The 'machina' -- whatever its true origins, however it came into this Crusader's possession (there are a dozen possibilities at this stage alone) -- for all its heavy and cruder appearance in comparison to Rebecca's own weapon almost seems to dance in the stranger's left hand. Not beyond its limits, but within them.

    Then holstered following the demonstration shot, Racca reaches out with her left hand again to take the offered ARM. She turns, as if to inspect it under better lighting.

    Her lips move briefly. Her gloved hand traces the grip and barrel before she finds what she's looking for.
    The maker's mark.
    Racca's lips split in a brief grin.

    "Since twelve? Heh. Not a bad age to learn how to use something like this," the apparent Crusader remarks, before handing the revolver back over. "I can tell this one's a good weapon. Lightweight, quick on the draw... maybe not the most powerful but you don't need it to be, do you? At the end of the day, sometimes the first shot is the only one you need."

    Her hand rests on her hip while Rebecca tells her what sort of tricks she usually pulls off.

    "Really. I don't suppose you could give me a little demonstration?"

    She glances about as if in search of something that would make a worthwhile target, but seemingly comes up empty.

    "...Not an abundance of cans here, are there?"

    ...Maybe someone brought a can with them to Spira and passed it around? That might explain it?

    "But maybe I can give you a pointer or two. What're you trying to do with that little machina of yours?"

<Pose Tracker> Rebecca Streisand has posed.


Rebecca allows a little smile to creep on her face at the compliment, like it's saying she's mature for her age. "Eighteen." She confides. It's really been two years since she left Capo Bronco with the pair of them. "Well..."

The kind of shooting she does is revealed soon enough, though she adds, "Unfortunately mostly the kind of shooting I've done lately is the kind where we need... to defend ourselves." The circus dreams are kind of off the table at the moment. It's just... the reality of the situation.

She isn't depressed over that fact though. Perhaps she's found something more precious in it's place.

"Yeah it was our town's tradition." She grins, "Once you hit your twelfth birthday, you're given one as this... practical symbol you're not a kid anymore."

Dean and her hit that around the same time, and she remembers there only being one ARM for them. Dean ceding it to her for her dreams...

"All those things." Rebecca's face keeps that grin as she takes it back, "My philosophy is if I need more than one - it means I need to work harder so that one day I only need one."

But then - she asks for a demonstration. "Ah..." Holding up a finger. Rebecca walks over to a leather satchel she has laying on the side of the path, opens the flap and produces an empty can. "No but... I always keep some spares. Can hardly keep up practice if I don't have one."

However, she doesn't launch straight into it. Instead she walks over to the post with the left most shattered bottle. The silhouette of the concave rock formation behind it. "See how it's curved? If it's flat I can - at least manage it some of the time. The angle is pretty clear. What I'm trying to do..."

Rebecca draws an invisible line through her hand through the bottle, to the slope of the wall. Then points towards where Racca shot the second bottle. "I want to be able to make that kind of shot no matter where I am. Build up an instinct so I can make it - every time - the first time. So long as I've got a sturdy enough surface to work with."

Holstering the Pizzicato Pistol, she then holds the can up into her palm, "As for the kind of shooting I'm good at..." There's a casualness to the way she flings the can in an arc away from the two of them. She draws the revolver quickly, however there's a purposeful delay in the theatrical flourish of her spinning it up to the line of the can's descent. Squeezing off a shot, the can is struck in mid-air and spins upwards in the vertical. Then tucking the hand with the gun behind her back, she shoots it again as it makes its descent, keeping up the juggling with the can. Now, she fires off three more, each one from a low left - to a low right - to a low left. Causing the can to juggle from side to side.

She doesn't forget there's one less bullet in the chamber. With a flick of her wrist, the cylinder opens and the casings fall out, and she jams in another full clip to reload, before actually tossing the gun itself up. She fires instantly and the gun is prevented from hitting the ground at the last moment, keeping it up high.

Now spinning herself from side to side in a low stance, she catches the can again. Throws the revolver up in the air - catching it to fire off another shot. And another to keep it aloft.

Bending at the knees, she jumps in an acrobatic somersault sideways. Firing in mid-air to keep up her streak.

Upon landing in a small plume of dust, she instantly springs backwards, curling up as she flips backwards and- then, untucking - fires off three more shots. The can jukes from side to side in it's aerial dance, before changing direction to come back towards her.

As she lands, she holds out a palm, and the now mutilated can falls down to land tellingly in her palm.

As gunsmoke wafts out of the revolver, she winks a single eye at Racca, "How's that for a demonstration?"

<Pose Tracker> Racca has posed.

    "Eighteen. Well, you've certainly got one up on me already," the Crusader cryptically comments.

    As for needing to defend herself, meanwhile--
    "Well, nothing wrong with that. Better you than them -- especially in a place like this, right?" Racca gestures stiffly with her right hand, as if to take in all of the rock walls and canyon and whatever awful things might be lurking behind every stone. "It's not as if you can reason with a Fiend. Or Sin, for that matter, though if I were you..." Racca glances away. "I'd just run."

    Some things you can't reason with or fight, which means that all that's left for it is to get away, as quickly as is possible.

    "Hmm. Quite the tradition. I suppose it's dangerous where you come from?" Racca asks, regarding Rebecca a touch more closely than before. Has she worked out that Rebecca is an Outlander, or does she suspect her of being something... else?

    "Good choice," Racca says, a similar smile on her lips. "You never know when you won't get a second shot, after all." Far from being a rebuke or a caution, there is a decidedly light-hearted lilt to her words, here.

    It's a shame there's no demonstration to be had.

    Or so it seems, until Rebecca, as it were, saves the day.

    "Well, well. Now that's preparation," Racca muses, taking a step back to assume a safe position--

    Then stops.

    "Ahaa. So a different setup than the firing range? Good idea; you can't count on optimal conditions at all times. But you don't just need to think about the angle out here. Look--"

    Racca gestures as the wind again picks up.

    "Down here the winds can get strong enough to make a bullet dance where it shouldn't. You know that machina of yours best, but more than likely..."

    "...You'll want to lean your shot into the wind."

    No sooner has Racca finished what she has to say than a shot rings out.

    Racca's apparent gaze jerks upwards, at first following the can.
    Before returning to Rebecca proper. Oh, yes, she will indeed watch the can where she can (so to speak), but the bulk of her attention is on Rebecca.
    And Rebecca's form.

    Particularly when the girl adds an acrobatic element to her trick shooting, layering physical prowess and skill the already impressive performance.

    When Rebecca finishes, Racca applauds.

    "Not bad. Not bad at all. You ever think about--" Racca appears to reconsider whatever she had been about to say, and makes an abrupt right turn. "Think about joining the Crusaders? We could use a girl with skills like yours, little sparrow."

    Though Racca shrugs. "It's your call. Now... you said you wanted to learn how to shoot into the wind? Let's see if I can't give you a few pointers."

    She gestures for Rebecca to head on over towards her. "Right here. Show me your stance. Pretend there's a nice sitting duck of a target, right off that way..."

<Pose Tracker> Rebecca Streisand has posed.


"Hm?" Rebecca sounds as Racca notes she's got one up on her. She doesn't probe though, just figuring maybe she learned to shoot late. However she does agree with a nod of her head, "Mmm-hmm." Though she avoids noting that Spira is actually friendlier than she's used to. Here it's mostly not people that will kill you. Just Fiends. And Sin.

Ot at least she does avoid it until... "Yeah. We're situated near..." Licking her lips, she notes while being non-specific, "Someplace dangerous." She doesn't want to say the word Veruni, "And in a small town, everyone has to pull their weight if something happens. Take care of our own. If a dangerous critter treads on town limits, we've only got ourselves to rely on."

Afterwards she's mostly quiet, listening to the lesson. "Hmm." Rebecca takes off a glove, shifting it to her other hand with the can, and licks a finger, holding it up to the wind. Like she's thinking on it. "I see. Mostly with a revolver I'm not shooting at a range where I need to think about it... but... maybe I should start. I find myself having to compensate for the drop off of my shots more and more - trying to hit things further and further away."

Then her routine happens. The applause is nice, and she even places an arm across her gut and dips into a little curtsey, before spinning her gun back into it's holster.

Then there's this little tilt of her head and a smile at the recruitment offer, "Thanks. But - no thanks. Me and my friends - we're here to help with your Operation against Sin. But right now, joining up, going my own way?" There's an even warmer smile after a moment, like she's thinking of something that makes her happy, "Last thing on my mind. Even if the Circus came calling."

That's her call. Apparently. But- "Absolutely. Whatever pointers you have to give me. I'm self-taught. So never really... had someone who could teach me anything but the bare bones basics. Could outshoot everyone back home within a year - except Tony maybe - he never would show me how he shoots." Rebecca perhaps has at least enough wisdom to know that someone who isn't willing to show off their skills doesn't mean they don't have any. Perhaps she thinks he's secretly some Marksman.

Rebecca walks on towards her. Then looks the way she gestures. Squaring her stance so she's horizontal, like it's exposing as little of her as possible. Knees only slightly bent to keep herself loose, she draws the gun without her gunspinning flourish, elbow bent just slightly. No showing off. She just points it in that direction Racca indicated to show her exactly how she stands when she's just shooting.

<Pose Tracker> Racca has posed.

    It is a bit of a sea change from Filgaia in that regard, isn't it? Even the rest of Lunar -- as different as it was from where she was born and raised (so to speak) -- had more of the same old same old in terms of human aggressions. Maybe it's the presence of the giant killer whale that forces people to more or less behave...

    "Figures," Racca comments, coupling the word with a shake of her head. "Still, it's good to see people taking a more proactive approach to self-defense. ...Not that I mind pulling people out of a bind, but it's always better for people to stand on their own feet, eh?"

    Rebecca seems to be taking the advice to heart. "Exactly," Racca affirms, nodding once and firmly. "Watch your surroundings. Get a feeling for how far you can shoot, what angles make a shot more or less difficult. Think about what you can do to change the odds in your favor. And..."

    She points, at the rock wall itself. "Think about how to use the environment. For example, maybe you could bounce a shot off the rock wall. It'd be tricky to pull it off, but--" and here she gives Rebecca a hearty clap on the back, "with some practice, the world's your oyster, eh?"

    Particularly considering the routine she presents that follows. Girl's got good aim and athletic prowess. Together, she's likely to make anyone who crosses her regret it.

    In time, at least.

    Racca's reaction to that refusal is to... chuckle. "Somehow, I figured you'd say that. Don't worry about it -- you're still young, yet. Maybe come back around and put your life on the line when you're older, eh?"

    There's the distinct impression that Racca would have winked, without that helmet obscuring her eyes.

    "But as for pointers... sure. All I'm doing today is patrol. Heh." A short bark of a laugh, there. "My mentor used to say that teaching's how you know your stuff, and I haven't teached in a dog's year. Well, no time like the present. Now, come here, let me see..." She beckons Rebecca over.

    And immediately sets about making a few fine adjustments to Rebecca's posture.

    "Put your foot just a fraction to the left here -- that'll help with recoil."
    "Tuck your elbow in. Not too far, though. It'll help keep your arm steady."
    "Chin up -- you'll want to know how to fire blind, but keep your eyes on the prize whenever you can."

    And so on -- all the little tips and tricks that it would take someone a good half-lifetime to learn on their own, at the least.