Chapter 12 (1/2)
”What? Keep your voice up, my side is very noisy! ”
”We have found Tony Stark and are sending him back to the US military base!” Cried Gideon, almost thrusting the telephone into his mouth.
”Oh, OK, just send it back. Remember to ask stark to reimburse the bill. I still have something on my side!” With these words, Fisher hung up the phone, joked, and sent stark home. Is it important to shoot with his sister? These men are really not good at being human. Later, they ordered the commander of the real son, Cormac, to deduct the team's year-end bonus!
On the other side, in the wide cabin of the Black Hawk helicopter, Rhodes and stark are looking at each other.
”What's your boss doing? I heard gunshots?” Rhodes is curious.
”Isn't it an activity of the rifle association these days? The old man in the boss's house is good, so they should be at the meeting!”
”Rifle association? Why do they never invite me to their activities? ” Stark was as surprised as if he had heard a new term.
”Because they don't have models and rum, but a bunch of women and beer, and you shouldn't be popular!” Rhodes leaned on the bulkhead and said sarcastically.
”Why? It's not that I haven't shot! ”
”No, no, no, you don't understand. Those who go there to play with guns are all kinds of gun lovers. They just feel the charm of shooting, not to show off their weapons!” Rhodes changed his cocked legs and said, ”and your top priority now is to hurry home and cultivate yourself, not to participate in any activities!”
”Well, I miss the taste of cheeseburger!”
………………………………………………………………
”What's the matter? What's the matter with the company? ”
”It's okay, that's what stark was found!”
”Oh, I'll continue with why it's a big deal!”
”OK, let's go!” Fisher hurled four ceramic targets filled with colored powder into the distant sky.
Then the old father standing next to him raised his Mossberg M590 shotgun and quickly fired, loaded, fired, loaded.
After four shots, four groups of red smoke exploded in the air, and the crowd watching immediately burst into cheers.
”You want one?” Asked father Fisher, raising Mossberg.
”No, I don't like pumping! Isn't semi-automatic good? ” Fisher refused Mossberg and took out his M1014 from the box.
”Start, time!” The staff on one side pressed the timer, and then Fisher rushed into the shooting range. The roaring shotgun broke seven targets in a few seconds. Then Fisher lifted his clothes, pulled out a shotgun from the bullet feeder tied around his waist, filled the magazine from the shell mouth, loaded it, and smashed the last target.
”Seven seconds 31!”
”How's it going, isn't it?” Fisher blew proudly at the still steaming muzzle of the gun.
”Yes, let's go. Let's go somewhere else!”
As an annual event for shooting enthusiasts, the rifle association naturally can not hold a free shooting activity. In fact, it can only be regarded as a warm-up.