Top Ten

“Hey Maksim, look,” said Ethan. I turned my head.
“Eh? What’s the matter, Ethan?” I asked, stepping towards him.
Ethan had a weapons crate before him, and from it he lifted an M392 Bandit, although this one had an optic. “The pagans shall quake, Nestorenko,” said the fellow captain with a certain smug confidence.
“Congratulations, you have found a DMR,” I said sarcastically.
“No, no, no, it’s not just a DMR. It’s a Bandit… with an optic!”
Ethan held it before me in awe. I simply stared, unimpressed. “Yes…” I said, drawing out the word, nodding my head.
“I can see you’re unimpressed, but fear not! I was one of the top ten marksmen of my unit when I finished boot camp back on Reach.” Ethan went to the firing range, with me not far behind him, and he loaded the weapon. He stood behind the line, and the both of us equipped ear and eye protection. He disengaged the safety, pulled back the charging handle and aimed downrange. Then, Ethan fired a single shot. Then another. And another. After three shots, he lowered the rifle to an at-ready position, and turned his head. “Ah, the kick’s familiar! Fucking sights are working like a beauty!” He fired some more shots downrange until the gun ran empty. Once he went dry, Ethan pulled out the magazine, and used his index and middle finger to push back the opened bolt. “Weapon clear!” he yelled. Then, he cradled the rifle in his hands. “Fucking thing is a beauty.”
“You know, I’ll take your word on that,” I said.
“Heh, what’s wrong, Maksim? Still longing for those BR33s?”
“I guess you could say that. I was very much used to a three-round burst when I was younger.”
“I keep forgetting you’ve been in the service since the 20s. I guess cryo really does keep you young.”
“But you still miss some time when you’re in ice.”
“Yeah…”
Ethan looked down at the rifle. He had a grin, but I could sense a certain pain in that ‘yeah’ he uttered. I pressed no further.
“Hey, you seem to be growing fond of that Bandit of yours.”
“No doubt!”
Ethan brought his gaze back up to me, his face beaming with joy. His was an infectious smile, and I contracted that same grin of his, nodding in approval. “So, is the recoil still like the DMR?”
“Yeah, but the optic really helps to keep my shots on target. I mean, look!” Ethan pressed a button on the range shelf, and brought the paper target back towards us. I looked at it, and noticed that virtually all of his shots were center-mass, clustered close together.
“I guess you were right for once, Ethan,” I said. He looked at me confusedly. “You really were top ten back on Reach.”
Category:The Weekly