Alt Upotte: Say Hello! Shake a Hand!

[Finorskia]

The sun rose high on the English countryside which, for the first time in weeks, was enjoying some very non-English weather. The rays of early morning sun glistened off the dew that had settled there from the night before. Slowly the suns rays began to dry the dew causing the grass to become nice and soft, but not a shoe ruining wet. Birds chirp from their perches in the trees, their lofty melodies welcoming the new day. A spider spins its web preparing for the days harvest of mindless insects, while a curious lady bug climbs a blade of grass. Higher and higher he climbs, reaching for the top to see what he can see. Suddenly a large black object blots out the sun, and descends on the poor ladybug. Quickly the bug spreads its wings to avoid the foot fall of the young elementary schooler as she hurries on her way to her morning practice at Hastings Academy. Narrowly escaping death the ladybug lands on a wooden post in front of a large, our of place, sand dune and right in front of the scope of AW50. The sniper rifle, wanting to show off, took the shot and the ladybug was no more. With a grin the English sniper rifle turned to face the group of sniper rifle groupies that were applauding his excellent work. He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by a smack to the head from Browning M2, the teacher.

"That technically counts as a miss you know." Her comment directed at AW50's shot at the ladybug and no the target. "Now the rest of you back in line." She snaps at the crowed of groupies. She continues on down the line, greeting new weapons as they arrive and take up their positions.

"Remember all snipers need to get a 10 shot grouping on a target one thousand five hundred meters away, battle rifles a ten shot grouping at seven hundred meters. LMG's need to get ten shot groupings on three targets also at seven hundred meters." M2 lists off the tasks of the High Schoolers morning practice as she paces up and down the firing line, inspecting everyone's form. From the observation zone Headmaster SMLE makes a note on his clipboard. After several minutes of observing the high schoolers he decides its time to move on to inspecting Ithaca 37's middle school class. It takes him a good five minutes to walk from the high school section of the academy to the middle school section, where the assault rifles and shotguns were busy with their morning practice. Upon arrival he steps into the observation zone and begins taking his notes. The birds had stopped chirping having evacuated their perches for a more serene place to sing their morning hymns, rather than the noisy Hastings Academy, School for the Gifted...Rifle.

[Occupied Deutschland]

Chink

The rifle's action locked back after the last round was ejected with the distinctive sound of metal-on-metal contact, and Samfopal Vzor 58 raised her rifle to point to the sky as she released the spent magazine. The front handguards wafted out a light white smoke, and she consciously avoided gripping the them any more than necessary, resting the folding buttstock in the crook of her elbow so she only needed one hand to hold the rifle. With her other, she absently fanned herself.

She was technically a little early, but she preferred it that way. That way there weren't as many guns on the firing line to give her odd looks for her ears. The Cold War might be long-over, but the old rivalries still loomed large. Samfopal absently raised one hand and swung hair that had blown forward into her face backwards, taking the opportunity to be sure the rest of her hairdo covered the ears as much as it could.

Besides her own comfort though, there was also the enjoyability of the range itself. The school provided quality brass-cased ammo for students to use, which was in and of itself an incentive to practice. Better than that though were the noncorrosive primers! Samfopal's stomach still turned when she thought of the steel-cased corrosive garbage she used to shoot. This was much better. Not to mention easier.

"Yo! Headmaster-man! Morning!" she called, offering a wave to the old British rifle to accompany the not-quite-right sounding words. They had a slight accent that bit off the end of them, but more than that it was very obvious that she was not used to actually saying things like 'yo' or 'man' in normal speech. They sounded much more like words she was trying to prove she could use correctly, like a child cursing for the first time.

"I'm going to take a breather teach!" she called, sounding slightly more comfortable in her own wording. Racking the slide of her rifle, she closed the receiver back up, then dry-fired to release the tension on the striker. That done, she flicked on the safety and set the rifle down on the bench.

Stepping back from the firing line, Samfopal took a deep breath of the morning air, enjoying the surprisingly non-rainy weather for a change. With a practiced ease, she whipped her hair back from the sides of her neck with both hands and ran her hands through the knee-length locks to be sure nothing had gotten into them. She liked her hair, and never had any issue with it knotting itself, but leaves and junk had an annoying tendency to get in if she wasn't careful.

[Yalos]

YAWN!

As narrow rays of sunlight pierced through her window and upon her calm, unperturbed face, AK-12, referred to more commonly by her friends as “Dven-Kalash,” began to drag herself from the realm of her dreams, and into the stony, grim world of reality. Smacking her lips and tasting the bitterness of her dry mouth, she began to push herself into a waking position, her leaden eyes forcing themselves open, resisting the inevitable as Dven began to open her mouth into a massive, gaping chasm. Yawning, as if for the entire world to hear, Dven blinked a few times, trying to overcome her fatigue, letting her eyes wander as they fell upon her pink, “Hello Kitty” alarm clock. Those eyes suddenly popped wide open in a mixture of shock and tired apathy as she realized that she hadn’t set an alarm the night before. Scrambling and tossing her bed sheets aside, her fatigue suddenly forgotten, Dven revealed her matching “Hello Kitty” pajamas, thick, woolen and adorned with images of the innocent kitty’s face. Dven slid down her polished ebony ladder, not even bothering with the rungs as she jumped off halfway down, coming to a rest in the center of the room, and scrambled to the closet she shared with her elder sister, APS, who was probably snoring away with the bathtub half filled, as usual. Fingering through a selection of six different variants of the same school uniform, she decided to go red today, grabbing a shirt with red lace around the sleeves and collar.


“Avto! We have to go! Practice begins in like, twelve minutes!” she yelled, before turning to the refrigerator and stuffing a scone into her mouth rather unceremoniously.


As she slipped her arms into the coat jacket, she noticed that a bit of a cream and a number of blue berries had plopped onto the floor, and scattered themselves across the floor. Sighing in frustration, she quickly grabbed a towel and wiped them up, tossing the towel into the laundry basket where a number of APS’s swim suits and her own uniforms lay, all crying out for cleaning, but receiving none. She had neglected her chores, but APS didn’t really seem to mind, so the work hadn’t been done. Resolving to get the cleaning done today, she nodded to herself and finished her scone. Turning to the bathroom door, she signed once more and simply left a few scones on the table for her sister to pick up after waking, and made her careful way out the door, careful to not knock anything over lest she have to do any more menial cleaning that would keep her from getting to morning practice.


Out the door, she began to run, her shoes pounding upon the concrete, creating a ricocheting sort of sound in the school corridors. Light flooded through the school’s arcs and structural fixtures glaring upon her face in irregular intervals, creating a sense of irritation which was further exacerbated by the realization that her pretty, petit shoes were beginning to get wet as she ran through the shallow, but still quite potent, puddles on her way to class. Dven would’ve cursed had it not been for her “regal” upbringing as a member of the Elite and widely known Kalashnikov family, which had transferred to this British school after the collapse of the Soviet Union. She remembered the maid scolding her and reprimanding her for failing to keep her shoes clean, or for not taking enough baths or some other refined nonsense. Of course, Dven was being bred for the title of the next Russian military rifle, so this acerbic and austere lifestyle was only expected of her. One didn’t simply become the next Great Russian assault rifle and replace the AK-74 by being a normal girl. With her family status and fame came a great responsibility and she couldn’t afford to reflect poorly upon the public, hence the regimentation and finery that she had been forced to endure throughout her life.


Passing by a statue of the long retired British Charleville Musket, she took the time to snap a quick salute out of piety and respect to those great guns that had come before her, the great muskets that had first revolutionized the face of warfare. She often wondered what it had been like, back then, fighting in ranks with one’s comrades, shoulder to shoulder. She often wondered if life had been simpler back then, with guns simply performing and doing their military duties and not being bothered with this media and press attention that guns seemed to receive a lot of today, the media attention that determined a gun’s ability to find users. Luckily, Dven could count on lots of buyers and lots of fans because of who her sisters had been, but she yearned for a fame that was distinctly her own, or rather just any kind of judgment not based on the performance of her infamous sisters. She felt that she was a pretty capable rifle, with lots of neat features that many of her peers lacked. Yet…the rejection from the Russian Army had been a pretty harsh blow…turning to face the ground, she tried to wish the memory away. Especially since her hopes had been put so high…all of the testers and politicians had looked upon her favorably, Putin himself giving her a hug and telling her that she was going to change this world. But…the final decision came down to the Russian Army, which already had 8 million surplus models of the AK-74. She was relegated to use by Security and Special Forces, not quite gaining the notoriety she had so long desired.


“I…I hate AK-74…” she mumbled, shocking herself. “I… might hate my sister.”


She lingered at the statue for a few more moments, looking in her great descendant’s courageous eyes, and even though she wasn’t British herself, Dven felt a sense of family, of connection, and could almost hear the long deceased rifle’s soothing voice telling her that it would all be alright.

Dven smiled and ran off to the practice range.

[Volvek]

Since nobody stepped up, Shadow decided to fire first and stepped up to the firing line. She crouched down then laid down to on her stomach. She slid in one of her magazines and pulled back on the charging handle and finished with pressing the bolt release, leading the first of her ten rounds into the chamber. She pressed her right cheek against her cheek rest and closed her left eye, staring through the small hole of her rear iron sights with her right, lining it up with the front sight. She flicked her selector switch forward turning it from fully automatic to semi-automatic. She breathed slowly, and as she exhaled with the last of her breath escaping her body she pulled the trigger and fired her first shot, then slowly took in another breath as she examined the target. "9.. A little low.." Shadow whispered to herself and slowly and without moving her head, adjusted her rear iron sight with her right hand ever so gently and replaced her hand on her pistol grip.

Shadow again, exhaled slowly and waited for her breath to escape again, slowly she began to feel her heart beat and waited.. Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump- And she gently squeezed her trigger firing her second shot. She took in another breath and examined the target. "8. Close enough for a good group." She muttered to herself and took in another breath. She exhaled and repeated the process, waiting between breaths and heartbeats to fire. "7.", "6.", "5.", "4.", "3.", "2.", "1." and she fired her last round causing her bolt to lock open. She pressed the mag release dropping the mag out of the mag well and inspected the breach to make sure there wasn't a round still in. "Clear!" She yelled and grabbed her empty magazine before standing up. She pulled the sling over her and let it hang freely on her chest then pulled out a pair of binoculars to inspect the target. "Nine rounds slightly down and to the left in a group of about two inches apart, the tenth is.. Four inches down. I'd say modest, not great but not bad." She said and set the binoculars down.

[Rynagria]

"Eh, Seven Hundred Meters........... With the 14.5-inch barrel I'm using right now, that's just about a hundred meters out of my effective range..... I could try to use semi-automatic, but the others will think I'm cheating........... Screw it, I'm doing whatever the hell I want!" Muttered HVLAR, raising her right hand into the air, but bringing it down just as quick with her hand into a fist in front if her face. Pumped up, HVLAR swapped out her current barrel with a 16-inch barrel, then sighting her first target.

"Here I go!" Announced HVLAR quietly, as she flicked the selector off safe and on to semi-automatic, flipping it ninety degrees. Next, she pulled the trigger gently, as she started the process of ranging the target.

The first round just managed to graze the lower left of the first target, so in response, HVLAR adjusted her sights and then aimed at the center once more. Second round sent, the 5.56 bullet struck the target just slightly below the center, finding it was satisfactory enough for her. Her aim true, HVLAR proceeded to once again flick the fire selector to the full-auto setting and fired an eight round burst at the target, all of them peppering the target. Further satisfied of the sight, "Hevlar" moved on to the next target and did the same, except this time, she allowed herself to fire a twenty round burst from the 90-round magazine she currently used with mostly the results as the previous target except it had more holes that the previous one. The last target, by the end, only contained half of it, since she emptied the rest of her magazine into the target, sixty rounds in total.

"Overkill? Maybe, but the grouping I had on the first one ranged about 4-6 inch grouping........ Not bad."

[Occupied Deutschland]

Samfopal yawned slightly, not bothering to cover her mouth and instead shuffling off to the side so the assault rifle teacher wouldn't notice her. She'd practiced already after all. While maybe not impressive, she knew 'her' target was more than passing. Sure it might not be as good as some of the other assault rifles, but it was good enough. If she really put in an effort she could probably compete with them, but passing was all she needed so she wasn't going to get bent out of shape over it.

Successfully having removed herself from the firing line for assault rifles and the watchful eye of the teacher, not to mention the headmaster as well, Samfopal turned and hurried off to watch the battle rifles practice.

Since nobody stepped up, Shadow decided to fire first and stepped up to the firing line. She crouched down then laid down to on her stomach. She slid in one of her magazines and pulled back on the charging handle and finished with pressing the bolt release, leading the first of her ten rounds into the chamber. She pressed her right cheek against her cheek rest and closed her left eye, staring through the small hole of her rear iron sights with her right, lining it up with the front sight. She flicked her selector switch forward turning it from fully automatic to semi-automatic. She breathed slowly, and as she exhaled with the last of her breath escaping her body she pulled the trigger and fired her first shot, then slowly took in another breath as she examined the target. "9.. A little low.." Shadow whispered to herself and slowly and without moving her head, adjusted her rear iron sight with her right hand ever so gently and replaced her hand on her pistol grip.

Shadow again, exhaled slowly and waited for her breath to escape again, slowly she began to feel her heart beat and waited.. Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump- And she gently squeezed her trigger firing her second shot. She took in another breath and examined the target. "8. Close enough for a good group." She muttered to herself and took in another breath. She exhaled and repeated the process, waiting between breaths and heartbeats to fire. "7.", "6.", "5.", "4.", "3.", "2.", "1." and she fired her last round causing her bolt to lock open. She pressed the mag release dropping the mag out of the mag well and inspected the breach to make sure there wasn't a round still in. "Clear!" She yelled and grabbed her empty magazine before standing up. She pulled the sling over her and let it hang freely on her chest then pulled out a pair of binoculars to inspect the target. "Nine rounds slightly down and to the left in a group of about two inches apart, the tenth is.. Four inches down. I'd say modest, not great but not bad." She said and set the binoculars down.

"Not bad? That's great!" Samfopal said from behind the SCAR-H, squinting at the far-off target for a moment before snatching up the binoculars. She had a moment of difficulty trying to wrap the cord around her hair and head, and settled on just holding them in front of her freely.

"You realize that thing's like, seven-hundred meters out don't you? To get all ten shots within four inches of each other at the outside? That's like..." She fell silent for a long moment, juggling her more familiar meters and the American's insufferable yard measurements in her head for a moment. Finally with a heavy sigh and a flip of her head she gave up any kind of precise conversion of it and just estimated. A meter was a bit more than a yard, and the Americans pegged one inch groups at a hundred yards as MOA, so...

"That's like sub-M-O-A, with iron sights! That's wicked cool! To je velmi úžasné!" Samfopal sputtered, the accent once again arising to make 'wicked cool' sound completely out of place before she drifted into Czech entirely. She blushed slightly, as if just realizing she'd burst onto the scene, and set the binoculars down carefully with an apologetic glance at Shadow.

[Volvek]

The sudden outburst of energy and amazement rather startled Shadow. Typically weapons like her were laid back and not easy to please so they were typically quiet. Not that she really cared about impressing anybody, it rarely worked so she figured why do it. Shadow turned to where the energy was coming from and saw a.. A Russian assault rifle? No.. The accent she had wasn't Russian.. This spiked Shadow's curiosity. "Thank you. I appreciate that." She said to the girl and smiled while ruffling her hair with her gloved hand trying to avoid the.. Animal ears? This girl was incredibly interesting to say the least, "Who are you, little one?" Shadow asked gently, almost motherly.

[Occupied Deutschland]

"I'm not Russian!" Samfopal immediately responded, taking a slight step back and bringing a hand up to readjust her hair so it hid the ears. "I know I've got the ears, that always throws people off, but I'm really not Russian! I'm Czechoslovakian!" she paused for a moment, looking to the side, "Or well, I guess I was Czechoslovakian and now I'm Czech and Slovakian both, it's a bit weird having two nationalities..."

Samfopal shook her head and looked back at the SCAR. NATO rifles were so cool!

"I'm Samfopal Vzor 58." She finally answered, "You can call me Sammy." She went on, smiling at the older girl, realizing her Czech name wasn't the easiest for Westerners to say.

"What about you? You're SCAR right? Aren't you the one they use in special-ops and stuff like that?"

[Volvek]

"I'm sorry young one, I didn't mean to offend. Please forgive me." Shadow bowed her head in respect as she spoke with sorrow in her tone. She didn't harbor any hatred for any other weapon system like maybe the Cold War rifles. Shadow smiled again when she told her her name, "It's a pleasure to meet you Sammy. Indeed, I am SCAR-H and I am used by special forces units. I first served in the Middle East with the United States 75th Ranger Regiment and used by numerable other units like U.S. Navy SEALs." Shadow said, partially with a bragging tone. She never got to brag about herself since usually the others in her grade don't really care. "But you can call me Shadow." She smiled and held out her hand.

[Occupied Deutschland]

"Wow." 'Sammy' said, taking the other girl's hand while her eyes beamed. "Awesome-sauce." Once again, it was quite obvious Samfopal wasn't comfortable with the expression.

"Oh piddle, there's nothing to forgive, Shadow." She said, ears perking up slightly and exposing themselves from the mass of hair she usually carefully combed over them. "It's not like you said anything. I'm just very used to being mistaken for someone I'm not. I have to correct people usually." Samfopal frowned for a moment and glanced back towards the assault rifle range.

"I remember Iraqi Security Forces talking about you a fair bit from my time over there." She said, returning her gaze to Shadow and looking up at the slightly taller girl with wide, impressed eyes. Samfopal leaned in slightly towards Shadow, dropping her voice, "They were jealous, and I can see why." Sammy flicked her eyes to the rifle hanging from Shadow's chest, then to the target she'd been firing at.

[Volvek]

Just listening to Sammy made Shadow smile, and she couldn't stop because of how adorable she was. She had never heard such praise before. "I like you Sammy. If you ever need help with anything, anything at all. Just ask." Shadow said as her eyes slowly drifted from Sammy's face to her ears. "I like your ears too, want to know a secret?" Shadow asked the girl quietly and leaned down to her, "I've always wanted ears like that, they have a certain.. Look to them. That I've always admired." She finished and stood back up. "So, little Sammy." Shadow said and pulled her rifle off of her then pulled out the mag and locked the bolt back and checked the chamber to make sure it was empty. She then looked back at Sammy and smirked. "Want to hold it?" She asked.

[Occupied Deutschland]

Samfopal blushed, ears flicking downwards for a moment before returning to their extended, unhidden position. She still was a bit embarrassed of them, but it was the first time she'd heard something like that.

"C-Can I?" She asked, gaping slightly at the offer. She wasn't used to NATO rifles being quite so accepting of her. Even decades after the end of the Cold War, there usually seemed to be some rivalry between her and them. That or they just brushed her off and said she was annoying.

Not waiting for an answer, too scared it might be a joke or something, Samfopal shakily grabbed the rifle from Shadow. Checking to be sure it was unloaded herself, she ran one hand down the receiver and to the buttstock and the other forward to just in front of the magazine well.

"Bigger." She mumbled to herself, inwardly excited at holding the rifle in her hands. She wished she was chambered in a NATO round! The 7.62x39 chambering had done nothing but cause trouble for her ever since the 90s.

Careful to keep her finger far removed from the trigger and instead resting it on the receiver, Samfopal took a half-step forward so she'd be sure not to sweep Shadow and raised the SCAR to her shoulder. More than a half-century of practice on another arm entirely however saw her rather poorly positioning herself on the rifle. Her left-hand was sucked in far too close to the magazine-well, positioned where she'd normally hold her hand on her own rifle not on the longer SCAR. The slightly higher sight-base also saw her holding the rifle lower on her chest than would work well as she attempted to place her head closer to where it would be on her's. The muzzle drooped slightly as Samfopal struggled against the greater weight of the rifle and her own poor grip of it.

"Uh, Shadow, am I doing something wrong?"

[Volvek]

Shadow giggled at the expression on Sammy's face when she offered to let her hold her SCAR. "No young one, when you're handling a weapon for the first time you don't do anything wrong. You can only learn." Shadow said and walked around behind Sammy. "Your head is smaller than mine, so you have to raise the cheek rest." She said and reached her right arm around Sammy in a near half-hug and held one of the buttons on the stock and pulled up raising the cheek rest then pulled the rifle up more so the butt of the stock was pressed solid against Sammy's shoulder. "That'll help you aim down the sights. Now, as for your other hand, I usually have a grip-pod but since they make us practice with no attachments. A good way to stabilize your firing position.." Shadow said and had to rest her head against Sammy's back as she slowly moved Sammy's hand to against the magazine well and held it, Shadow blushed softly as she realized that her hand was on top of Sammy's, and her head was against her back. "Hold it by the magwell, the center of the rifle is where most of the weight is and use the magwell to press the rifle into your shoulder." She finished, still blushing.

[Zepplien]

"I serve glorious union." Avto murmured as she rolled face down into the water, continuing to breathe just fine as her ears followed her roommate around seemingly of their own accord. She then made bubbles in the water and rolled onto the side of the tub, then promptly rolled out after her roommate left, landing with a wet splat on the tiles. She was finally awake as she groaned slightly at the feeling of the impact, but quickly stood up, and walked towards the door. She opened it and looked around the messy dorm, grabbing one of the scones to eat as she dripped water everywhere. Like her young sister she saw no point as to cleaning everything, they were AKs after all, AKs would keep firing regardless of any mess, and would never jam. She stuffed the other scone into her mouth, then promptly stripped out of the bathing suit she wore to sleep in, and changed into the more professional wetsuit, before looking at herself in the mirror, her thin features only because of her extreme height thanks to the length of her round. She was taller than pretty much anyone other than the most heavy duty anti tank rifles. She looked at the time and sighed slightly murmuring "Trouble never comes alone..." remembering the mandatory practice, so she could be tired and have a smooth bore barrel at the same time. She would be lucky if she could hit the broadside of a battleship, even underwater, with the hydrodynamic properties that made her even slightly accurate. She grabbed her bag full of full water bottles, pulling one out to sip on as she ran off toward class.

"Apple trees and pear trees were a flower," she kicked through a puddle as she sang "River mist was rising all around, young Katusha went strolling by the hour, On the steep banks, or the rocky ground. By the river's bank she sang a love song, of her hero in a distant land." she kicked through another puddle and took a large sip of her water, looking around at the Bourgeoisie buildings and the statues to heroes long gone. She heard the firing line and ran over to it, trying to blend into the background as she emptied her first bottle of water and cracked open another bottle, looking at the Czech girl mainly, murmuring "Dirty Czech." crossing her arms as she glared at the representative of one of the few eastern bloc nations that had no use for an underwater rifle.

[Stormhound]

"... Seven.... seven hundred meters?" mumbled the Winchester Model 1300, almost in disbelief. The shotgun suddenly became self-conscious about her far-sightedness, and looked around nervously in the hopes that no one noticed her hesitation. "On second thought..." she mumbled incoherently, putting her gun away and attempting to creep back until she was no longer in position.

Sighing in disappointment, 1300 felt like her pride had been stung, before remembering that she was not built for long ranges. Still. She felt useless for barely being able to even see the target. It was a mere blurr in her line of sight.

Looking around for anyone to hassle, 1300 settled on Shadow and Sammy. "What are you two doing?" she asked, feeling like a stalker for randomly picking them out and talking to them.

[Occupied Deutschland]

*snip*

"Oh, that is much better." Samfopal said, shifting her shoulders slightly to get a more comfortable position against Shadow. The muzzle rose back up as she, with the help of Shadow's hands, got a much more solid grip on the heavier rifle. Grip corrected and stock brought to a more correct position, Samfopal stared much more easily into the sights, getting lost in admiring the differences between those she was used to and the ones on the SCAR.

She was halfway tempted to rack the charging handle, just to see how different the sensation was when she wasn't dragging the entire upper portion of a receiver along with it. But...

...
Looking around for anyone to hassle, 1300 settled on Shadow and Sammy. "What are you two doing?" she asked, feeling like a stalker for randomly picking them out and talking to them.

Samfopal jerked slightly at the question, and slowly pivoted her neck while maintaining her same position towards the other girl.

"Uhh..." She began, only then realizing the somewhat compromising position she had somehow gotten into.

"Experimenting?" She finally squeezed out, only to too-late realize the rather poor choice of words.

[Stormhound]

Coming to premature conclusions, 1300 turned to face Shadow, looking like she had just been punched in the face. "You sick, twisted, perverted bastard!" she accused. Anxiously, she turned to face Sammy again. "Did the mean girl touch you? Was it good touch or bad touch? Has she done it before?" the shotgun asked a load of questions, and glared at Shadow.

[Yalos]

Dven pumped away with her gun, clip, after clip, after clip, after clip, bullet casings jingling satisfactorially on the dust below. Her eyes narrowed in concentration, Dven's weight was shifted just ever so slightly forward, resisting her own recoil with the stock pressed up to her cheek. This was the stance of a true riflemaiden. Obviously well trained and well bred, Dven's bullets consistently hit their marks, with no mistake tolerated on her part. Dven had so much to prove and a legacy to uphold. She couldn't afford careless mistakes, not while the whole world was watching her, eagle eyes almost lustful to see the AK-12 prove her incompetence. Such was Dven's unending plight, which never seemed to ameliorate. Steadfast and confident in her shooting, she didn't even notice her older sisters arrive, and was completely focused on her shooting until she began to hear the unmistakable sounds of raised voices and contentious attitudes.

Turning her head ever so slightly to the right, Dven allowed her curiosity to get the better of herself, and she began to pace towards rhe source of the conflict, intruiged by what was going on. Apparently, 1300 was upset, but about what? Dven couldn't see any incrimminating signs of a misfied bullet or malicious prank. In short, she wasn't able to understand what the argument was about.

"Excuse me." She spoke up rather softly, but still loudly enough to be heard. "Why are you yelling, 1300? Did somebody hurt you?" She asked, a morsel of concern leaking out into her voice. "Why are you yelling at Shadow? Did she hit you?"

She smiled, trulying her best to mediate the situation that she personally didn't understand and really had no business trying to fix.

"If that's the case, I'm sure she didn't mean to." Dven declared, "I'm certain that this must've been a simple accident and I have some candy if it'll make you feel better." Dven blushed and reached into her bag for some Hi-Chew

[Rynagria]

Coming to premature conclusions, 1300 turned to face Shadow, looking like she had just been punched in the face. "You sick, twisted, perverted bastard!" she accused. Anxiously, she turned to face Sammy again. "Did the mean girl touch you? Was it good touch or bad touch? Has she done it before?" the shotgun asked a load of questions, and glared at Shadow.

"Oi, Middle Schooler, calm it down." Jumped in HVLAR without warning, talking to 1300., after getting bored from shooting the targets over and over gone, on her eyes filled murderous intent. She hasn't gotten herself out yet, as she didn't feel the needed to, feeling no threat.

"As for you Cat Ears, promiscuous activities are prohibited or at least d it somewhere private, so give back that rifle to "Scar" now." HVLAR ordered the shotgun and assault rifle, glaring at both of them.

[Yalos]

"Promiscous...promiscous..?"

Dven didn't quite understand. Was 1300 mad because of some sort of sexual abuse? What was going on? For such a supposedly well trained and education rifle, Ak-12 was sverely limited in her knowledge of sexual...depravity, and her innocent sef simply shook it off, finding the best in this situation-as always.

"Are you sure they were involved in promiscous activity?" Dven asked, quite innocuously. "It just looks like Shadow-chan was giving Sammy a shooting lesson...there's bothing wrong with that, is there?"

Dven's head began to quite legitimately hurt. Her youthful innocence couldn't grasp the true brevity of the entire situation at hand, and she began to breathe heavily and knead her temples in anxiety. Her small lungs worked hard to pump air in and out quickly enough to help her process the true extent of the sexuality in this situation.

I'm so confused..., she wailed internally.

[Occupied Deutschland]

"Oi, Middle Schooler, calm it down." Jumped in HVLAR without warning, talking to 1300., after getting bored from shooting the targets over and over gone, on her eyes filled murderous intent. She hasn't gotten herself out yet, as she didn't feel the needed to, feeling no threat.

"As for you Cat Ears, promiscuous activities are prohibited or at least d it somewhere private, so give back that rifle to "Scar" now." HVLAR ordered the shotgun and assault rifle, glaring at both of them.

"What? But I wasn't...We weren't..Not that she isn't...What's wrong with...Did you just call me 'Cat Ears'?" Samfopal frowned, first at HVLAR and then at 1300, things having suddenly gone quite downhill quite quickly. Samfopal's ears folded down against her head as she dejectedly returned the rifle to Shadow.

"Some other time, maybe?" She said, then focused her ire back on HVLAR.

"I've got a name you know! Besides, she's got it right for a change." She added, jerking a thumb at Dven-Kalash, "I was just..."

Samfopal paused and glanced at the ground, "I was just curious what a NATO rifle was like..."

[Rynagria]

"Promiscous...promiscous..?"

Dven didn't quite understand. Was 1300 mad because of some sort of sexual abuse? What was going on? For such a supposedly well trained and education rifle, Ak-12 was sverely limited in her knowledge of sexual...depravity, and her innocent sef simply shook it off, finding the best in this situation-as always.

"Are you sure they were involved in promiscous activity?" Dven asked, quite innocuously. "It just looks like Shadow-chan was giving Sammy a shooting lesson...there's bothing wrong with that, is there?"

Dven's head began to quite legitimately hurt. Her youthful innocence couldn't grasp the true brevity of the entire situation at hand, and she began to breathe heavily and knead her temples in anxiety. Her small lungs worked hard to pump air in and out quickly enough to help her process the true extent of the sexuality in this situation.

I'm so confused..., she wailed internally.

HVLAR turned to Dven, her hands on her, the same murderous glare still in her eyes. "Think about it like this, Vz. 58 here is holding SCAR, and she's effectively holding that very same body of Scar we see now.......... Now let's say this, what if Vz. 58 stripped down SCAR-H to her parts, that's the same stripping Scar to her undergarments or naked." Explained HVLAR.

"I have no objections to their actions, except that they should take it elsewhere, rather than here. Another thing I have found unpleasant, is that they have the nerve to do it early in this morning." Added HVLAR, looking back at Sammy, just before flexing her right hand and then placing back on her hip.

"Anymore questions Middle Schooler?" Asked the light machine gun.

"Oi, Middle Schooler, calm it down." Jumped in HVLAR without warning, talking to 1300., after getting bored from shooting the targets over and over gone, on her eyes filled murderous intent. She hasn't gotten herself out yet, as she didn't feel the needed to, feeling no threat.

"As for you Cat Ears, promiscuous activities are prohibited or at least d it somewhere private, so give back that rifle to "Scar" now." HVLAR ordered the shotgun and assault rifle, glaring at both of them.

"What? But I wasn't...We weren't..Not that she isn't...What's wrong with...Did you just call me 'Cat Ears'?" Samfopal frowned, first at HVLAR and then at 1300, things having suddenly gone quite downhill quite quickly. Samfopal's ears folded down against her head as she dejectedly returned the rifle to Shadow.

"Some other time, maybe?" She said, then focused her ire back on HVLAR.

"I've got a name you know! Besides, she's got it right for a change." She added, jerking a thumb at Dven-Kalash, "I was just..."

Samfopal paused and glanced at the ground, "I was just curious what a NATO rifle was like..."

"Read up on them in the library, there's a reason we have books about history, it'll tell you a bunch of information." Responded HVLAR in a serious tone, as she reached behind her back with her left hand, pulling out herself, but not quite aiming at anybody, instead letting it hang down from her arm.

"Anymore problems you going to complain about?"

[Volvek]

Shadow smiled as Sammy held the SCAR as if she herself used one similarly to Shadow. "Attah girl." She said then another girl came out of nowhere and asked what they were doing. Shadow was about to answer but then Sammy responded first with "Experimenting?". While Shadow would have used a different word it was basically what was happening. Innocent experimentation with a different weapon system. Then the new girl started calling her a pervert.. And started speaking as if she had been 'touching' little Sammy. Shadows smile had quickly disappeared and replaced with a frown.

Then HVLAR jumped in and started bossing Sammy around. Shadow jumped up and pulled Sammy behind her. "Leave. Her. Alone." Shadow said firmly then looked at HVLAR. "You can stop being a big bad bully. Alright? She's not touching you. She's not bothering anybody. So why don't you just mind your own damn business?" Shadow said as she crossed her arms across her chest rig.

[Stormhound]

1300 listened to everyone speaking, suddenly confused. "What? Who? Why? How?" she sighed, giving up trying to find answers. "Well, this conversation has turned embarassing fast." she noted, hands behind her head, unintentionally pushing out her chest. "Uh, yeah, leave her alone. I think. Yeah."

[Volvek]

Shadows glare quickly shot over at 1300. "You. You are no better. If you hadn't been yelling at us after assuming an absolutely wrong assessment and jumping to conclusions, none of this would have come to pass." She said with a hateful passion, her glare increasing in frustration.