❝ Some things scratch at the surface while others strike at your soul. ❞
𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 her whole life to catching the monsters in this world in hopes of fixing something that is broken inside of her.
Tha...
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"The irrationality of a thing is not an argument against its existence, rather, a condition of it."
— Friedrich Nietzsche
➴ ➴ ➴ ➴ ➴ ➴
6.1 ; L.D.S.K.
THE SHARP RINGING OF the gunshot vibrated in Caroline's ears as Reid pulled the trigger of his gun, the long silver barrel aimed out in front of him. She tugged at her earmuffs and peered past Reid at the human-shaped target across the shooting range. The bullet hadn't even hit the black outline of the human body, but instead had pierced through the white background. Beside the recent bullet hole was five more identical rounds from his previous attempts from this morning. She heard Spencer sigh in disappointment.
She frowned and turned to Hotch, who was waiting for her assessment. She shook her head once and he sighed.
"On swat, we broke shots down into 3 steps," Hotch instructed as Reid reloaded his gun. "One—front sight. Focus on the front sight, not the target." Spencer nodded as he listened, concentrating intently to every word. "2—controlled trigger press. 3—follow through. After the shot, you come right back to the target. Now, what did you do wrong?"
"I didn't follow through," Reid muttered.
"Right. You came off the target to see where you hit."
"Hotch, my firearms qualification is tomorrow morning," Spencer groaned as he sat his gun down in front of him, clearly exasperated. "I barely passed my last one."
Caroline stared down at the target and sighed. They had been working on Reid's shooting technique for his qualification for two hours now and his margin of progress wasn't where it needed to be if he wanted to pass tomorrow. She remembered the last time he took the test and the only reason he didn't fail it was one lucky shot that he made when he was distracted. Since then, he had gotten better but not by much, which is why he asked Caroline for her help. It had been her decision to bring Hotch because, despite the fact he could be a drill sergeant, he had been the one who taught her how to fire a gun and how to do it accurately.
Now, she was a trained sniper and marksman. Hotch might be hard-ass, but he knew what he was doing.
Hotch moved Reid out of the way as he stepped up to the range. He pulled out his gun and his finger hovered over the trigger. "Front sight, trigger press..." The gunshot rang through her earmuffs as the bullet pieced through the head near the left ear of the target. "Follow through."
