fandomhigh | What NOT To Do In A Fight / Wednesday, Period III / Week 3

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fighting

What NOT To Do In A Fight / Wednesday, Period III / Week 3

After ~~handwavily~~ informing class to dress in clothing they didn’t mind getting dirty and to meet up in the danger shop, they were greeted by the most awesome of all things:

Paintball. Enough paintball guns of different sizes and shapes for everyone to have two, even.

"Now, we have a couple things to cover, since most people seem to learn how to use firearms from television and not actual instruction," Ghanima said. "Such as there is no such thing as a bottomless magazine - you always need to reload - and it's nearly impossible to walk, let alone run and fire a weapon with any accuracy. Learn poison instead," Ghanima suggested. "...Which is not this class."

Yet. Sadly.

"Holding your gun sideways does nothing but throw off your aim unless you’ve spent all your time practicing it just like that. If you have been practicing that, there are better things you should be spending your time on." Not that Ghanima was biased or anything, except that she was. "And unless you’re not firing real guns or have the right amount of upper body strength to deal with the Mexican stand off that will come from it, don’t use two guns at once. It merely doubles your chances of missing entirely or causing collateral damage."

"Not to mention the sheer number of movies that teach you people how to use firearms fails gun safety forever," she continued. "And you cannot just 'aim to wound' or blast a gun out of someone's hand without injuring them. There's also no such thing as a flesh wound in real life. There's no 'safe' place to shoot a person, not even in a seemingly non-vital extremity like a leg or arm. So don't try it, you'll just feel guilty when you fail."

"So today, you get to have fun and not worry about any of that, or you can try and practice proper firing techniques." With one smooth motion, Ghanima pulled a small paintgun from the sleeve of her tunic and fired a pink, glittery round at a student. "All guns are already loaded, because you should always assume a weapon is loaded. Begin."

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Go forth, into the Danger Shop generated abandoned warehouses, and have a gunslinging battle for the ages!

You want to know where Rhys was? Rhys was clutching his paintball gun (not even a known brand, ugh) to his chest and hoping people would forget he was there.

And hiding. Mostly hiding. Look, he knew his odds in a firefight were slim. Let's not pretend otherwise.

Tip found him, but only because she was also focused on hiding instead of attacking.

"Oh. Hey." She held up her hands, paintball gun aimed firmly away from anything sentient. "Um. . . . You okay?"

He did not look okay. But most of that was stuff that didn't look okay on a regular basis, so it was hard to tell.

"Have you seen our classmates?" Rhys asked. He was really glad he had his arm back for this.

"Well yeah." Be nice, Tip. "They're not eight feet tall killer aliens, though, so." She shrugged. "Not a fan of paintball, huh?"

"Aha ha. Ha, not really no. I'm not a fan of getting shot at with anything. Or stabbed. Or getting a concussion," Rhys replied, trying to decide if she looked like a vault hunter there. Because that also described Eridians. "I worked in an office. Not a warzone."

Sort of debatable with Hyperion.

"They have offices in war zones," Tip pointed out. "And in my experience fighting kind of just tends to happen around you, even if you're not looking for it." Her experience involved violent colonialism and a culture's first attempt at a democratic election, so it might not be as universal as she thought it was. She smiled ruefully. "Of course, I only found you because I'm hiding, too, so I can't really talk."

Rhys gave her a moderately suspicious look, trying not to think of Sasha for a moment before hunching his shoulders and keeping an eye out for anyone else who might shoot at them.

"Isn't that the truth," he muttered. "I'm Rhys."

It was knly polite. Since he'd never actually talked to her.

"Gratuity." Tip offered him the hand not holding a paintball gun. The gun she kept pointed up at the sky. "Nice to meet you."

Rhys offered the creepy ass Terminator looking hand in response. He really needed to do a less low rent looking version and soon.

"So, um. What aliens were you talking about?" he asked, trying to play it cool. So cool. Ice cold.

That -- was a hell of a hand. Tip blinked once, but shook it smoothly otherwise. Her best friend looked like a reinflated frog and one of her pets was a tiny robot that communicated via bubble, after all.

"The Gorg?" she said, not expecting him to recognize them. "Pretty much no one around here has ever heard of them, but they tried to take over my earth, wipe out all the cats, abduct humans as slaves, and then literally eat the planet."

And they were eight feet tall and built like they communicated via punching.

Because they did.

He had a tiny robot too! It sounded like demonic nails on an evil chalkboard. It was adorable.

"Oh!" He looked way too relieved about that. "That's horrible."

And yet he was so glad she wasn't a vault hunter who might shoot him in the face.

Maybe their robots could be friends! Could Rhys's robot understand written Boov? Bill didn't have a voicebox.

"You know it's the weirdest thing," Tip said, eyebrow raised. "You almost look happy about it."

Dumpy was an Atlas bot, so it was mostly just a wonder it still functioned.

"I thought you were from Pandora. Thank god, right?"

"I'm guessing you don't mean an ancient Greek box."

That was some high brow thinking there, Tip. Wrong canon for that.

"Uh, no. It's a murder planet."

Tip blinked harder at that than at the robot hand.

"Why would anyone ever go there?"

"Money." Wasn't that always the reason for these things?

That or "resources" in general, really.

". . . People suck."

By 'people', of course, she meant 'sentient beings'. Sometimes she thought J.Lo was right, and they really were all glitches.

Yeah, distinct Sasha vibes still.

Rhys coughed awkwardly. Because he was totally one of those people. Then again, so was everyone on that crapsack planet and anything orbiting it. "Never go there and you should be fine. And if anyone mentions a vault, run the other way."

"You know there are a lot of vaults out there in the world, right?" Tip asked. "So how'd you end up in Fandom, then? Instead of --" on a murder planet "-- in your office?"

Yeah, but there are vaults and there are vaults. Ignore how they also factor into some other video game franchises.

Damn it, 2K.

"I woke up at the airport after, uh, passing out." Possibly dying. Since there was a New-U station there and all.

"And you just wandered onto the first shuttle you could find?"

"Yeah?" It wasn't the ruins of Helios and he wasn't being attacked. It seemed like a good idea at the time.

But, this being Rhys, it wasn't. Try to keep from being shocked.

". . . well okay then."

What else was she supposed to say to that?

"At least you managed to find a place that only gets attacked semi-regularly, instead of, like, a murder island."

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