The evening was filled with nightmares. This wasn't too uncommon, unfortunately. Incoming fire. Children holding rifles... or IEDs disguised as bookbags, or even soda cans. Death. Fire. Pain. Blood. Growing steadily more indistinct over time until he awoke in a cold sweat, hours before dawn; and settled back in, trying to get back to sleep and giving the PTSD counselor some serious consideration.
When it came time to actually get moving, Jason's first step of testing was one of his favorite spots on a base; the firing range; granted, this was a bit of a special situation in his experience. He put on his only other civilian outfit; a nice black button-up shirt and slacks, still with the same military boots; and headed out. He had tons of cash at this point; he really needed to take a day off and go shopping. Get a house. Some clothes. All sorts of stuff.
The sort of firing range he was used to was one of two varieties; improvised paper targets, either on pull-cords or just hanging on walls, organized with measured distances; or the semi-professional sort where they had nonsense like machines that could pull the same targets around to simulate movement.
This place was... different. There were no less than twelve different firing ranges, some of them not even designed for guns at all, and two of which were made for people with superhuman reflexes, sending projectiles careening about at hundreds of miles per hour. He hadn't seen the second one yet, but Dr. Martinez had called him up to the first one. A series of strange, complicated machines dotted the walls, ceiling, and floor of the long corridor, and orange spheres ranging from the size of a quarter to that of a basketball were attached to the ends of rods at varying distances.
She was tapping away at a console to the side of the entrance when he stepped inside, still wearing the same lab-coat over a simple black outfit, but this time complete with a pair of headphones; likely not just normal headphones; when he entered.. "Mister Bennet. Yesterday, we started up the test of long-term precognition. It might seem a bit backwards, but if you can see six months out, it will of course take six months for us to really know for sure, so we needed to get that out of the way first. Today, we're going to do some tests of more short-term things. Minutes, hours, seconds. I've got a headset I'd like you to wear, and we're going to go through some basics here. Your objective is to get however high a score you can during a five-minute firing session."
She gestured at the table. There was an armory with access to all twelve of the firing ranges; though it didn't just have weapons and ammunition, it also stocked ballistics gel-laden dummies and a variety of equipment useful for testing metahuman powers; but he didn't get to visit that today. Instead, four rifles of different sorts, and two handguns, were laid out on a table facing downrange.
At the end of them all was a simple metal band, with an elastic strip; that, when he started to put it on, went over his third eye. It took a few minutes of adjusting for him to get it set properly, while Dr. Martinez scowled; he thought he heard her mutter something about 'Jacobs' and 'adaptation' as she helped get it settled so it wasn't obscuring his vision. He settled his own ear protection over it; one of the familiar units that should muffle loud noises, but let more soft ones come through clearly.
"Okay. There we go. Now I've got a good picture of your brain. Each weapon is already loaded. Look at them, choose which you want to use. You can only pick one, and when you start shooting, the round is over when you run out of ammo, or the five buzzer hits. There are going to be dozens of targets, we just want to see how many you can shoot, not how quickly; these things will be moving beyond the speed any normal marksman can hit."
He nodded, and stepped up to look over the weapons. The handguns would be right out; he was a good shot with a handgun at close to medium range, but they fired lower-velocity projectiles. The rifles...
It was a bit odd. An AK-47, an M-4, an AR-15, an M-45, and one of those giant bulky anti-Jotun rifles that they weren't allowed to bring into the field; or even anywhere the brass thought they might be captured. For a moment he was tempted to pick that one up. The muzzle velocity on those things was insane, and they'd only been fired in real battle a tiny number of times; though every soldier and marine was required to qualify with one since they were first built.
But... he knew it wasn't the best choice. He started to reach for the M-45, since it was the current military standard, and one he'd used extensively, with the second-highest muzzle velocity of the weapons in front of him... but no. Something was telling him not to. It was... strange. Stupid even. But...
He picked up the AK-47, chambered a round, and set it on his shoulder. "Alright then. Lets get started."
Dr. Martinez glanced down at the weapons, then the AK. "Mind telling me why you chose that one?"
"No idea. Just felt right."
She nodded slowly... and then hit the switch on the wall after waiting a few more seconds, as if there were some hidden timer she was watching.
The range was a blur of orange movement. Tiny targets, flying faster than they could be normally visually tracked... in theory. He hadn't thought about it til now, but apparently his baseline vision was substantially better than it used to be; and for the first few seconds, he just watched.
He had no way to tell just how fast these projectiles were moving. But he could see what would happen when he pulled the trigger. Whether one would get struck or not. He inhaled deeply; and started to fire. Careful, precise shots; waiting until his vision told him that, if he fired, he'd hit one of the targets; and kept going, one by one.
He knew he had five minutes, and only thirty shots; so he took his time. Gave it a few seconds before each pull of the trigger. He could tell if he was going to miss a shot; and just waited a bit longer, changing angles, hitting a different target.
When he felt the click of an empty magazine, he raised the rifle to the ceiling, glancing at the doctor; and she nodded, hitting the switch again; the movement stopped.
She glanced at the computer console by the door. "Thirty shots, thirty hits. Targets ranging from three hundred to nine hundred and ninety miles per hour. Not bad, to say the least. The other range uses holographic targets and can get faster; we'll try it some other day."
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He inhaled, nodded, and set the rifle down on the counter. Normally at this point, he would either be disassembling it to clean it, or loading another magazine at this stage. "We going again, or...?"
"Not quite yet. If you want to go take a break, me and Jacobs are going to setup the next test, if you can step out, send him in? We'll call you when its time."
***
A small lobby connected the various ranges; the twelve all faced southward, taking up much of the third and fourth floors of DMA HQ; and when he saw Jason step out, a man wearing a labcoat; Jason was reasonably sure he was one of the men who had been setting up the tables yesterday; noticed him, and started to hustle by, pushing a cart. "Are you Dr. Jacobs?"
The man coughed. Exactly the sort of pasty geek he expected for this sort of job, he looked uncomfortable. "Ahh... no. Not a doctor. Never graduated actually. Martinez wanted me in as soon as you were done, so..."
Jason chuckled, and stepped out of the way; glancing over at... a set of leaderboards. There was a wall-sized screen in the lobby, with a series of tables including all-time best scores, monthly best scores, daily best scores; he'd come in early, but the lists were all populated for the day; aside from Range 11, that he'd just stepped out of, which was blank for the daily scores, and had a 'Closed for Maintenance' sign on the scoreboard.
Two men wearing the solid black DMA uniforms, with green and silver badges, watched Jason stepping out. The first; with odd, spikey hair that seemed to be literal spikes rather than just gel, glanced at him, then the board. "You a new maintenance guy? What happened to Tony?"
"Ahh, no. Just a new recruit. They hijacked the range to do some powers testing."
The two men gave a slow nod. "Well, that explains that. Usually they take the systems down once a month, and they last did it a week ago. I thought something went wrong. How'd you score?"
"...Not sure if I'm supposed to say. My powers are classified for right now."
"Hah! Well. I'm Donny, I go by Deadeye in the field. I've got... mid-level super-reflexes, and I can shoot lasers." He raised his hands; each was wearing a black, fingerless glove, and his fingertips glowed softly. "I can shoot em from anywhere, really, but the fingers help me focus, and if I try it with the eyes I'm blind while I'm doing it."
"Ahh. I think I heard of you. You're on the strike team that handles things in Virginia, right?"
"Hell yeah. Its not bad. Most of the states have their own HQ, but we're so close we get to stage out of DC. Bobby here..." He smacked the other man on the shoulder. "Is one more fuckup from getting sent to Wyoming."
The other man; a bit shorter and more heavyset, but with the same tanned complexion as the first, sighed. "Not really. I go by Tempest in the field. Still working on getting a hang of my powers, I caused a bit of... collateral damage when we took out the guys at the stadium last month."
Jason blinked. "Ohhhhhh. You're the one who did the whole lightning and snow thing, right? Killed all the bad guys but flooded everything, a few drownings, some hypothermia cases? Hell, man, if someone had gone in with guns those hostages would all be dead. Better two dead and a few sick than hundreds of bodies."
Tempest smiled. "See? That's what Rhodes said. This fucker keeps bugging me because his powers are so pinpoint that the only civilian casualty he ever had was some idiot who pulled a water pistol on him."
"Anyways! I'm Jason Bennet. Don't really have a callsign, though my buds in the army called me Kamikaze; god knows what they'll call me now, I've been told that's a terrible idea."
Deadeye shrugged. "Well, it depends. The marketing department and PR like to have people with cool and patriotic names. But they aren't in charge... and you don't have to sign up for it. Hell, for most of us it doesn't make much difference, and its just wearing a fancy costume and all for pennies. Each state's got its own team... or teams... but while the Houston Defenders are a huge deal and everybody celebrates them, and all three of the New York teams have tons of fans, nobody cares about the Virginia Cavaliers. Granted... we don't have a supervillain attack every other day like New York, so we're not in the news so often."
Tempest laughed. "Oh, god. Remember when the Lord of Iron came in, animated the statue of liberty, and all the lesser villains ran amok? If Lightning hadn't stepped in, they'd have been fuuucked. So many of their fanboys were pissed, talking about the Titan stealing their thunder, as if any of them wanted to handle him."
Jason glanced behind him. The door to #11 had opened, and Jacobs was stepping out, looking at him. "Ahh, well. I think I'm back in for testing. You guys have fun, who knows, maybe I'll be working with you sometime." He nodded at the duo; and turned back, stepping into the chamber as Jacobs stepped out.
The two heroes watched him go. Tempest glanced at Jacobs, then Deadeye. "I think I actually heard of him before, Kamikaze. Had a few registered Meta kills... and just as many extended stays in the hospital. I don't think he'll be around for long, but I bet he'll be fun while he is."
***
"Alright. So we've changed things up a little."
Dr. Martinez was standing beside the console, and things looked mostly the same. The two handguns, the M-4, M-45, the AR-15, the Ak-47, and the Anti-Jotun rifle, all laid out on the table once again; everything looked exactly the same.
Jason frowned, as he stepped up. Was there a trick? What was different? "Same thing again? Pick a gun, shoot til its empty?"
"Precisely."
He started to reach for the AK-47 again. He wasn't sure why he picked it last time, but if it... wait.
It felt... wrong. To grab the AK. He focused on the gun for a moment. It would take more than a few seconds for him to check the magazine, unfortunately, so he couldn't check what was different. But something was.
The M-4 and the M-45 both had the same 30-round standard magazine size as the AK, and the one on the AR-15 looked like a 20-round mag. Between his familiarity with the weapons and their capability, it should be the M-45 every time. But.....
He picked up the AR-15, frowning. "I... have no idea why. But this one just feels right this time. I can see a few seconds out, and anything I can inspect on them in that time looks fine. But... this one just feels right. Can you explain?"
"Go ahead and shoot first. Then we'll go over it, before we keep going. We'll be doing this for a few hours."
He raised the rifle; and she hit the switch. It was easier, this time. The weapon's higher muzzle velocity made each shot just slightly easier to take; and a few of those that were breaking the sound barrier were easier targets with the AR-15 than they had been with the AK. He performed just the same; squeezing off shot after shot, nailing a target every time... but in the end, there were only 20 bullets. He couldn't hit as many targets as he had with the AK.
When he set the rifle down, having shot another perfect score, he glanced at the doctor. "...Alright. Another perfect score. Can you explain now?"
"This was a test of your marksmanship, yes. We knew you were a decent shot, and assumed your powers would make you better. We.... didn't assume it would make you -this- much better, but we thought it would. It wasn't only a marksmanship test, though. For each test, we sabotaged all but one of the rifles in a way it would take more than three seconds to spot. The AK-47, this time, was loaded with blanks we'd done to look real after the first few rounds as were the M4 and the M-45. If you'd picked anything but the AK the first time, your score would have been three. If you'd picked anything but the AR-15 the second time, the same. We're gonna keep going, but each time we'll be introducing longer delays between when you choose your gun and start firing."
He nodded slowly. This was weird, being toyed with like this... but it was also fun. He was looking forward to seeing just what he was capable of.