A Thousand Yards [OPEN]

*BOOM*
*chink-chink*
"High and to the left!"
"Damn it", Cyrus let the curse escape his lips. He hoped his spotter, one of the infamous "cage birds" that tended to almost live on ranges like this. Their interest had been per-cued when he walked in with not one, but three long-barreled rifles, completely customized. One of them was a commission, an ornate Barrett M98 that he had built from the ground up for some bigwig.The other two, The DSR-1 and the APR...those were his. He had customized these things to the extreme, with Leopold scopes, recoil-eliminators. The works.
Including Suppressors, because APPARENTLY someone started complaining that they could hear it echoing...at the gates of Death City. Which makes the general populous unhappy. So they forced him to suppress these works of art, Turning their vicious, heart-rending roar into a timid, slightly less heart-rending thud. Though it still put the fear of god in anyone within twenty feet or so, just from concussive force.

He reloaded, his thoughts racing as to how in the world he was high and left. He was on his own gun, the DSR, which accurate at over a mile. A thousand yards was child's play for this weapon.Was he pulling? Probably, considering the fact that he had modified these to fire .50 cal rounds. And he was dreadfully out of practice. That was one of the main reasons he had come to the range this evening. He needed to hone his skills if he had any chance of killing a Kishin. He had just heard a story last night of one of the meisters here had been ripped to shreds on a mission. And he was Experienced, well trained and well armed. He'd have no chance if he slacked off.

He aimed down, right cheek against the cool metal cheek plate. He found his target, a single, three eyed wooden target, made to resemble Asura, that infernal Kishin. to be more specific, he wasn't aiming at the the target, but a good eight inches above his head, because even with the almighty .50 cal, Lady Gravity still had her sway on everything, large or small. Hopefully when she got done with the round it would hit his target, the small center of the targets middle eye.

He took a deep breath in, calming his heart rate. Right now Nothing else existed, except for him and his target. Nothing else in the world. Another deep breath. His heart now pounded in his ears.
*Ba-Doom, Ba-Doom. Ba-Doom*
He took one last breath.
*Ba-Doom...Ba-Doom...Ba..*
*BOOM*
The round flew downrange like a bat outta hell, streaking through the air and slamming through the target, leaving a perfect circular entry hole and a whole lotta splinters in its wake. The spotter looked down at the student, flabberghasted.
"Dead on"