Dry Fire [Susan & Eryka]

The work never stopped, it was ceaseless. There was always something new to tackle and if not, to be improved. But this was alright with Susan. It kept her occupied and satisfied. She could not fathom how some people could stand to not do anything productive all day, it would drive her crazy if she did not accomplish what she set out to do. But that was a deadly trap to get into. It meant that she would continue to take on tasks and eventually these would overwhelm her but she would do her best to desperately accomplish them. Such a task was the nightly patrol, which she had made a point to begin taking care of. Through putting the new recruits through their paces and working with her team she could prove herself as dependable, hopefully being able to get into a rhythm of conduct where she could conduct strategy more freely without dealing with dissenters as she had with Terui the other evening.

Ahh yes. Terui. What an incorrigible mockery to the force. To call him a peer was insulting. But if given the opportunity she would mold him into a functioning member of the Cadets. Or get him removed from Class Zero, one of the two. As much as she was content with studying her maps and planning routes for patrol as well as studying demonic behavior during the Full Moon these vexing thoughts wormed her way into her brain and she found herself packing her things and getting physically ready and accustomed for combat a little early. Team assignments had already been sent out with request for approval to her superiors, which she assumed there would be none. With her vest on and her equipment in her briefcase she headed to the firing range underneath the Class Zero annex building.


It was dark and musty at the range, the fluorescent lights humming in protest as a loud THOCK illuminated the long concrete sight lines and the hum of the target engine began to wind up. But most importantly save for the background noise it was quiet. She could work on her marksmanship in peace and steel herself for combat, wiping away nervous habits as she would empty magazine after magazine into paper targets in preparation for the real thing. She set her briefcase on one of the firing benches and pulled her P90 from it, setting it on the firing table as she methodically began to thumb bullets into the magazines of her weapon.

Inside the firing range, with noise cancelling headphones over her ears, was Eryka. She was standing above a table, her weapon resting atop it disassembled. Using a different prosthetic (basically not her soul bound capable one) than she normally had, Eryka got was cleaning the interior of her gun out. Using a brush commonly associated with dusting for fingerprints Eryka cleaned dirt and muck out from inside her guns firing chamber. She could not risk the weapon jamming during an important moment.

It took her a good ten minutes to finish cleaning the weapon out and once done, she reassembled it sliding all the parts back into their respective places. Slinging the weapon over her shoulder, go bless straps, Eryka marched to the firing range loading dummy rounds into the weapon.

"Firing!" She would shout before waiting five minutes to allow people to wear ear protection and then began firing. Bullets barked from the barrel of her weapon, tearing down the firing lane and ripping into the target; said target was amusingly a picture of a generic demon not that Eryka found any amusement in such a thing.