Spy Academy discussion

Carries a wide variety of guns

Enola entered the shooting range, staring silently at the guns hanging from racks. She took a shaky breath, eyeing them each

((Hmmm... What's the security like?))

Zlatan entered the range. It seemed that few people came here, and that was why he had. It seemed a safe location.

Tara strutted in. She decided to train to shoot with more skill than she had before. Tara was never really that skilled in shooting things. Holding up a small pistol she aimed at the target silently and shot one round, the bullets grazing the 4-6 points range. She re-loaded.

Already twitchy from withdrawal, he jumped greatly when the bullets went off. It seemed he would not be alone. Maybe if he just stayed here, sitting against the wall, he wouldn't be noticed, and she would go away.

Her ears tuned into the sound of rustling fabric to cocked her head to the side, ever so slightly to spot a person hunched over by the wall. Tara turned back only to say while shooting. "Not a wise place to hide." She commented in her high British accent.

He was twitching frequently, and with severity. For some reason he didn't move, nor did he speak, of the mind that she would go away soon enough.

The corners of her mouth twitched up. Fools. She shot a bull's-eye. "You gonna talk?" She asked putting the gun down.

He shrugged. He knew that his voice would by now be shaky, and he didn't want to make his symptoms any more obvious than they already were.

Tara looked back at the person. He seemed overly twitchy. "Tell me your name, yeah?" She said prepared to walk over there.

"Zlatan" he replied, his voice as shaken as he'd known it would be. His twitches continued to escalate.

Tara looked at him up and down. Druggie. She was used to drugs as a kid growing up on the streets so she wasn't very surprised. "You do drugs, am I right?"

He shook his head vehemently, denying it outright, though his lie would easily be seen through with a simple glance at his left arm, were his sleeve rolled up.

She rolled her eyes. "What kind, meth, dope, molly?" She listed proceeding to sit right next to him and grabbing his arm with her skinny fingers. "You use a needle?" Injections made people high quicker but it is also more dangerous.

He attempted to slap away her hand, but he was weak from his body's crying out for drugs. He could not bring himself to answer her.

"Heroin? Coke?" She continued peering at the arm, looking for major signs of injections. "Where are the drugs?" She countered looking over his shoulder.

He remained silent, though twitching as she looked at his arm. The evidence was clear enough, he had done little to disguise his usage before he came to the academy. He shook his head violently when she demanded to know where his supply was. He turned to lean on the pocket which contained his next fix, hoping beyond hope she didn't find it.

"You do not want me to frisk you." Tara said with a chuckle. There was plenty of injection holes running up his arms. "You need your fix?" She asked tilting her head to the side when he leaned over. In his pocket? Smooth going.

Despite having denied being an addict, he now openly admitted it, as he nodded to needing his fix. He didn't know what she meant by 'frisk', but they way she said it, he didn't want to find out.

(( sorry busy hld up ))

Tara smiled. "Do you know drugs are dangerous? You could die." She stated dropping his arm and resting her head on the wall.

"I- I don't care." He said his voice and twitches clearly reflecting his desperate cravings.

"How did you start?" She said with a raised eyebrow. She did smoke once but that was back in England. She is way better now.

"Tell. Later." He said, though even speaking was now a struggle. He twitched and spasmed in agonising withdrawal.

She closed her eyes. "Go ahead." She simply said with a shrug. It wasn't her business if he wanted to kill himself with drugs.

He took the envelope from his pocket, and the needle from the envelope. His dexterity, however, had been so far impaired that he could not inject. He looked to her desperately for help.

Tara looked over at him with wide eyes. "I'm am not sticking a needle in your arm!!" She said taken aback.

He begged her with desperate eyes and shaking voice.

She will not be an accomplice to drug use! That's widely absurd. But Tara was an actually nice person. But drugs? Seriously?! She rolled her eyes and snatched the damn needle injecting the disgusting liquid into his veins. She stood afterwards disgusted with what she had done, and how expertly she had did it. Tara has done it before, help others use drugs.

Instantly he felt the effects. His pupils dilated. His heart-beat slowed. He felt calm, relaxed as a smile emerged on his face; which had ceased it's twitching. He felt warm, and safe, and wonderful. He felt as good as he had ever remembered being, if not better.

Tara looked at him with disgust. Seriously. He turns to drugs for comfort. "Good luck with that." She said rolling her eyes and shooting again at the targets.

He vaguely recognised her words, and slowly nodded. He slid along the wall until he was lying on his back, gazing up.

She shot the rounds with a disgruntled face, feeling a little sick.

Zlatan half murmured something, then tried to stand. He fell back as he did, and laughed quietly.

((Are we done here, then?))

Justin walks in and takes out his pistol and aimed at a target