The gun shop Amy had sent them to was twenty minutes beyond the outskirts of the city, situated at the end of a long gravel drive marked by a NO THRU TRAFFIC sign.
When they arrived, there was only one other car in the tree-shaded lot. Picking a spot at random, Ryan parked the behemoth SUV. Or, rather, the vehicle's park assist neatly backed them between the spray-painted lines while he sat there and supervised the process.
Opening the air-conditioned Range Rover's door immediately let the sweltering afternoon heat rush in. The feeling was like being slapped in the face with a hot, wet towel.
Moving gingerly, Ryan lowered himself from the cab and masked a wince as his bandages tried to pull in three different directions at once.
"Are you okay?" Syd asked, her expression concerned.
He waved away her offered hand with a confident smile.
"I'll be fine," he said. "I've had way worse. A little scratch like this isn't going to slow me down."
Which was a bit of an exaggeration, but his side did seem to feel better today than it had yesterday. Either the wound was already healing, or he was getting used to it.
"We've got two hours or so to kill before Amy gets here," he told Syd as they walked over to the building. "Ready for more shopping?"
She nodded eagerly.
"I did some research while you were driving. Do you think they're going to have any Barrett M82s for sale? The site I was looking at said they were legal..."
He laughed, then gave her an affectionate pat on the shoulder.
"We're not getting you a .50 caliber anti-materiel rifle for your first gun, Syd."
"But my Agility score –"
"– won't make up for you having no idea what you're doing. This isn't a video game, Syd. Agility doesn't magically make your marksmanship better. Only practice can do that."
"Aww, come on!"
"Don't worry, I've got a pretty good idea for what to start you out on. Trust me, okay?"
"Fiiine." Placing her hands behind her back, she gave the gravel a petulant kick. "I guess you know a lot about this stuff, huh?"
"Well, I spent plenty of time out in the woods before... uh, you know. I wasn't an expert or anything, but I learned all the basics from my dad when I was a kid, and my college side job gave me a fair amount of experience." Ryan pushed the door open, then held it for her to walk through. "Although, if I start giving you lessons, Amy would probably insist on reteaching you how to do everything the right way afterwards, wouldn't she?"
"She definitely would," Syd agreed vehemently.
The store's interior was a time capsule from the late '70s. Facing the entrance, a stuffed and mounted brown bear reared up on its hind legs, jaws open wide to display a mouthful of jagged teeth. Wooden racks lined the walls, each holding a hodgepodge assortment of long arms marked with faded yellow price tags. The shelves between had been piled high with stacks of various gear and accessories. Most of the merchandise was obviously aimed at hunters, and few of the items looked new.
He doubted they would have anything too high-tech or exotic in stock, but for their current needs, that shouldn't be a problem.
A heavyset woman standing behind a long glass display case full of handguns eyed them suspiciously as they entered. Her short, iron-grey hair had been tucked up into a trucker cap with an antlered deer skull logo, and her attitude was decidedly unwelcoming. She crossed her beefy arms as they approached.
"Can I help y'all find something?"
"Um, we're friends of Sergeant Reid," Syd told her. "She said she would call ahead for us."
"Oh." The woman glanced down at the ancient-looking corded phone beside her. A post-it note was stuck onto the handset, covered in indecipherable scrawls. "Yep, she sure did." When her head came back up, the dour expression she was wearing had shifted to something approximating a smile. "So, what can I do for ya, folks?"
"Just looking for now, thanks," Ryan said.
Syd followed him down one of the aisles, watching with interest as he began combing through the objects on the shelves. If the shop's contents had been arranged according to any sort of organization system, it was one beyond the limits of his understanding. It was a good thing they had time to spare, he thought.
Curious, Ryan picked up what appeared to be a dagger in a rusty sheath, hanging on a peg from a black leather belt.
"That there's the bayonet for an 1891 Carcano," The store's owner informed him as he examined it. "Rifle's probably around here somewhere. Give ya ten bucks off if ya buy 'em both together!"
"Uh, no thanks, I think we're good."
After carefully returning the artifact (which was, apparently, old enough to predate the birth of his great-grandfather) to its peg, he moved on.
"Do we need this, Ryan?" Syd asked, offering him a duck call on a lanyard.
"...probably not."
She blew into it, laughing at the loud quacking sound it produced, then put it back.
"What about one of these?"
Ryan stared at the dusty clay trap thrower she was holding in both arms.
"I don't think so, Syd."
In spite of her determined help, he was eventually able to locate most of the items he wanted: fifteen-round cardboard boxes of shotgun slugs, foam earplugs, a spray bottle of off-brand CLP, a package of paper silhouette targets in various sizes and a hard plastic rifle case. Now we just need something to put inside it.
Without looking, Ryan's hand shot out, intercepting Syd's halfway between the shelf and her pocket.
"Put it back," he whispered to her.
"But I want it!" she hissed back, trying ineffectually to pull her wrist out of his grip.
"Syd, you don't even know what that is."
"Of course I do! It's, um..." She snuck a quick glance at the package in her hands. "...it's a 12 gauge bore snake. Obviously."
He blinked.
"Hm. We actually do need one of those. Rather than stealing, let's buy it, okay?"
"Ugh, so boring. No wonder Amy likes you."
Giving Syd a last glance that he hoped was stern enough, Ryan let her go and made his way over to the counter.
"I'm looking for a slug gun," he told the owner.
"Sure about that?" she asked, eyeing him up and down. "If it's somethin' ta keep under the bed, a carbine with a tac-light'll do ya better."
"Yeah, I'm sure. It's for, uh, hunting. Large game."
She hummed noncommittally.
"You're the boss. Lemme see what all we got." The woman puttered off in the direction of the racks, shaking her head. "City kids," she muttered to herself, once she thought she was out of earshot.
"One that's simple to operate," he called after her. "With a rifled barrel, rather than just the choke tube, if you have anything like that in stock."
After a bit of back-and-forth, they settled on a gently-used Mossberg 500 that met all of his criteria.
"Oooh," Syd said, standing on tiptoe so she could lean over the counter to admire the shotgun's matte-blued finish and synthetic black stock. "Is this for me, Ryan?"
"It will be, once –"
Tuning out whatever he'd been about to say next, she picked it up and peered through the sights.
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"Pew, pew!" She spun around in a circle with the gun still held at shoulder height. "Haha, I can't wait to three-sixty no-scope some fools!"
Ryan quickly pushed the barrel down to point at the floor.
"Okay, Syd, first rule: don't point a gun at anything you don't want to shoot." He gave the owner an apologetic glance as he took the shotgun out of her hands and returned it to the countertop. "We're going to cover range safety before we give her any ammo, I promise."
The stocky woman grunted.
Apparently undeterred, Syd strolled back to the glass display case and pointed at one of the handguns on the top shelf. Between the aftermarket metallic-purple grips and slide, the oversized reflex sight mounted on top, the long, ported barrel and the flashlight clamped underneath, it was hard for Ryan to guess what it had originally been.
"What's this?" Syd asked.
"Tarted-up Glock 19," the owner said with a derisive laugh. "Guy put a whole lotta money into it without a sign-off from the missus first. Ya know how it goes. We're holdin' it for him on consignment."
"How much?"
"Eight fifty." She sucked her teeth speculatively. "Tell ya what, for friends of Sergeant Reid – suppose we call it fourteen hundred for the lot?"
Syd looked over at Ryan expectantly. He sighed.
"We'll need a spare mag or two, and a couple boxes of 9mm JHP," he said. "Think you can throw that in?" When she reluctantly nodded, he added, "Plus time on the range?"
"No prob. I've gotta give ya the range safety course first, though, since ya'll ain't club members."
"Actually, that's perfect. Some of us could definitely use it."
Step-by-step, Ryan walked Syd through how to fill out the transfer forms. After she'd finished and their background checks had cleared, she paid the woman with an unmarked black credit card. It was a bargain price, but he still felt a little guilty about leaving her to pick up the bill.
Syd somehow sensed his reluctance, and she gave him a smile to indicate that it was okay. In spite of her moody, fickle temperament, he was beginning to realize that she could be surprisingly perceptive at times.
While the owner was distracted with wrapping up all their purchases, she murmured into his ear that he could pay her back with his body later, then grabbed a handful of his butt in passing.
Brat.
He'd remember that.
Their checkout complete, the owner led them through a back door into a concrete-floored break room with a single metal table. Another door on the far side had a big window that looked out over the tall dirt berms of the currently-empty range.
Setting the cases on the table, she proceeded to unbox both weapons with quick, practiced motions.
"Ya'll've got me for the rest of the day, 'less the phone rings or somebody else walks in. That happens, I'll be back soon as I can." She gave Syd a warning look. "No shooting 'till I'm done, y'hear?"
Syd nodded, watching in fascination as the woman ran through the basic operation of both guns. Location and function of the controls came first, then loading and unloading, how to clear malfunctions, and last a rudimentary explanation of the disassembly, cleaning and reassembly process. She went through every step twice, asking questions after each, just to make sure the girl was paying attention.
They both benefited from the instruction. For Ryan, the most recent time he'd handled a firearm of any kind was years ago. Syd, obviously, had only ever seen one on the other side of a screen....
...not that you'd know it from her quick responses. She seemed to commit every last thing she was told to memory, and had no problem repeating it all back verbatim.
Out of questions to ask Syd, the woman looked over her shoulder at him.
"Ya get all that?"
"Sure."
"Let's hear it, then."
Stepping up to the table, Ryan proceeded to demonstrate that he'd been paying attention too. Eventually, the woman finally decided that she was satisfied with their performance, and pronounced them ready to go.
Before they could step outside, however, the bell hanging from the front door jingled.
"Crap. Gimmie a sec, folks."
A few moments later, she returned with Amy in tow. The policewoman had changed into street clothes after the end of her shift, and was now dressed in casual straight-leg jeans and a loose-fitting t-shirt with the words METRO P.D. printed across the chest in big block letters. Patting Amy on the shoulder affectionately, the owner gave Ryan and Syd a wave before heading back into the store.
"Beth said that she finished reading you two the riot act already, so we can head out whenever." Amy said as she walked over to join them at the table. She looked down at their purchases, then raised a blonde eyebrow. "A pump-action Mossberg? Are you sure that was the best choice?"
Ryan glanced at the closed door behind them, ensuring that they had some privacy, then turned back to face Amy and Syd.
"You've both seen that War-Forms are pretty resistant to gunfire, right? The only way you can really hurt one with a firearm is by stacking up enough damage to overload their Changer and kick them out of their transformed state early. When it comes to that, kinetic energy transfer is the name of the game." He tapped one of the cartons of 12 gauge slugs. "These babies might be a little slow-moving, but they're big and heavy, so they'll transfer a heck of a lot of kinetic energy when they connect. You know, like the saying goes, would you rather get hit with a fast pebble, or a slow brick?"
"I suppose that makes sense," Amy said. "But if knockdown power is the goal, shouldn't we look at getting something even bigger, like an M82?"
"RIGHT? THAT'S WHAT I SAID!" Syd shouted excitedly.
Closing her eyes, Amy pinched her nose tiredly.
"...actually, I think I can see exactly why you decided to start her with something more manageable. Forget I asked."
"Oh, come on!"
"Looks like you already grabbed hearing protection, too. Good." Ignoring Syd's complaints, Amy picked up both cases and headed towards the back door. "No sense in standing around. Let's get started."
"We don't need to wait for the owner?" Ryan asked.
"I told her that we'd appreciate a little privacy."
"...and she was okay with that?"
"Of course. Beth is a sweetheart."
"If you say so." Ryan shook his head bemusedly, then stepped forward to open the door for her. "Ladies first."
***
Yesterday's rain had turned the ground outside into a soggy mess that squelched under their shoes as they walked. Amy led the way, selecting a lane for them that was as far away from the building as they could get.
Turning to Syd, she pointed at the distant berm.
"That's fifty feet away. We'll start by trying to hit anywhere on the dirt and work our way up from there, okay?"
Syd nodded tightly, her expression serious.
"How was your shift?" Ryan asked, putting in his earplugs.
"Long," Amy admitted. She had one hand placed at the small of Syd's back, and was using the other to help her find her stance. "But I cleared my docket for the next few days, and the chief approved my leave request. I've got the rest of the week off so that we can deal with... all of this."
The sight of the two women pressed together, with Amy's toned arms wrapped around Syd's slender frame... it made him feel a certain kind of way.
Syd arched her back, pushing her round, tight backside into Amy's crotch.
His pants, which had fit pretty well until now, suddenly felt at least three sizes too small.
Last night had barely been enough to take the edge off, and tonight seemed so far away.
It was impressive how quickly Syd picked up the basics. To her credit, Amy proved to be an excellent teacher. Before long, Syd was putting shots on a man-sized silhouette target with some regularity.
Once they'd gone through two boxes of ammunition, she signaled Syd that it was time for a break, then pulled out her earplugs and waved for them to do the same.
"Do you mind taking over a bit?" she asked Ryan. "I need to make a quick call."
"Sure, no problem."
She gave him a grateful smile. Fishing her phone out of her pocket, she vanished back into the building.
Syd watched Amy leave, then immediately beckoned Ryan over.
"C'mere," she said. "I need you to help me with my stance."
Shaking his head ruefully, Ryan moved to the location she'd indicated.
"You've already got the basic stance down, Syd..."
"Show me anyway."
She batted her eyes at him until he gave in.
Closing the remaining distance between them, Ryan stepped in behind her and placed his hands over hers. She brought the shotgun up to her shoulder, and he made some minute adjustments to the position of her arms and feet.
"My dad always told me that the trick is to squeeze the trigger, not jerk it," he told her, leaning forward a bit so that he could speak into her ear. "You want to apply even pressure for a smooth, steady pull."
Letting out a low moan, Syd ground herself against his groin.
"Mmm. Squeeze it, don't jerk it. Smooth and steady. Any other tips for me, big guy?"
Against his better judgment, Ryan slid a hand down around her stomach and pulled her tightly into him. She whimpered, a needy sound that made his hips twitch involuntarily. More than anything, he wanted to rip her pants off and take her right there.
"I've got more than a tip for you," he growled.
"Oh, believe me, I can tell." She giggled. "Is that a gun in your pocket, or –"
Distantly, he heard the door slam open. The unexpected noise was, fortunately, loud enough to penetrate his lust-addled thoughts. He didn't want to think about what Amy might have said – or done – if she'd caught them screwing around with a loaded shotgun wedged in between them.
At this point, there was no hope of stepping away. The best he could manage was to hastily move his hands back above her waistline, where they would be in clear view, and pretend that he'd been diligently instructing her the whole time rather than feeling her up.
"Okay," he said, fighting to keep his voice casual, "now squeeze the trigger."
The deafening report reminded him that he'd also neglected to put his earplugs back in. Syd's shot had been damn-near center mass, though.
As she approached them, Amy's lower lip trembled, like she couldn't decide whether she wanted to smirk or frown.
"You two look comfortable," she observed tonelessly.
"Oh, we are," Syd replied, wearing an expression that was anything but contrite and making no effort to separate herself from Ryan. "It's just too bad that we don't have a bigger audience," she mused in a too-loud voice. "Imagine how hot anybody watching would think we would look together."
"W-what?" Amy asked in a strangled tone.
He didn't think Syd's teasing was anything out of the ordinary, but some quirk of the phrasing she'd chosen made Amy go totally rigid – bolt upright, eyes wide, as if she'd just licked a battery.
"We did look hot, didn't we?" Syd asked, tilting her head up to look at Ryan. She clutched her shoulders dramatically. "Me and Amy, I mean. She's all fit and blonde and thick, and there I was in her arms, so cute and tiny..."
In near-complete harmony, Ryan and Amy both yelled, "Sydney!"