July 15, 2004
This is a challenge response for the photo on Erins gen Martinfanfic list.
Shoot. Dont shoot.
Thats the drill. Thats the question.
But the answer?
Each year I qualify at the range. The firearms instructors shout out their commands, Ready on the left! Ready on the right! Ready on the firing line! Fire!
Of course I fire. I shoot. Thats about ninety percent of the day spent at the range shooting. Getting my center mass configurations. Or the head shots.
The other ten percent? Bullshitting with the guys, taking long lunch breaks, cleaning our guns Not shooting, but still not not shooting.
Yeah, back at the academy we went through the Shoot, dont shoot drill in Hogans Alley. The little, fake, flat, wooden cutouts of the bad guys and their guns interspersed with the little kids with their balloons, or the old ladies with their shopping carts, all programmed to pop out on you as you go through the little, fake, flat wooden town.
An old cop friend of mine told me that the first person to take out on Hogans Alley was the cameraman; to take the deduction. George was a good guy, but I didnt take the shot back then.
Maybe I should have.
Things arent so black and white. Theres no defining line between evil and good. Between shoot and dont shoot.
So where does that leave me? I dont fucking know. All I know is that Ive got some guy with a knife in front of me, threatening to kill the guy that kidnapped and raped his sixteen-year-old daughter.
Shoot. Dont shoot. Shit.
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