Be Gay Do Crime

Ashe loaded ammunition into the magazine slowly, her focus more on the tense conversation happening across the range.  Crystal brought her own rifle, a simple AR platform that Ashe hadn’t gotten the branding of just yet, while her parents both brought their SIG M400s.  That was her mom’s preferred weapon when deploying with the SWAT team, the familiarity of it lending her to purchase one for civilian use.

She couldn’t hear their hushed conversations, especially over the sounds of the other’s on the range firing off shots, but Ashe could tell from Crystal’s expression that it wasn’t the most pleasant of fare.  At least the range itself was outdoors, just out past Chiefland with nothing but swamps behind it.  The owner even had a near forty foot hill of sand set up as a backdrop for safety.

Still, they were there to shoot and bond and whatever else came up, and somehow Ashe got stuck loading all the magazines.  Given that she only had the magazine that came with her rifle, she ended up buying two more from the range’s store just so she wouldn’t need to stop as often to refill them. 

The others didn’t have that problem, having brought enough magazines of their own to shoot for a while.  She trusted Crystal to avoid speaking about her after school activities beyond what they knew, but there was always that worry that something they didn’t anticipate would come out during the conversation. 

Sighing, Ashe set the last magazine down beside her mother’s rifle and decided that they could pry Crystal for information later.  She pressed two fingers to her mouth and whistled sharply, drawing their attention as well as two others that were out on the range. 

“Everything’s ready,” she said, gesturing to the tables with the guns.  “Who wants to go first?” 

Her parents looked between one another, then gave Crystal a gentle nudge, much to her chagrin.  She scowled, looking back for a moment before sighing and walking back to the tables.  Ashe gave Crystal what she hoped was a reassuring smile as she stepped aside and let Crystal check her rifle and gather her things before stepping up to the firing line.  She put her spare magazines in the pockets of her tactical vest and double checked her rifle before slotting the first magazine in and chambering a round.

Down range, five targets were set up in a staggered ‘V’ pattern starting at one-fifty yards, it wasn’t anything impressive for range, but it would make for a good warm up before they moved on to the timed CQC course.  Ashe patted Crystal on the shoulder and wished her luck before stepping back to stand with her parents. 

“Have a good talk?” she asked as Crystal adjusted her sights following the first shot, then further adjusted it after the second.  She must have picked a spare rifle she didn’t usually use if she was having to sight it on the range. 

“Just the usual questions of parental concern,” her mother said, eyes on the range.  “I am slightly disappointed she’s having to sight her rifle, yet also impressed how quickly she managed to do so.” 

The fourth shot hit dead center and Crystal immediately moved to cycling through the targets, hitting each with ease.  Her first magazine dropped and she reloaded with practiced ease.  Her flowing blue hair danced with the breeze and recoil, despite the ball cap she wore over it.  Ashe was transfixed on the display, knowing that she wouldn’t even hope to match it with her own unfamiliar gun. 

The final round fired and Crystal did a quick check of her gun before calling the all clear and retrieving her magazines from where they fell.  She wiped her forehead, a light sheen of sweat smearing as she smiled back.  Ashe absently felt two fingers come under her chin and lift up. 

“Drool later,” her mom said.  “Time to show the kids how it’s done.” 

Ashe cringed as her mother swatted her mom on the ass while wishing her luck.  For as stoic and professional as the woman could be, she didn’t shy away from making sure everyone knew who her wife was.  Crystal set her rifle and magazines down on the table and joined Ashe and her mother. 

“Forgot to re-sight that one after my brother last shot it,” she said, grabbing a water bottle from their cooler.  “No idea what the hell he sighted it for though.” 

“Your brother was the guy on stage with you, right?” Ashe asked. 

Crystal winced, coughing on her drink for a moment before Mother’s firm hand swatted her on the back. 

“Thanks,” she muttered.  “Yeah.  My little brother is stuck living under his roof for another year.  It’s part of why I haven’t moved away, my donor likes to use him to keep me close.” 

“That’s shit,” Mother said.  “He isn’t being abused, is he?  We might be able to do something if he is.” 

“Not physically,” Crystal said.  “He’s a manipulative fuckstick, but he knows better than to leave actual evidence.  The one time Jason recorded some of it and shared it, he was sent to a Christian camp for the summer.” 

Ashe’s fists clenched, one tighter than the other.  Her original foster family threatened to send her to one before she managed to slip a message to her caseworker that she wasn’t safe.  On the surface, it was a mundane summer camp, but Ashe had heard of the place from her birth mom to know better.  Even with that warning, they couldn’t act right then and she had to run away, ending up on the streets for a week.  That whole situation was what introduced Ashe to her now parents, as her Mother was the one to find her scavenging for food.

Completing a final check, her mom then demonstrated why she was the top marksman on her team, putting bullets down range at first with an ACOG then she switched the gun sideways for her offset iron sights.  Every cycle through the targets she switched, reloading without even pausing in her firing rate. 

By the end, even Crystal was clapping while letting out a low whistle.  

Ashe’s mom turned back, giving off serious Sarah Connor vibes as she did and smiled at her wife.  “Alright hon, your turn to show the kids how it’s done.” 

Her mother snorted.  “We both know I won’t be able to match that.  I was a marksman and never got to go out with the ground teams like you do.” 

“Excuses,” her mom said with a smirk.  “Now get that desk jockey ass of yours up to the firing line and try not to let the kids embarrass you.” 

“You realize I will get you back for this,” she said. 

Her mom just grinned.  “I’m counting on it.” 

Ashe proceeded to make gagging noises while Crystal laughed.  She was mostly kidding, as she was happy her parents had a healthy dynamic to their relationship.  Her mom planted a kiss on her mother’s cheek before she rejoined them, her eyes fixated on her wife. 

“It’s nice to see adults that actually like each other,” Crystal said softly.  “I never got that growing up.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” her mom replied.  “I know the arm candy he shows off at events isn’t your mother, but I couldn’t find anything else on her.” 

“He hires escorts for those events,” Crystal said.  “Blonde, fake tits, the usual that his voter base drools over.  They don’t even care that my mother committed suicide, at least officially, not that any of us could ever prove foul play.  She was ten years younger than him, the marriage was arranged the moment she turned eighteen.” 

Her voice hitched and she looked away. 

Thankfully her mother was too far to have heard that over the sounds of the range, but her mom wasn’t so lucky.  The curses coming out of her mouth were rather inventive, even if some were anatomically impossible. 

The retort of her mother’s rifle brought the tirade to an end and returned their attention to the range.  She took longer to line up the shots, matching Crystal’s speed if Ashe had to gauge it, but they weren’t recording to compare.  The final shot delivered, that meant it was her turn. 

Ashe checked the rifle to ensure it wasn’t loaded before she slung it over her shoulder, her mom joining her at the table to stow her own gear in accordance with the range rules.  She slipped two of the magazines into her pouches, then carried the third with her to the firing line before slotting it in and chambering the round. 

It took more effort than she expected, her injuries rearing up again.  Switching to being left handed was starting to appeal to her all the more.  She hefted the rifle up and lined up the sights, she knew some adjustments would be needed at first as she’d never fired it before.  She was sticking to the iron sights, not having time to decide on what she wanted to use with it. 

She took aim, and grimaced at how difficult pulling the trigger turned out to be.  The shot went high, missing the target completely.  Ashe adjusted things and tried again.  In the end, it took five shots to get the sights dialed in and she started running through the targets.  She was easily the slowest of the bunch, owing it to her weakened hand. 

When it came time to reload, she struggled with the angle, not having the luxury of time like she did for the initial load and she was unpracticed.  She now understood why so many militaries were moving away from bullpups, even if they were cool to shoot.  They did have advantages, but the struggles she was having on the reload only reinforced her resolve. 

Putting the idea to practice, she swapped hands after reloading, finding the feel to be rather different than she was used to.  Her eyes took a moment to process the difference of aiming with a different eye, then she pulled the trigger.

Recoil slammed into her shoulder, her footing all wrong to brace for it.  To rub salt in the wound, she had missed the target completely.  Gritting her teeth, Ashe continued to adjust her grip and stance until she found something that worked well enough, though she hadn’t switched which side the rounds were ejecting from.  When the final round expended, she fumbled with the magazine release.  Pulling the final magazine from its pouch, she almost dropped it with how weak her hand was. 

If Ashe was going to swap hands, she would have all new problems, not to mention having to completely re-learn her muscle memory.  Would it even be worth the time and effort?  She was going to need to drill so much anyway, but trading one set of problems for another wasn’t looking to be worth it. 

With a sigh, Ashe swapped back to a right handed grip and finished off her set.  One thing she was certain of, she needed to invest in some hair triggers for her guns, just to help offset the weakness in her hands.  She had humored the idea, but it just wasn’t feasible, not yet at least.  Maybe after a few years of training she could manage it.

Firing the last shot, Ashe knew that she wouldn’t be using the gun as an everyday weapon, she’d stick to an AR platform for that.  That didn’t mean she wouldn’t be using her bullpup around her parents.  It was prudent if she was going to start using anything bigger than a pistol in the field and would help distance her two identities further.  Worried about that, she set her TAR-21 down on the table, then turned back to the group. 

“Is it alright if I take some shots with my pistol before we move on?” 

Her parents glanced at one another and Mom shrugged.  “Make it quick, we did reserve the course and I don’t want to lose the deposit.” 

Nodding, Ashe returned to the firing line and drew her pistol from her holster and chambered a round.  She used a G26 as her everyday carry and it was a fair bit lighter than the Beretta she was starting to associate with her criminal persona.  Granted, the bigger gun certainly helped her appear more intimidating, or at least she hoped it did. 

Thankfully, she didn’t struggle to pull the trigger this time, instead it was the recoil that bit her.  That first shot almost tore the gun from her hand and she barely managed to avoid openly panicking about it.  Taking a moment, Ashe adjusted her grip and fired off another shot.  It was a bit awkward, but she managed to hit six of her ten shots even at that distance. 

Ashe returned to the table and ejected the magazine, fishing out a box of 9mm ammo she had brought with for that exact purpose.  She reloaded the magazine as everyone joined her at the table, taking inventory of their things.  The spent brass was swept to the side, where a bin was set in the ground for it. 

“Linda mentioned a CQC course,” Crystal said, stowing her rifle back in its bag.  She would break it back down for transport after they were done for the day.  “Will they let us use our own equipment?” 

“As long as it meets course standards,” her mom said.  “They also provide an AR and handgun for rental if your own equipment doesn’t meet those standards.” 

“Good to know,” Crystal said.  “Something tells me your own guns all qualify.” 

“They do,” her mother confirmed.  “We did come prepared, after all.” 

Ashe chuckled.  “It also helps that you come out to this range at least once a month, and that Mom held the record on the CQC course for two years running until some competition shooter strolled through town and showed everyone up.” 

“Lousy prick,” her mom muttered before throwing her hands into the air, her voice rising as she continued her rant.  “He’s some ass from Texas that likes to travel the country and try out any range with challenge runs or standing records.  That it only took him two runs to beat my record just makes it worse!” 

“You’ll get that record back,” her mother consoled, patting Mom on the shoulder.  “Now come on, let’s go get checked in.” 

Her mom nodded, carrying her bags with her as she walked ahead.  Crystal hung back a moment, her brow creased. 

“You alright?” 

“Not really,” Ashe admitted.  “My right hand is hella fucked.  I need to get some extended shooting practice in, see if that helps, but left handed firing is pretty much out as a stopgap solution.” 

Crystal smiled, nudging her shoulder.  “We can do that, I’ve got a few guns that are easy to swap to left handed configurations if you want to get some practice in.” 

“Thanks,” Ashe said, a genuine smirk tugging at her lips.  “You ready to get your ass kicked on this course?” 

“Not really,” Crystal admitted, looking at the adults who were being all kinds of cute with one another as they walked.  “Sickeningly sweet PDAs aside, your mom is a fucking nightmare with a gun.” 

“That she is,” Ashe agreed. 

It was half the reason Ashe was as good as she was, or rather, used to be.  Her mom pushed her to be able to take care of herself, and firearm training was a major component of that.  With her moving to handle things extra judicially, that training would certainly be put to the test, assuming she could work around her disability.  

She just hoped that she never found herself on the opposite end of one of her mom’s barrels.  There was no doubt in her mind what the outcome of that would end up being.  Sighing, Ashe slung her own bag over her shoulder and pushed those thoughts aside.  That would hopefully never happen, and dwelling on worst case scenarios wouldn’t help anyone. 

“Come on Crystal,” she said.  “We’d best catch up before they try to count it as a penalty against our time.” 

Crystal snorted, shaking her head as she followed along.  “Time to discover a whole new reason to fear Linda Hamilton.” 

“There is one bright side,” Ashe mused, fighting down her embarrassment. 

“Oh,” Crystal asked. 

“This is certainly better than any shotgun speech she could ever give you if we do end up dating.”  

Ashe hurried on ahead, her cheeks burning despite the grin on her face as she left a sputtering Crystal in her wake.

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