Spitfire stood with her hand on the Glock 41 Pistol, eyeing the weapon as though it were a strange alien artifact. The protective ear muffs made it easier to block out the shots fired from other gun owners on the local firing range.
Ray, she thought, I know what this weapon is from observing your use of it, but I don’t understand how it works.
<It’s a handgun, Spitfire,> Ray said, stuck in the back of his mind as Spitfire controlled his body. He still couldn’t get used to seeing her orange-coated hand holding his weapon. Luckily, he was the only one who could see the differences. Ray noticed the reflection of her pony head on the nearby metal divider and found it difficult to get used to how it conformed to his human body proportions. He’d yet to see what the rest of her half-human body looked like without his attire.
Keep your head on straight, Spitfire said as she caught ahold of what Ray was thinking. I’m not here for that. I’m your designated bodyguard by order of Princess Celestia. If I’m to ensure your safety, I need to understand how to best protect you in a way that minimizes harm to others while using the most efficient amount of force required.
Ray tried not to focus on his previous thoughts about Spitfire and looked at the weapon from her point of view. <You’re holding a Glock 41 pistol. It holds thirteen rounds of .45 caliber ammunition. I carry it more for intimidation than anything, but I’ve had to draw it on a couple of thugs this past year when you weren’t around. I’ve never had to fire it at anyone yet and I hope you won’t either. I don’t want to put you in charge of whether someone lives or dies.>
If that day comes, it will be my choice, not yours, Spitfire said. You’re in-charge of an entire world living in your head. We have to be allowed to take some responsibility in keeping you, and all of us, safe.
<I’m not okay with this, Spitfire. You aren’t trained to handle this weapon,> Ray thought.
Then teach me, she responded. She placed the gun on the counter of the shooting lane. Tell me what to do.
Ray couldn’t change her mind. She was far too strong-willed out of all the ponies who had the ability to take over his body. She was also military-trained, just like him. Out of all the others who had shared control of his body, Spitfire was the only one who sought direct instruction from him. He sighed internally and began.
<Let me start by teaching you safety. You see that crescent shape within the ring where your finger goes? That’s the trigger.>
I know what a trigger is, Ray. I’ve seen the basic operation of this weapon.
<I’m assuming you know nothing, Spitfire. Notice a small piece of plastic jutting out from the trigger like a tiny fin? That’s the Safe Action System. It’s a mini-trigger within the larger one. You have to depress the small trigger before the larger one will pull back and engage the firing pin to discharge a round. This means if you accidentally press the top or sides of the main trigger, it won’t fire unless you depress the small trigger first.>
So how is that considered safe? Spitfire asked. I’m still pressing the trigger. It doesn’t really seem much different to me.
<It helps to prepare to fire the weapon without having a twitch reflex cause you to press the main trigger. Now pick up the weapon and keep your finger off the trigger for now. Make sure the barrel is pointed away from you and down at the ground as I explain.>
Spitfire held the weapon in her hand and stared downrange at the shadowy human form displayed on the paper target. Several circles were drawn on the chest and the head of the silhouette.
If I am correct, hitting a human target in those marked areas is considered a ‘kill-shot.’ I wish to learn how to disable a person, not kill them.
<Do you want to protect me or not?> Ray asked.
I don’t have to become a murderer to protect you. That is not my way, Spitfire said. Protecting you in prison will be exponentially harder, so keep that in mind.
<You have to prove your accuracy first by showing you can hit a designated target. For right now, I need you to show me you can hit those areas.>
Spitfire was quiet. Dutifully, she aimed the barrel towards the center of mass of the silhouette. She waited.
<I need you to fire two rounds into the target on my mark, one immediately after the other. Ready?> Ray asked. Spitfire nodded. <Fire.>
Spitfire depressed the triggers. The Glock fired at the target and recoiled a bit. Spitfire immediately fired a second shot and saw it move higher and off-center than the previous. She waited. Like that?
<That ‘jump’ in the gun? That’s called ‘recoil.’ It happens after every shot and throws off your aim if you’re not careful.> Ray could see down range very clearly. <You missed the center target both times. Your first shot hit the abdomen and the second shot didn’t even hit the target.>
Again? Spitfire said as she adjusted her aim at the target.
<I want you to fire two more shots, but wait a second between them so you can reset your aim. Ready? Fire.>
Spitfire shot once, waited, then shot again. The first one was closer, but the second one still hit the white spot of the target where no human silhouette was drawn. Better.
<I see what’s happening,> Ray said to her in their shared mind. <When you depress the trigger, you push down on the gun. You’re trying to compensate for recoil before it’s even happened and it’s throwing off your accuracy. I honestly wish you’d just let me do this.>
I need to practice, Spitfire thought.
<Well we both can’t practice at the same time, can we?> Ray asked.
Yes we can, Spitfire said.
Ray suddenly found himself holding the Glock in his hand as he stared in shock down at his body. He wasn’t human. His hands were still orange like Spitfire’s. He stared at his reflection and saw the pegasus head with wide eyes and open muzzle. Large wings splayed out his back in shock. “What the…”
<Calm down,> Spitfire said in his head. <This is called a ‘fusion.’ It’s a combination of both of us taking control of your body. I’m still ready to jump back in. I’ll experience a little of what you’re doing, but you’re in-charge of aiming and technique.>
How about a warning next time?! Ray thought. We’re holding a loaded weapon!
<I thought it had a safety switch you were so fond of?> Spitfire said.
Ray’s large expressive pony eyes narrowed at himself. It was as if he was talking to Spitfire through the reflection and seeing her face stare back at him, but he controlled it. He looked towards the target until he felt something swing behind him. He turned and stared. Spitfire…do I have a tail?
<Yes, but it’s not part of your physical body. It has no mass, but it is a part of my mind, since my tail is wired into my biology. If I feel it, you’ll feel it too.>
I’m starting to feel other differences as well…
<Focus,> Spitfire said. <Concentrate on your aiming and I’ll learn with you.>
Ray-Spitfire pointed the weapon towards the target. Ray’s muscle memory was perfect and he fired three shots in quick succession, hitting the center of the target twice and quick-switching to hit the head once. All three hit their marks.
<Show-off,> Spitfire said. Ray smiled her smile. <Slower next time. I need to see the technique.>
Spitfire and Ray continued for almost a half-hour. Ray taught the Wonderbolt Captain how to fire the weapon and in-turn she guided him through the most basic abilities of the fusion. Soon they got it down where Ray would aim and quickly switch over control to Spitfire, who would fire the weapon. Their system was so efficient that Spitfire soon got the technique down without any help at all.
Ray also noticed that she had started to mark paper targets with points on the hands, legs and shoulders. Her shots to each of these locations was dead-on.
<Spitfire,> Ray asked, <Were you purposely holding back on your shots because they were kill shots?>
Ray, it may be easy for you humans to commit such acts on each other, but in my training, we are taught every possible method to avoid lethal combat. If you let me do what I am trained to do, I guarantee you the casualty rate in any combat we experience will be zero.
Ray didn’t know what to say. He watched as Spitfire hit her non-lethal targets with near one hundred percent accuracy. She folded up the papers after marking them with her name and the date as she put them in Ray’s jacket pocket. I will keep these for future reference. To show my progress, she thought.
Ray found himself back in his body with his hand still on the paper in his pocket. He looked around as though he’d find Spitfire standing next to him. He could see himself as human once again. Spitfire? he asked mentally. No response. He kept trying to reach her as he left the shooting range and wondered where she had gone.
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