9573/Ten rings

Ten rings
Date of Scene:	14 October 2019
Location:	Triskelion Shootin range.
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Sowa, Hawkeye (Barton)

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Sowa has posed:
    Berna is often enough, all but a ghost around the Triskelion. She keeps herself busy, and well so busy that she's never so much as visited her little office at the Triskelion. She hadn't missed a muster call, but well otherwise she was everything you'd expect from a career sniper. Namely:Scarce.

    Tonight though, well the range has been empty for hours. Even now though, well it's being used but it's still not exactly loud. Theres that mostly transparent P-90 thing set on the rifle rack, along with a string of seemingly identical bolt action rifles. All of them fitted with, well some sort of spooky black project laser designator thing, a ballistic range finder bolted onto the left side of the rifle, running back to a GPS bolted onto the side of the stock. The chassis a construct hewn from some sort of mostly transparent aluminum, kevlar reinforcement and plenty of titanium. Not the sort've thing you can buy, or well even build if you were so inclined.

    Berna sits casually atop one of the shooting benches, legs crossed and elbows braced against her knees. Judging from the little scribble sheets she's got stacked neatly to one side, and the amount of spent cartridges she's lined up neatly behind her? Well she's building dope sheets but of course, mercilessly ploughing exotic little pills through the ten ring. It's not much range, but hey it's more than enough to verify a dope sheet right?

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
Clint knows the rhythms of the Triskelion ranges well, he knows when they're busy and when they're quiet, this is definitely one of those quiet times, or it should be, but as he makes his way down bow slung over his back, a few new trick arrows in his quivver he finds he's not alone.

Slowing his pace he approaches carefully, not out of any sort of fear or caution but because he wants to get a look at who's shooting before they get a look at him, a sort of unguarded look at who they are and what they can do. However he's dressed in a pair of hiking boots and he's not Romanov, so how stealthy he manages to be is up for debate.

Sowa has posed:
    You could confuse that gear for some sort of Gorka, but the Russian kit doesn't come cut for ladies. Nor does it come in grey on dark grey either mind, complete with a matching patrol cap of course. That'd be GROM gear, or at least some of it. Not like SHIELD has that many snipers anyway, much less polish ones. An owlish pictograph in neat black ink emblazoned where a unit patch would otherwise go, a "Sowa" indeed.

    Slowly she lowers that rifle, rolling the optic out of her field of view to carefully deconstruct her form, before half turning to peer across towards Clint. Her expression utterly neutral, down to the slow deliberate blink. "Am I in your way?"The Polish accent is present, if subtle. Delivered flatly, as plainly spoken as English can be.

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
Clint takes in the show with the quiet appreciation of a professional, he does mistake the gear at first before deciding it had to be some sort of custom kit or something he hadn't run into recently. Her movements give her away as a professional, even here in the safety of the range she's deliberate like a sniper in the field.

Quite the different take than Clint's fly by the seat of his pants approach, but spoke to training, his teachers were crooks, people who shot for quick cash, this woman, the 'asset' from Poland, he recognizes her now, when she speaks in that peculiar way, was trained by professionals.

"Nah," Clint says. "Just watching you work. I'm Clint Barton by the way," he walks forward extending a hand. His rep has likely proceeded him, if someone at SHIELD is talking sharpshooters the two names that come up are Bucky Barnes, and of course, Clint Barton.

Sowa has posed:
    Carefully she fans the action open, before thumbing the bolt back and laying the thing down ever so gently. Then well, she hops on down just as silent as a shadow. She takes a moment to rub the carbon from her fingers, before casually lifting her hand up into a lazy salute. "Nauczycielka Starzy Sierzant Berna Wieczorek."That whole thing, yep Polish.

    In anycase she does offer a hand to shake, and a little ghost of a nod. "I have heard of you of course, It was refreshing to see the Americans have an archer in their ranks. We used compound bows in the jungle, and crossbows. It always seemed queer that their usage was not more widespread."

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
Clint returns the salute even though he's very much a civilian. "Wow, all that huh," he says when he's given her name. "Anything I can call you for short?" he asks her with a lopsided grin.

"Yeah, I am sort of the odd one around here for it though," he says with a nod to his bow. "They just seem to make sense, they're quiet, I can switch the type of payload on the fly, but mostly, it's what I was trained on for most my life, so I'm comfortable with them."

The bit about using bows while in the jungle gets a nod, "So you shoot bows as well as guns then?" he asks with that smile still in place.

Sowa has posed:
    "Not professionally, but I hunted with a recurve before I joined the army."Casually stuffing her hands into her smock's pockets, before adopting the sort've characteristic slouch of any professional soldier. "My father still does, but it's been some years for me. Haven't had the need, and it seems a bit odd to shoot just for the sport of it."
    So she's emotive, just not with her facial expressions at least. "I was looking foreward to meeting you when I was given my orders, actually. I do not often meet others who share my devotion to my trade, and an archer surely must be the master of his craft to be of use. I trust the platform does not present you with any undue limitations, considering the company we are to work beside?"

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
Brows raising in surprise at Berna remarks about shooting for sport, Clint chuckles, "That's half the reason I come down to the range, just the fun of it." But then unlike Berna he had a professional reason to shoot bows as well.

He does note her language has more emotional range than her face can show but carries on, "After the sales pitch your government gave us about your abilities, I was looking forward to meeting you too," he says. "Alway nice to meet a fellow pro" he offers a shrug for his mastery of his craft, answering with a simple, "I do okay," without any sort of false modesty, "And the I can do alright from the platform there it's not a problem."

Sowa has posed:
    "The old man sold used tractors once upon a time, or so the story goes."Casually she turns, hopping back into position and her rifle up in her lap. "You should have heard his sales pitch to get me into the unit, I wanted to go into the forestry service originally."Theres a pause there, before casually reaching behind her to dig about in her little tool bag.

    "As we are both shooters, and this is our first meeting. I believe we ought to enjoy ourselves. How does pin heads at fourty yards sound? I can use the PDW or a pistol, if you feel the rifle's optic offers too much of an advantage?"One corner of her mouth upturning ever so slightly as she offers over a pack of needles. Goodness it's almost enough to mistake it for a grin!

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
"I'd believe it," Clint says with a grin. "Sort of reminded me of the guy who used to run the circus I grew up in, man could talk anyone into anything." The way he says it, the circus bit might be literal, which is backed up by his file if she's read it. Clint learned his craft during most of his teenage years sharpshooting for a down on its luck circus travelling the Midwest.

"Sounds good," he says of the having fun part. "While I'm using my bow? No way, we both have a dissadvantage or neither of us do," He laughs. "But good for pinheads at 40 yards, though."

Sowa has posed:
    The target zooms back on it's line, and is delicately plucked free to set upon a stack of equally perfectly punched paper targets. A fresh one placed into the rack, and well pins delicately inserted in the paper, usually of course the targets are bigger and much further but what'cha gonna do at fourty yards? "Alright rifle against bow, though we'll both do standing unsupported. Loser buys the beer?"

    Casually she rises, snagging a trio of magazines before snagging another one of those bolt actions. Delicately double checking the can for tightness, before strolling up to the firing line next to Clint. "No need to rush, you are shooting with the incredible disadvantage of having to soon buy beer. It's a terrible burden, or so I'm told."

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
Clint trust Berna to set up the targets, he doesn't even bother to look, he just gets his bow out and picks a few of his target arrows out of his quivver leaving the specail loads for another time. He figured blowing up the whole target was against the spirit of the competition.

"Agreed," Clint says of the terms before breaking into a grin, "Glad to see trash talk is the international language of shooters," he comments as he lifts his bow with casual ease. "By the way I like my beer from this one place in Brooklyn, I'll show you after I win."

He takes aim, breathes in, draws, and then releases with the outbreath, the arrow flies down range, pieceing the target and taking a pinhead with it.

"That's one," he says with a smile.

Sowa has posed:
    The draw and release are watched, before she peers downrange. "I don't know what your talking about, I'd never stoop to picking on an archer."See, that fantastic poker face and flat delivery sort've work if you can take your humor on the dry end of the spectrum.

    Casually she shoulders that rifle and slaps the bolt home. She takes a moment, before taking first pressure and pausing right there. Eyes half lidding for a moment, before she neatly punches a pin downrange with a nice clean .30 caliber hole. Delicately she fans that bolt open, snagging the empty casing between her fingers to stuff it away in a pocket. "You sure you don't want me to use a pistol or the PDW, maybe whilst standing one handed and singing happy birthday? Just to even the odds, of course."

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
No joke, the whole robotic facial thing really sold that dry humour. Clint grins a little wider at it. "That's funny I eat sniper's lunches all day long," he counters, though as he does he takes a moment to study her as she shoots. Not some creepy checking her out sort of thing, but watching how she does her craft and as it turns out she does it well.

"Heh," Clint says, as he sights down range, then looks over to her, "I could shoot while talking to you if you want, no looking past that glance a moment ago," he brags, still grinning. "You know, to make it fair."

Sowa has posed:
    "Oh I don't know, that'd make scoring rather difficult."Her attention fixed firmly on Clint for the moment. "I suppose, we could do things in a more classical style all the same. In honor of your, most classical of weaponry of course."

    She doesn't have a mirror handy, but she does have a phone of course. She fiddles with the camera for a moment, before turning to rest the forearm of that rifle on her shoulder. Cell phone raised as she sights over her shoulder for a modern Annie Oakley shot. The rifle barks, and well she punches another pin downrange just as pretty as you please." Incidentally, Berna is my first name. Clint. My team mates call me Sowa, it means Owl."

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
"True," Clint says. He takes one more glance down range to compensate for all the little movements of his body since his last glance. "But I think I can manage."

He lets fly and another pin falls headless to the range floor, giving Clint ample time to enjoy that Annie Oakley shot of hers. "Sure you weren't the one who grew up at the circus," he teases lightly. "That'd bring in the punters for sure."

"Owl huh? It suits you," Clint remarks with a nod. "Which do you prefer?" he asks her before glancing down range. "Looks like a tie game so far, so what happens if we're both too good at this range?"

Sowa has posed:
    "In mixed company, just pretend I'm Czech or something. In private, whatever you feel like honestly. I'm not a hero, I don't have a whole persona or anything. I do however, show up in pretty much every Russian Bingo book published in the last ten years. So be sparse with the Polish sniper stuff, because thus far they don't know much about me."The advantage of course, of not leaving any witnesses.

    "Growing up I had a red ryder BB gun, and read western books with wild abandon. I wanted to be a cowgirl in the worst of ways, idolized Annie Oakley."She pauses, tucking that phone away. Then slowly she half turns, rolling the rifle into position and without a second's hesitation she looses the round into a pin downrange. Slowly continuing the slow swing, until fanning the action open oncemore.

    "Well we could always exchange beer, which is fine but that leaves you under this terrible delusion of grandeur. Sooner or later we'll need to figure out a way to settle things, illustrate how out of your depth you are."Theres a casual little roll of the shoulders. "I understand it really, not everyday you get to meet somone of my caliber."

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
"Sure thing," Clint says about keeping the whole Polish sniper thing on the DL, he could understand it, he was on a lot of people and countries shit lists as well, just he happened to also be a minor celebrity as well... which complicated things a whole lot since the Battle of New York. "We'll go with Berrna then. As for me, Clint, Hawk, Hawkeye, are all good, just not Hotshot, only Skye calls me that."

There's a nod about the gun, "Those things are cool, always wanted one, the nuns at the orphanage wouldn't let me and when I got to the circus, Trickshot wanted me on my bow all day long," he gives shrug for what could have been. "Bet you could give Oakley a run for her money now though," he says before her shot confirms it.

He grins though as he lifts his bow, aims and shoots, knocking his third pin out.

"Looks like it's going to be trading," Clint says. "As for how we can work this business out properly, SHIELD has access to some of proper sniper ranges in the US and Canada, figure we pick one and see how things go at long range." There's a snort though to end it, "Caliber, huh? Oooh, that's bad. You'll fit in fine here."

Sowa has posed:
    "Nuns at my school didn't much care for me either, or dad. Said my mother was a witch, which may or may not be true."casually she peers after the target for a moment, before half turning to snag that mostly transparent glock on her hip. Theres a moment spent lining up those coarse irons, before she looses a round down range. Not quite as on center as the rifle, but likely about what that canned glock is capable of.

    "Oh sure pick a range, but try not to pick one I've taught at."theres a moment's thought at that. "How about trap shooting, I mean I've shot it before but I've never really seriously practiced it."

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
"Okay, there's got to be a story there, the witch thing I mean," Clint remarks. The work with the side arm gets a whistle of approval, "Nice. I don't have a sidearm myself so should I just throw an arrow down range?" he jokes.

"Heh. That sounds like it could be challenging to find," he says of their choice of ranges. "Trap shooting though, haven't done that before, could be a fair contest."

Sowa has posed:
    "Thrown knife?"She shrugs, reaching down to jerk free a blade. She offers the thing over, and well it's balanced for throwing sure. It's also a nasty little piece of work, it's like an obnoxiously sharp drill bit, thats been both perforated and serrated. The sort've blade with exactly one purpose in life. "I've got a pair of them, and I mean fourty yards is quite the pitch right?"

    "Trap shooting with, well we could do it properly with shotguns or I suppose we could be obnoxious. Trap shooting with uhh, belt fed weapons perhaps? I mean I have access to a few, and you probably do too?"

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
"That'll work," Clint says as he takes the knife and with a quick look down range sends it tumbling end over end to pass through what was left of the center of the target.

"Thanks," Clint says. "Wasn't prepared for a contest tonight."

As for the idea of belt fed weapon trap shooting, he grins, "That has a certain perverse pleasure in it, one round of those, one round of shotguns and one with our preferred weapons just to make things interesting. And yeah, I can get my hands on some."

Sowa has posed:
    Berna is not, infact a world class knife thrower. She did it enough to get through selection, and then there was that one time in Argentina... Anywho she takes a moment, before letting it fly. It's not a perfect throw unfortunately, but it does land in the paper. Off center and at the bottom of the paper, but hey she hit the thing.

    Thats enough to get the ghost of a smile out of her. "Or whatever, sure. I like blue moon, for beer. None of that craft brew shit, I'm enlisted after all right?"She offers a little nod at that, before offering Clint a hand. "It's nice to know theres at least one person who's aim is borderline acceptable."

Hawkeye (Barton) has posed:
Clint nods at the throw, it was still good at this range, he just got taught to throw... more circus stuff.

"Likewise," he says of acceptable aim. "And I like my beer from Gino's in Brooklyn, tell them it's for me and they'll know what you're talking about."