Shooting course: Alex vs Angelina

[Same Day] [Private Gun Range, Brooklyn] [1:14 PM]

The echo of gunfire rang through the open-air shooting range. 

Rachel bought the place a few months back just to practice her aim, and it came in handy today.

Angelina Jolie stood at the center of lane four, arms extended, eyes locked down the sights of a matte-black Glock. Her stance was clean. Her shoulders were relaxed. She exhaled as she squeezed the trigger again. The shot cracked through the air, and another hole punched into the paper silhouette twenty feet out.

'Hell yeah!' She did a quick celebration in her head. 

She shot once more, and it missed the chest mark, hitting the arm.

'Darn it! So, close.'

John stood a few feet behind her in a black suit, arms crossed, and expression unreadable. He had been observing her every move and tension since she started.

Angelina reset her stance and lowered the gun slightly. She was sweating just a little under her tank top, her hair tied back, strands starting to come loose.

"Too slow on the recovery," John said, stepping forward. His voice was calm as usual. "You're aiming well, but your follow-through isn't smooth. Keep the wrist firm and pivot from the elbow."

She nodded and reset. "Got it."

They reset the target sheet with a fresh one. Angelina took a step forward, raised the gun again, and let off three quick shots.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

The middle two clustered near the center. The last hit a little high.

John took another step closer and tapped her right forearm gently with his knuckle. "You're tightening your grip when you anticipate recoil. You don't need to overpower it. You need to flow with it."

Angelina glanced over her shoulder. "So let the gun lead the dance?"

John cracked the faintest smile. "No. You lead. You just stop stepping on its toes."

She smirked, raised the gun again, and fired two more rounds. This time, both were solid hits near the center mass.

"That's better," John said. "Now let's work on reload under pressure."

They moved to the next station. A setup with foam pads, cover props, and a timed reloading mechanism. John handed her a fresh mag and a stopwatch.

Angelina took a breath, then nodded. "Ready."

He hit the timer.

She ducked behind cover, ejected the magazine, swapped it out clean, popped back up, and landed two shots on target.

John checked the timer. "Three-point-seven seconds."

"Is that good?"

"It's acceptable."

Angelina blew out a breath and stepped back, rolling her neck. "I haven't done live training like this in years. It's not like riding a bike."

John tilted his head. "No. It's like riding a bike while the bike's on fire and someone's shooting at you."

She laughed. It was short, rough, but genuine. She leaned against the partition, sipping water from a bottle Rachel had stocked earlier.

"So, what are you? Ex-Military? Retired cop?" She asked.

"No. I'm just a security guy with a bit of experience under my belt," He replied politely. 

After shooting for another ten minutes or so, it was time for the next part.

John crouched by the bench and opened a matte gray case. Inside was a disassembled SIG Sauer P226. Angelina stepped closer, towel slung around her neck, her hair still slightly damp with sweat.

"Gun assembly now?" she asked, resting her hand on the edge of the table.

John nodded. "If you're playing an assassin, you need to know your tools. Disassembly and reassembly under stress are as important as the aim. Most people fumble when it counts." He picked up the slide and barrel, his movements smooth and practiced, as one would expect from John Wick. "This is your slide. Here's your recoil spring. Barrel, guide rod, and the frame." He laid them out again for her to follow. "We'll start slow. One part at a time."

Angelina moved next to him and watched carefully as he began reassembling the gun. He talked through each step in detail, hands moving in sync with his words.

"This is the guide rod. Insert it here, forward motion, then pressure down. Snap it in."

She mirrored the motion with a practice set he handed her. Her brow furrowed in concentration, lips pursed slightly as she tried to match his pace.

"Like that?" she asked, holding up the half-assembled frame.

John checked it and gave a curt nod. "Good. Just remember the rhythm."

Angelina nodded and tried again, faster this time. There was a clack as she clicked the slide into place. She looked up, eyes bright with a little flicker of pride.

"That felt better."

"Almost smooth," John replied. "Another ten times and it will be."

She smiled faintly.

The heavy door to the range opened.

"Hope I'm not late."

Angelina turned, and there he was.

Alex walked in wearing a navy fitted shirt, black tactical pants, and a simple pair of mirrored range glasses hanging from his collar. 

'God, help me! He is so freakin' handsome,' Angelina thought, but quickly gathered herself and stopped her imagination from running wild. She kept her face composed, only allowing a small lift at the corner of her mouth.

"You're right on time," John said, nodding.

"Wow! She looks as beautiful as ever," Alex said, meeting Angelina's eyes with a warm smile that held a spark. "Looks like you've already been hard at work."

She tossed her towel over her shoulder. "Figured I'd get a head start. Didn't want to get shown up."

Alex stepped forward and glanced down at the gun on the table. He picked up the assembled SIG, checked the chamber with fluid ease, then set it down again.

"Nice work," he said to her. "Rachel told me you've been killing it."

"Trying," she replied. "It's been a while since I trained like this. But I'm not going into this half-baked."

John handed Alex his own set. "Let's see what you've got."

Alex didn't respond immediately. He knelt beside the bench, opened his case, and began assembling the same model. He worked quickly, managing to put it together in under ten seconds. Angelina watched quietly with her arms crossed. Well, she was looking at his calm expression as the memories of their kiss flashed before her eyes. 'Go away, go away. Not now. Why am I even thinking about that? That was just a spur-of-the-moment. Haaa...' 

John checked the finished piece and nodded. "You're good."

"I used to hit the range every now and then," Alex said casually.

Angelina tilted her head. "So it's official then? You're really doing this?"

Alex looked at her and smiled again, this time more open. "Yeah. I'm in. You and me. Mr. and Mrs. Smith."

She let herself smile fully now. "Good. I was hoping you'd say yes."

He gave her a mock-serious look. "Why? You think you can take me in a fight?"

"I don't think," she replied as she picked up her weapon and checked the safety. "I know."

John stepped between them before the flirtation turned into something else. "Let's keep the sparring verbal for now. Next up are mobility drills. Run and shoot. Angelina, you are up. I've set up the targets and obstacles. Shoot the marked points as fast as possible."

Angelina stepped up to the course John had laid out. A series of plywood walls, low barriers, hanging targets, and narrow shooting lanes stretched out in a zigzag path. Red tape marked the spots where she had to stop, aim, and fire.

She rolled her shoulders, tightened her ponytail, and took a deep breath.

"Ready," she called out.

John stood by the timer switch. "Go on the beep. Run, shoot, move. Clean shots only. No spray and pray."

Alex stood to the side, arms crossed, watching with a mix of interest and admiration. His eyes followed every motion: how she leaned into her steps, how her form stayed tight even at a sprint, and how she kept her elbows tucked just right.

The timer beeped.

Angelina took off down the first stretch, ducked behind the low wall, and fired two clean shots. The metal plates behind the paper targets clanged as they dropped. She moved again, her steps light but quick. She slid behind the second wall, pivoted, and fired three more shots. One clipped the edge of the target, but the others hit the center.

She didn't slow down. She vaulted over a waist-high barrier, landed with a hard breath, and dropped into a crouch behind the final obstacle. Her chest rose and fell quickly. Sweat had formed along her brow. She raised her Glock and fired the last two shots, both hitting dead center.

The buzzer sounded again.

She lowered the weapon, panting but smiling. "That felt good."

John checked the time. "Twenty-two seconds. Two off-center hits. Not bad at all."

Alex walked over and offered her a water bottle. She took it, grateful, and took a long drink. "You're fast," he said. "And focused. I'm glad we're partners and not enemies."

Angelina gave him a sideways glance. "You sure we're not both?"

He grinned. "Guess we'll find out."

John reset the targets and waved Alex over. "Your turn."

Alex took his place at the starting line, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. He didn't look tense. He looked ready.

John raised the stopwatch. "Same rules. Don't think. React."

Alex gave a small nod.

The beep sounded, and he was off.

Alex moved fast. He slid behind the first barrier and fired two shots. Both hit clean. He moved again, tighter through the corners than Angelina had been, and shot from a lower stance. His shots were quick but measured.

He didn't slow down at the jump. He cleared it cleanly, rolled on the landing, and came up already aiming. Two more shots, both dead on. Then he stepped across the final tape mark, raised the gun, and nailed the last target with a single shot to the head.

The buzzer sounded.

Angelina raised her eyebrows. John looked at the timer.

"Fifteen seconds. No misses."

Alex smiled, breathing steadily. He wasn't even tired. He asked, "How'd I do?"

John gave the slightest nod. "Better than most of my guys. You're smooth under pressure. No wasted movement."

Angelina shook her head, impressed. "Just you wait! I'm gonna catch up."

He walked past her, brushing her shoulder slightly. "Whatever you say, Mrs Smith."

She watched him head back toward the bench, her gaze lingering a little too long before she turned away.

John walked over and started arranging the next set of drills. This one involves moving targets.

"Do you need a break?" He asked Angelina.

"Nope. I can go another two rounds," She said with a thumbs up. 

Alex turned from the bench after taking a sip of water and walked back toward the range where John was adjusting the new setup. He looked over at Angelina, who was already bouncing lightly on her heels, still high on adrenaline. Her eyes burned with competitive fire, her cheeks flushed from the workout, and her lips curved into a half-smile that dared him to challenge her again.

He slowed to a stop beside her, folding his arms across his chest.

"How about we make this interesting?" he said, voice low and casual.

Angelina raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? What do you have in mind?"

Alex pointed to the range, now loaded with moving targets that glided along thin rails in unpredictable patterns. "Five rounds. Run-and-shoot, timed. Score tracked by accuracy and speed. Winner gets to ask the loser for one thing."

Her expression sharpened with curiosity. "One thing?"

He nodded. "Just one. But the fun fact is that there are no limits. Anything goes."

Angelina's lips parted just slightly. Her brain short-circuited for a beat. The phrase 'no limits' bounced around in her head like a spark in dry grass. She tried to play it cool, but her imagination had already sprinted into dangerous territory.

Her mind flashed images she couldn't stop. Alex's mouth trailing down her spine. His voice in her ear saying 'mine'. Her on top of him, going for another kiss like that day.

She caught herself and shook her head lightly. 'Focus, Angie. For God's sake, focus.'

She met his eyes again, hiding the flicker of heat behind a teasing smirk.

"Alright, Mr. Smith. You've got a deal."

Alex grinned. "Shake on it?"

She stepped in close and shook his hand. "You better be careful what you wish for."

"Oh, I already know what I'm wishing for," he said, locking eyes with her just a second too long.

John cleared his throat, a little louder than necessary. "You two can flirt after the fifth round. Let's get started."

Angelina stepped up to the line. "Ladies first?"

"By all means," Alex replied, gesturing with a slight bow.

John reset the course and raised the timer. "Round one. Ready?"

Angelina raised her Glock, body tensing, eyes sharp.

"Go!"

She took off, weaving between barriers. The moving targets zipped across the range. She fired, pivoted, dropped, and reloaded. Her shots were fast, mostly on target. One grazed a shoulder mark. Another clipped the edge of a rail. She cleared the course in just under twenty-four seconds.

"Damn it," she muttered, wiping sweat off her brow. "Too slow."

John glanced at the score sheet. "87% accuracy. Good pacing."

Angelina stepped back, breathing hard.

Alex stepped up, rolling his shoulders like it was just another day at the office.

"You ready?" John asked.

"Always," Alex said.

The beep came.

He was moving with the same speed as before. Each shot came like a decision already made. He ducked low, fired clean, and reloaded on the run. His last shot dropped the final target with a loud clang that rang through the air.

"Eighteen seconds," John announced. "100% percent accuracy."

Angelina narrowed her eyes. "You've clearly done this more than just 'every now and then.'"

Alex just winked and stepped back beside her. "One down."

They traded off through each round. Angelina tightened up her shots, shaved off time, and found her rhythm. Alex stayed consistently fast and accurate, almost annoyingly so. But he held back a bit, letting her get two wins, just to keep up her confidence. The fourth round ended with both of them neck-and-neck.

Before the final run, they stood side by side, guns in hand, both sweating, both keyed up.

"This is it," Angelina said, stretching her neck. "Last round."

Alex looked over at her. "Better make it count."

John raised the stopwatch. "Final round. Go."

Angelina moved fast. She has now become familiar with the course. She hit every shot perfectly. But two shots missed the marked point by a bit. Her breathing was heavier now, muscles burning, but she didn't let up. When she crossed the final mark, she nearly collapsed against the barrier, panting.

Alex went next. But one shot, halfway through, went wide. It wasn't a total miss, but it hit the lower edge of the target instead of the center. He didn't pause. He kept going, finished strong.

John looked at both scores, reviewing the time and precision.

Angelina leaned in, wiping her forehead, eyes still on Alex.

"Well?" she asked.

---

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