"Pick out a prize, Snart." He doesn't move from his position, bent over, one eye closed and the other squinted down the crooked sight. It won't take a sharpshooter to hit the star- it's not even ten feet away. All he has to do is use a hundred shots to blast it from the paper. "Easy peasy."
He sizes up the target and squeezes the trigger. In less than ten seconds, he's lost all of his ammunition and half of the star is still hanging from the goddamn paper. He straightens up and chucks the air rifle back down on the table while the attendant comes over.
"You didn't give me enough bullets."
The guy laughs off the comment nervously and offers Mick another go at the game. Something changes in Mick's posture as he pulls out a couple more bills. He straightens up, and grins. "All I gotta do is get rid of the star?"
The attendant, glad to have a answer that he can pull from a script, goes through the same explanation again while he sets up the air rifle. Only, when he steps away again, Mick reaches for the gun at his hip instead of the one on the table. A bright streak of fire pushes its way across the booth, completely disintegrating the star, the piece of paper, and a significant portion of the booth behind it.
He turns to Len, grinning. "I think I got it, don't you?" The attendant curses and runs off, no doubt for some sort of fire extinguisher.
"Did ya pick out a prize?" The fire is spreading, and he turns back to admire it. "Better get it quick."
well that escalated quickly
He sizes up the target and squeezes the trigger. In less than ten seconds, he's lost all of his ammunition and half of the star is still hanging from the goddamn paper. He straightens up and chucks the air rifle back down on the table while the attendant comes over.
"You didn't give me enough bullets."
The guy laughs off the comment nervously and offers Mick another go at the game. Something changes in Mick's posture as he pulls out a couple more bills. He straightens up, and grins. "All I gotta do is get rid of the star?"
The attendant, glad to have a answer that he can pull from a script, goes through the same explanation again while he sets up the air rifle. Only, when he steps away again, Mick reaches for the gun at his hip instead of the one on the table. A bright streak of fire pushes its way across the booth, completely disintegrating the star, the piece of paper, and a significant portion of the booth behind it.
He turns to Len, grinning. "I think I got it, don't you?" The attendant curses and runs off, no doubt for some sort of fire extinguisher.
"Did ya pick out a prize?" The fire is spreading, and he turns back to admire it. "Better get it quick."