The beautiful daily life of Black Light Salted Fish

It's a sunny day.

The scenery in front of me began to recede.

Watson touched the control stick between his legs. It wasn't his turn yet, so he could only wait for the plane to taxi and accelerate. This "Bulldog" propeller trainer aircraft has a side-by-side two-seater design, and you can clearly see the pilot's operations just by turning your head. At this moment, the opponent has pushed the throttle to the top, and as the seat trembles slightly, the body is quickly filled with a sense of lightness.

The wheels have lifted off the ground.

The bubble canopy of the "Bulldog" was very large and provided excellent visibility. Watson saw the pilot flicking the control stick and the entire fuselage tilted flexibly, without the clumsy and slow feeling of a large passenger aircraft. Of course, small trainer aircraft have always pursued controllability and can often perform most of the actions of aerobatic aircraft. Having already received the customer's life-threatening request, the pilot let go of his hands and feet and immediately performed two barrel roll maneuvers after reaching altitude.

"How do you feel, kid?" He turned around and saw Watson picking his chin. He raised his eyebrows and nodded: "Oh, you look good. I have carried many passengers before, and some people simply can't stand me flying like this."

"I have no problem, Mr. Mullen, you can do whatever you want."

"That's what I want to hear."

As soon as pilot Mullen pulled the control stick, the nose of the plane immediately tilted upward. When it was almost vertical to the ground, Watson noticed that he had tightened some throttle, and then the entire plane began to tip backwards. The horizon flashed past the eyes, and the green mountains below vaguely appeared. At this time, the "Bulldog" was already in a vertical dive state, and its speed accelerated sharply visible to the naked eye.

"Are you ready?"

Before the words in the earphones ended, Mullen pulled the joystick to pull up the nose of the aircraft and continued to complete the internal loop flight. At this moment, Watson felt a strong G force pulling his body downward. This was somewhat similar to riding a roller coaster in his previous life. The blood circulation in the brain was delayed by hypergravity for a short time, causing the whole person to suffer from dizziness. But after all, roller coasters have to take into account the human body and not be too exaggerated. But small planes are completely different. The ride just now is enough to make ordinary people faint briefly.

Of course, for the black light body, this impact is minimal.

"You've surprised me now. Most people can't stand what you did just now. You are very talented, kid." While controlling the plane, Mullen still had enough energy to turn his head to observe Watson's reaction, and once again flew several high altitudes. After the overload action, he took a deep breath: "It's a pity that the performance of this Bulldog is not good. Those few shots just now were its limit, but they were not mine. After landing, we can transfer to the jet. If you want me Say, that’s the real challenge.”

"So now I can operate?"

"Wait a minute, let me get a little higher... Okay, let's start with controlling the rudder surface." When it came to teaching, pilot Mullen quickly returned to the calm mode: "I know your first It may be exciting to fly an airplane for once, but this is an old training aircraft, so don’t make too much overload maneuvers, otherwise it may fall apart in the air, do you understand?”

"clear."

Watson held the control stick and pushed the rudder with his left foot, and the fuselage immediately had an obvious turning trend. The sound of the engine changes with the increase or decrease of the throttle. Although it is still rumbling, it is no longer annoying. Before this, Watson had been taken into the sky by the levitating cloak several times, but now that he was driving the plane through the clouds, he still felt a completely different kind of pleasure.

"Take your time, don't be in a hurry." Mullen is very experienced in teaching, and his voice is unhurried: "Back off a little, and pay attention to the coordination of your hands and feet. In fact, flying a small plane is very simple. The most important thing is these three things. But some people tremble all over just sitting down... Very good, you have started to get used to it, I will tell you that you are very talented."

Strictly speaking, it is not in compliance with safety regulations to let a person with little flying experience grasp the joystick, but this small airport largely serves the wealthy. Mullen has received many rich people, and he has long been accustomed to guests thinking about things in the sky. You have to do this kind of thing yourself. And compared with them, this beautiful boy seems much more pleasing to the eye, polite, patient and full of patience.

The point is, he's really talented.

As a retired fighter pilot, Mullen is well aware of the ability of normal people to withstand overload. As long as they are trained properly, most healthy young people can achieve improvement in this area, but there are still a very small number of people who are naturally stronger than their peers. To a certain extent, flying a plane is just like driving a car. Not everyone can do it well, and the former is naturally countless times more demanding.

Therefore, talented players are even more precious.

"Hey! Boy, how about we go back early?" Mullen suddenly became interested and patted this beautiful boy on the shoulder: "Propeller planes are just that. If you really want to have fun, you have to watch the jets. Change the plane as soon as possible. You can also play two more laps in the sky. Of course, I have to make it clear in advance that if I feel it is dangerous, I will take back the control at any time."

......

evening.

A Rolls-Royce Phantom V slowly drove into the Carter family manor. Watson thanked the old butler Griffith and walked along the steps into the main entrance of the house. A burst of gunfire soon reached his ears, and Watson was not in a hurry. He went around to the kitchen to get a carton of fresh milk from the refrigerator, and then turned to the passage leading to the backyard.

Sure enough, Michela and Mrs. Carter were shooting targets.

boom!boom!boom!boom!boom!

Ms. Butterfly Knife used an AR and fired five times in a row to pop several balloons more than ten meters away. Mrs. Carter, on the other hand, took a Lee-Enfield bolt-action rifle and waited for Michela to end the round with a smile. Then she picked up the gun, took a few slow breaths, and then lightly pulled the trigger. The distant balloon burst.

It's almost 30 meters away, right?

Watson drank milk while walking down the steps. There was still some distance between the two sides, but he had already discovered that the two women were using mechanical sights. That is to say, the size of the balloon is relatively large. Otherwise, with the eyesight of ordinary people, it would be very difficult to shoot a regular competition gun target with a mechanical sight at this distance. In a previous life, some people felt that the distance of the 10-meter air rifle in the Olympic Games was too short, but that was based on the human body as a reference. As long as he visited the scene in person, he would realize how small the target was.

"You're back? How was your flight?"

Michela noticed her boyfriend first.

"I did an extreme inner loop flight and knocked the instructor unconscious for a few seconds. He didn't even have time to grab the control stick." Watson shrugged and leaned his elbows on the table: "He kept scolding me on the way back, but when he got off the plane Later, he asked me if I was interested in going to the Royal Air Force to participate in the selection, and he had an old officer who could help me contact me."

"You are not British." Michela sneered, then took a document bag from the table and threw it to her boyfriend: "But you can be now, thank you dear Ms. Paige, we are both legal now British people."

Glancing at the smiling old lady, Watson looked at the ID and felt a little emotional for a moment. The documents for the legitimate British girl Jessica Miriam Drew have not yet been obtained, but the documents for the fake British boy Watson Carter have been obtained. It can only be said that although the Carter family is withering, it can be processed The certificate is still easy to obtain.

But if Mrs. Carter is gone...

"I thought you would be late for dinner." Peggy came over and hugged Watson, smiled and touched his face: "There is still some time now, do you want to join our game? Speaking of which, after World War II, I I’ve never seen you shoot again. I really miss the days when I took you to the shooting range. I hope you won’t waste what I taught you.”

"Happy to perform."

Watson kissed the old lady on the cheek and walked over to pick up the Lee-Enfield: "I'll just use this gun. Set up some balloon targets for me. If the distance is... 50 How about rice?"

"50 meters?"

Peggy laughed and turned to tell the maid. Soon, more than a dozen colorful balloons were floating in the distance.

Seen from this distance, it's really just a bunch of tiny dots.

Compared to those targets, Watson paid more attention to the weapons in his hands. The wooden gun body is covered with scars, and the surface of the bolt mechanism and barrel are also mottled and flawed, and even the inscriptions can no longer be seen clearly. There is no doubt that this is a real old guy. Considering Paige's service experience, there is a high probability that it came from the battlefield.

"This was the favorite weapon of a commander of mine back then." Seeing the look in Watson's eyes, the old lady's eyes trembled with wrinkles, and her eyes gradually filled with memories: "His marksmanship was very good and he taught me a lot. It's a pity that he later Unfortunately, he was killed in action. I have always kept his gun, but unfortunately as an intelligence officer, I will not often use it in operations."

"Obviously, it's still pretty good."

After checking the magazine, Watson first hit a few closer balloons, and then pointed the gun at the first distant target. Old-fashioned firearms not only have a sense of age in appearance, but also have a unique smell of gunpowder, and even the recoil is somewhat unique. Watson stared at the slightly swaying balloon at the end of the crosshair, gently pulled the trigger, and a bullet came out smoothly.

Shot empty.

"It seems he has a bad temper."

Smiling at the two ladies, Watson raised his gun again, and this time he hit the target accurately. Old Mrs. Carter put down the telescope and looked a little surprised. She was really not sure whether the beautiful boy's shot was just a matter of luck. But then, Watson reloaded the bullet and broke her doubts with actual performance.

boom!boom!boom!boom!boom!

The intervals between the gunshots were almost exactly the same, and the balloons popped one after another, creating a strange rhythm. More than ten seconds passed, and the backyard of Nuoda was silent. Michela was the first to break the silence: "Look, I just said that Watson's marksmanship is very good."

"Indeed... I'm very impressed." Old Mrs. Carter clapped her hands and exclaimed: "Watson, you always surprise me. Where did you practice shooting?"

"Literally, a battlefield."

Watson put down the gun and looked at the patina on the handguard: "I really hope the gun used to shoot the Red Skull can be as reliable as this old guy."