When the blue bird of prey was traveling through the gaps of the hills, it was the first time that this landform was seen in Los Angeles on the weekend. The hills were covered with yellow grass, and you could see a few trees covered with green leaves on the hills. It was like an arc outlined by a painter who pulled up one by one from the ground. The afterglow of dusk seemed to be poked by someone's dye, and it also penetrated a world when the whole picture was changed, but it just perfectly rendered this time period.

This is the suburb of Los Angeles. In this natural territory without the bustling city of Los Angeles, the road winding along the hills seems to be a searchlight for humans to explore the entire world, moving forward with joy in the beautiful scenery.

Squirt.

The Raptor stopped on the side of the road, and Chekov turned around and said, "It's here."

"This is where I practice guns."

After a moment of silence over the weekend, he looked at Chekov with suspicion. He didn't think this bear was such a sentimental person.

"Let's go."

Chekov took the lead in walking out of the car, carrying the black canvas bag that he had been put in the car. He had seen it countless times on the weekend and didn't pay much attention to it.

This time, the order of the two of them changed. In the past, this bear followed the weekend, and he followed Chekov wherever he patrolled. Now, Chekov took him to the depths of the hills. It took him nearly half an hour to stop between several hills with particularly complex environments.

At this point, I was a little incomprehensible on the weekend. This was a place where hills were clustered. The large mountain bags were enough to block the sun hanging in the sky in the distance. The small mound was half a person high. In the front, back, left and right, there was only one corner of the hill that was stretched out from where the arc of the corner was left.

This is not a suitable place for training, it is almost the same to spend a blanket to have a picnic.

bump.

Chekov threw the canvas bag in his hand to the ground. The package that seemed to have not loaded many things made a dull sound after it landed on the ground. When Chekov squatted down, he reached out and pulled the zipper of the canvas bag. On the weekend, he actually saw a bunch of gun parts and nearly half a pack of bulk bullets. For a moment, he almost thought that the bear had snatched a certain arms dealer in Luo City.

The next second, Chekov reached out to grab the gun parts in the canvas bag, without any suspicion of showing off. It seemed that all the movements in his hand were like an instinctive reaction. The speed was not very fast, but it was so ordinary that he skillfully assembled a pistol: "For you."

Click.

When the magazine was pushed up by Chekov, he threw a Glock 22 over. Over the weekend, he reached out to catch the pistol that was flying in the air. Chekov's voice came again in his ear: "Fire a shot."

He followed Chekov to practice guns on the weekend. He knew that his shooting skills were not good. He also knew that in this strong rectification, there would definitely be a group of police troop cranes in the police team being cleaned up by this tough leader. He also wanted to wear this police uniform. He had to follow Chekov to complete the training table on the weekend. This was just the first day.

He raised his gun and looked ahead with a breath and concentration on weekends. He waited until his body entered a steady state before he breathed and looked for the sight...

Bang.

A gunshot was heard in the wild, and the gunman on the weekend retracted his finger that had touched the trigger in a violent shaking. Seeing a tuft of dust popping up at his feet, his whole right foot suddenly pulled up. His rhythm was obviously a beat slower than the gunshot, but his movements were as shocked as if the foot was trapped in a quagmire: "—uk!"

"You're fucking crazy!"

I stared at my eyes and roared over the weekend. The bullet mark was only ten centimeters away from the position of my right foot!

Chekov had an extra gun in his hand. He magically aimed at the bullseye he set on the weekend and assembled one. However, he never told him that he would shoot on the weekend, nor did he tell that he would assemble a second gun on the weekend.

"Why not shoot?"

"What's the problem?" said the weekend fingerprint: "Why don't you suddenly give me a salute, I - his - mother - may hit the damn ten rings."

Chekov, who was squatting there, raised his head and said seriously: "No, you must be off the target. You don't know what a gun is. How could you hit the ten rings under a huge pressure?"

“Bad talk.”

"Then tell me what the gun is?" Chekov asked.

gun?

What is it?

The moment this question came into my ears on the weekend, I felt like I heard someone ask what the ring was and what the potato was... But when Chekov gave the answer, the person with more than ten years of criminal police experience on the weekend was convinced.

"Do you know the gun?" Chekov asked again.

The answer to the weekend: "Glock 22... The gun is 282mm long, the barrel is 188mm long, the ammunition capacity is 15 rounds, the rifle is right-handed, and the entanglement distance is 400mm."

When Chekov said this on the weekend, he flipped through his bag for a long time, took out a Glock 22 instruction manual from a pile of bullets, and pointed to the crumpled paper: "Glock 22 is a brand, the things you are talking about are the data of this brand, and these things are combined together are products created by the experts in the arsenal, not guns."

I didn't understand it on the weekend.

"For users, the guy in your hand is not called Glock 22, but a gun. It is an extension of attack power. It is a total gun that must be controlled with a weight of 634g (excluding bullets). It is equipped with a 0.40in bullet with a bullet weight of 11.55g, and a muzzle kinetic energy of 469j."

I seemed to understand it a little over the weekend.

"The real meaning of guns is shooting; what people should master when using guns is precision."

"Zhou, your current shooting level is less than 50% when a gun battle occurs, because when you meet a gun-carrying criminal one-on-one and have to arrest the other party with the guy in your hand, you cannot hide under any cover. You have to rush out with your gun and shoot with the other party. In this way, if the opponent is better than you, you can only survive when the first shot hits the other party, and the probability of your hitting the other party is very low; if the opponent shoots first than you, your subconscious reaction is not to fight back when you lose the cover, but to look at the other party with the expression that seems to be bitten by a rabbit just now. It is as if you were looking at me just now; even if the opponent shoots slowly than you, you may lose the initiative under the huge pressure of 'the opponent will fight back at any time after you don't hit the other party'."

"The pressure is not different. In the shooting world, even if there is 1% trouble in your mind, then the result of this calculation formula is 100-1=0. Taking the license to the training base is also psychological pressure. In your current state, when you are facing the situation where you have to take the police uniform if you can't get the license, I think you might as well write a resignation letter yourself."

He was silent, his eyebrows raised in the shock and anger just now slowly fell, and the words came into his heart. He tore it apart and grabbed the coward who had been trying to hide.

Chekov held the gun in his hand, and he held it tightly: "The gun is not your courage. Zhou. The gun is not what makes you ensure that you are equipped on the same level when facing criminals. Your courage is your confidence. You have to be confident that when locking the criminals, the other party will only show their courage. No one is afraid of death. I know you have killed the murderer with your bare hands, but do you remember it? It is not in a gun battle, it is in a hand-to-death battle. You have no time to think, and there will be no pressure and worry."

"It's different to use a gun. The gun creates a distance between you and the gangsters. You have time to think about whether to dodge or shoot. You even have the right to make a decision when you watch the prisoner run away or rush forward to kill him. This is the pressure."

"The guy who taught me to shoot told me, 'If a soldier takes pressure to go to the battlefield, he will never come back alive', but my experience tells me that if you don't have the absolute confidence to kill your opponent before going to the battlefield, you will not be able to control the gun at all."

"It is ten thousand times more difficult to control the bullets flying out than to control the fists that raise their hand to shoot out. Just like our patrol, I will never know that the thirty-two dollars lost in the supermarket in my jurisdiction were stolen by his son. At that time, I was going to rush out and arrest all the gangsters on the street to interrogate them one by one, and you can tell at a glance. This is confidence."

No one expected that Chekov's theoretical world was as simple and crude as himself. He had no good or evil in his heart, nor did he make the most basic excuses for the gun and the user. His words used the simplest language to explain the entire understanding of a war machine of guns, which was extremely insightful.

"Your problem is not that you can't shoot, you don't know how to shoot."

Chekov stood up, reached out to take the weekend gun, and raised his arm to the position he was aiming at with the gun: "Don't move, look at your hand."

Looking at his hands raised flat on the weekend, he found that when he didn't hold anything, his hands actually floated very slightly when he raised flat on the side. Then Chekov put the pistol into the gap between his hands. At that time, the floating hands began to change significantly on the weekend. The weight of the Glock 22 is not only 634 grams, not counting as bullets!

In that second, weekend completely understood that as long as the gun is deviated from one millimeter under the control of the gunman, it will cause a considerable deviation after the bullet flies out of thirty meters... Without confidence, this subtle error alone can kill a person, and that person is likely to be himself.

"Come on the other hand, Zhou. Your muscles cannot bring you enough confidence, and a month cannot make you a sharpshooter. The confidence in the moment of life and death is accumulated by muscles that can support control and the ten rings played in repeated shooting training. No genius can escape this boring and boring process."

"Don't worry, according to my training method, I can let you get back to the training base license in one month. After half a year, you will dare to chase the bandits with a gun. For a year, when you persist in training for a whole year and look back at your current self, you can see the gap at a glance."

It was discovered on the weekend that Chekov and Matthew were completely two extremes. Matthew's political career made him so advanced that he could sit on the bow of the boat to play with power no matter how big the wind and waves were. Chekov could show his bloodthirsty desire in the rain of bullets because he understood all the rules in this world, but his opponents might not understand it.

Looking back carefully... Someone seemed to have taught him these things, but the longer he became a policeman, he would forget them thoroughly. He was like a man living at the bottom of society in his thirties and could never remember what the first math formula he learned in junior high school.

He remembered that before he came to the United States or when he had not become a real policeman in China, some people told him these theories at the police academy, but human nature made all this besides the weekend.

People are too smart. Once they find that pearls and jade are in front of them, they will always look pessimistic. Often, a leader in the same field will make most people become lazy. This laziness is called "What's the use of hard work? Can you still be better than who can do it?" In fact, many industry advocates defeat most of these "smart people" with their superior results. The "smart people" who cannot see the future development choose another path without knowing that they can go further than the "superior". The end of the other path says failure.

This is the power of fate. Your "unconfidence" gives you the opportunity to withdraw from the competition. When you have no idea what the final result will be, you personally hand over the winner's medal to others, and maybe even give a compliment.
Chapter completed!