badly_knitted: (Dee & Ryo black & white)
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Title: On The Range

Fandom: FAKE

Author: [personal profile] badly_knitted     

Characters: Dee, Ryo

Rating: PG

Setting: Before Vol. 4.

Summary: Dee and Ryo have taken to practicing on the firing range together whenever they can.

Word Count: 550

Written For: My own prompt ‘FAKE, Dee/Ryo, Practicing on the shooting range,’ at [community profile] fic_promptly.

Disclaimer: I don’t own FAKE, or the characters. They belong to the wonderful Sanami Matoh.





Firearms practice is compulsory at the 27th for detectives as well as for the uniformed patrol officers. Everyone is expected to put in a minimum of an hour a week, on their own time. It’s not a good idea to become complacent; the streets can be dangerous and if there’s a shootout, it helps to know you can hit what you’re aiming at.


Dee and Ryo try to fit in a thirty to forty minute session on the firing range twice a week, sometimes on their lunch break but more often they come to work a bit early so they can practice before they start their shift. Dee’s not sure when that habit started, but it works well for them.


The range is a spacious area in the basement of the precinct, soundproofed so as not to disturb those who work in the labs and file room, the other basement departments. The floor is made of stone slabs and the walls are utilitarian cold concrete, pockmarked in places where shots have missed the target area completely. Some people should obviously practice more often.


The end wall, beyond the targets, is covered with a safety material that catches the bullets, preventing dangerous ricochets. Everyone is expected to collect their spent rounds from it after a practice session and drop them in a bucket for recycling. Dee supposes they get melted down and the metal re-used to manufacture new bullets. It makes sense; why waste resources?


A few metres from the door there’s a row of partitioned shooting stations facing down the length of the room, each with its own little shelf for your gun and spare clips. That’s where Dee and Ryo are now, standing at adjoining stations, loading their weapons, Dee with his six-shot revolver and Ryo with the bulkier sixteen round automatic that everyone but Dee gets to use. Dee casts an envious glance at Ryo’s weapon and sighs. When is the Chief going to relent and let him have an automatic again? He’s being good out on the street, using less rounds, firing only when necessary because he has to reload more often than Ryo. Besides, his partner’s still the better shot and probably always will be. Practicing with Ryo is improving Dee’s aim with a stationary target though. He’s always been better at hitting moving objects.


Putting on their ear-protectors, he and Ryo glance at each other and grin, turning back to the distant paper targets and taking aim. Despite having nearly three times as many rounds in his gun as Dee, Ryo restricts himself to just six; it wouldn’t be a fair contest otherwise. Not that it is a contest, not really, it’s just that it’s easier to tell how close Dee is getting to matching Ryo’s marksmanship if they fire the same number of shots.


Retrieving their targets using the remote controlled pulley system, they check the results. Ryo’s six shots are clustered dead center of the bull’s-eye, practically making a single hole. Dee’s are slightly more spread out, five in the center, the holes blurring together, one, his first shot, just crossing the line between the bull’s-eye and the inner ring, his best result yet.


“Nice shooting!” Ryo tells him and Dee smiles back, justifiably proud.


Maybe next time he’ll get them all in.




The End



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