Precise shooting—that was Old Jock's deepest impression of Lin Fan, and the entire regiment's as well.
As a veteran, Old Jock had naturally seen quite a few Astra Militarum shooting champions. Some were elite veterans like the Cadians, who had slept clutching guns since childhood. Others were emotionless machines like the Krieg, selected only after enduring the brutal wars of their homeworlds.
Of course, there were also Ratlings, who were naturally gifted at shooting and aiming. But they loved petty theft far too much. Whenever Old Jock saw those short fellows, he made sure to keep a firm hold on everything in his pockets.
Ratlings, yesyes!
But Lin Fan—or rather, Captain Soap's shooting skills—were simply absurdly outrageous...
He could heft a Heavy Bolter that no one else could even lift, the kind of machine gun that needed either a tripod or a vehicle-mounted turret to fire steadily.
While unleashing a furious barrage upon the enemy, he could keep every bone and organ in his body from being shattered by the immense recoil. More than that, he compressed that rain of death into a perfect arc.
Old Jock considered himself a veteran of many wars, and he had likely spent more time using weapons than some of the twenty-something youngsters who had only just joined the regiment. Yet he had never seen anyone keep a bolter so steady.
Not to mention Lasguns and every other weapon. During the regiment's last shooting competition, the Kasare Legion held a friendly contest with a regiment from a place called the Andy Sector.
The Andy Regiment's chosen shooter truly was accurate. Without relying on a scope, he could hit a target dummy eight hundred meters away with nothing but experience and the standard firing aperture.
In controlled bursts, nearly every shot in a magazine hit