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The Portal Games

Ailsa's Promo

The satisfying crack of her rifle was immediately followed with the ting of the target going down. Ailsa smiled, pulling back from the sight -

"Do it again."

Only for the range master to come down like the hardass he was. The stingray paused, looking over her shoulder at him with a raised eyebrow.

"You saw it go down." Bitch. "I got it."

"Could be a fluke. Do it again."

"..."

"Now, Marine!"

That shouting might have bothered her back in Boot. Not anymore. Not in the same way.

She lowered her head back to the sight, shuffling herself back into position. The cracks of other gunshots to her side told her that the other snipers in training were well on their way to spending more ammo than they needed. Poor form. Bad shots. Pissing away stuff that they'd need if they were ever out there.

Not that she ever wanted to be 'out there'. She was just fine sticking around the base, collecting pay and being ready. But if she ever was...

Breathe in. Sight. Release.

Three quick pulls of the trigger, and three more targets went down. Shoulder hurt like hell, too, a dull reminder of just how stupid that had been. Showing off rapid sniper shots was a good way to get yourself sent to the medic for fucking up your shoulder. It was, however, a good way to prove that the first shot hadn't been a fluke.

This time, she didn't pull back until the range master kicked her boot. She dragged the rifle up with her, emptying the chamber and ejecting the rest of her bullets before locking it in safety. The Chihuahua standing behind her glared upwards as she got her footing.

"Don't get cocky. You're still a long way from getting that teaching accreditation."

"You keep saying that, sir."

"Dismissed."

She saluted before walking around him. It didn't take long to put the crack-crack-crack of rifle fire behind her, not when the rolling rumble of Army trucks and Marine jeeps went by. They were constantly moving in and out of the base, building up for something that was never going to happen. Higher-ups were shit at keeping secrets, everyone knew that. The first officer that could keep their men in the dark was the officer that'd actually get their soldiers to give a damn.

She lost herself in the noise for a bit, letting the drone of the vehicles push the range master's voice out of her head. Not that his piss-and-vinegar approach got the same fear out of her that it used to. Hell, nobody shouting at her could freak her out anymore. Nah, she was just pissed that she kept having to prove herself.

"You'd think that blowing that many holes in things would get you some fucking respect around here."

Shaking her head, she took herself back to her barracks. The sniper rifle was stowed back with the rest of them, and she checked her pistol out again. Double-checking the safety after the officer behind the desk did the same, she nodded, saluted, and left. Wrist complained from that, and so did her shoulder.

Ailsa made her way down to the cafeteria, grabbing a burger before making her way to a table. Chow was still half an hour off, but she had arrangements with some of the guys working the kitchen: she got early dinner as long as she helped out without being asked twice a week. Considering she'd come from a cooking background, considering she coulda opened her own fucking restaurant rather than coming to the Marines, they took whatever they could get and were thankful for it.

She tore into the burger with a vengeance, wondering if she could push her luck to get a bit of booze out of the kitchen. Even some cooking wine wouldn't be that bad, long as it had enough alcohol in it. Would get her to stop thinking about how the range master was the last prick in a long line of pricks that wanted proof she could manage.

Little memories like little painted targets danced through her head. The asshole at the restaurant she'd worked at as the second chef. The father of the girl she'd been dating before enlisting. Her own parents, half the time.

The stingray's purple cheeks burned pink, and she pulled her hand through her hair, the white strands clinging just enough to prove that she needed a haircut. One more thing for the officers to get on her case about.

She'd signed up to be somewhere where results were supposed to matter, where you'd have a record to point at and say 'I did what you asked. I'm good enough.' The military seemed to lie about that just as much as anyone else.

She sighed, tossing the last heel of bread on the end of the burger to the table. If she had half a chance, she knew what she'd change. This could be better. Hell, her life could be better, if she could just re-write it a bit. Hell, re-write it a lot, and it'd be the ideal kind of life. She didn't hate the military, she just didn't like most of the bullshit that it pulled. Let her be in charge...

The stingray chuckled. Hell, if she was in charge, she'd have the range master under her desk, her dicks in his face, and then she'd see how well the little bastard could bark orders when he was choking on her cocks.

And that would just be the start. She'd always had thoughts about how the world should be run, and what she'd do if she was in charge. All it would take was...well, a hell of a lot more power than she had. A hell of a lot more than existed, for that matter. Didn't know why she kept dreaming about it, considering -

Something opened behind her, and she whipped around, pistol in hand. A black-edged portal loomed in front of her, and the waves of the ocean zipped by on the other side. She could smell the salt air, all but taste the sunlight on the other side.

The stingray's cheeks turned up in a smirk. The proper thing to do would be to call an alarm, to alert the officers that something was wrong. They'd lock the place down, study this thing, maybe eventually see if something could go through...

But since when did she care about proper?

Ailsa jammed her pistol back in its holster and - after kicking off her boots - leaped through. Time to see if she could still swim as well as she remembered.