Guns, Alcohol, and Pain
Location: Townsend Tower/Firing range
Timeline: Friday, February 3, 2012/Morning
The smell was spicy and sharp and left a sour, metallic aftertaste on the roof of his mouth as Jon finished firing the Browning, clearing the magazine with a clatter to the table in front of him. He put the gun down and hit the button to return the target to him. As he waited, he picked up the half full bottle of scotch on the table and took a long drink from it, swaying slightly, not just from the booze, but also because he was still getting used to his new leg.
Jon took off his ear protectors and safety goggles and eyed the target. “Fuck,” he muttered. What he saw could only generously be called a grouping. He angrily tore down the paper target and shoved another in its place.
Hearing the door behind him open, Jon jumped, grabbed the gun, spun, and aimed it. He found himself staring into the calm, dark eyes of a beautiful blonde.
“Fock, Cece!” Jon cursed. “I could’ve shot yeh.”
Cecily shook her head, pushing an errant strand of blonde hair from in front of her eyes and pointed to the table behind Jon. He turned and saw the empty magazine there, then looked at the unloaded pistol.
“Still not smart t’ sneak up on a bloke like that!”
Cecily tilted her head and arched a perfect blonde eyebrow. She pointed again, this time to the bottle.
“Shut it,” Jon snapped, slapping the gun down on the table. “I’m fine.” Jon put his hand on the wall of the cubicle to steady himself as he turned back to her too fast.
He calmed and gave her a smile. “Wot’s that yeh got there, luv?” Jon asked.
Cecily looked down. She had something in her hand wrapped in a towel. She looked a bit surprised to see it, actually. She shrugged and looked up at Jon.
Jon raised an eyebrow. He reached out and unfolded the towel a bit. “An ice pack?” he asked, credulous.
“Bloody hell, yer a strange woman,” Jon said, shaking his head with a chuckle.
Cecily dropped her gaze, looking embarrassed.
Jon took the ice pack and put it on the counter behind him. Then he lifted Cecily’s chin and kissed her, deeply and passionately. The young blonde gasped, but then was kissing him back, running her hands over Jon’s muscled chest. She pulled away after a bit and blushed.
“Yeh wanna try, luv?” Jon asked, indicating the gun. “I can get yeh something smaller, if yeh like.”
Cecily stared at the gun and worried her lower lip. Then she nodded.
Jon smiled. He got Cecily a set of protective gear and set her up with a smaller nine millimeter Glock. He got up behind her and showed her how to hold it, his arms around her as he helped her aim at the target down range. She felt good in his arms, and he pressed up against her. He nuzzled the blonde hair aside to kiss and nibble on her neck.
“Mm. There’s nothing like a woman with a gun, luv,” he murmured as he nibbled her ear.
Cecily froze, the gun wavering.
Then suddenly pain flared in John’s side.
“Jesus Christ! Mother fucker!” Jon exclaimed as he clutched his ribs, falling back against the wall of the cubicle.
Cecily turned calmly as Jon lifted his shirt to reveal his muscled six pack. Nothing appeared wrong, but pain flared.
“Oh, you stupid bitch!” Jon muttered, sending his anger down the link to Bethany.
Cecily sighed and picked up the ice pack. She pressed it to Jon’s side.
Jon blinked, his hand covering hers and holding the ice pack to his ribs. “How did yeh know?”
Jon growled. “Right. Yer a bloody freak, just like her,” he snapped. ‘Like everyone in this damn place!”
Cecily stiffened and glowered at Jon. She slapped him and then stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
“Fockin’ women,” Jon muttered, picking up the loaded Glock and staring at it, clutching his side. It would be so easy…
NPC Xander Carlisle