D.J. choked through the mace, and squinted enough for his eyes to water, clearing his vision just enough for a tiny slit of vision.
D.J. made his way over the wall, and dropped down on the other side. The awkward landing in the sand caused him to stumble forward, but he rolled and kept on his feet.
He rushed into the next area, only to bump into one of the punching bags.
"Damn it!"
D.J. launch a quick jab, hitting the bag. He heard a whistle, and turned toward it. The bag hit him in the chest, but he managed to keep his grip on it. Rushing down the path, his eyesight finally started to clear to the point where he could hold his eyes open for a few seconds before he had to blink.
D.J. lifted the BR in his hands, and dropped to a knee in the shooter's box. He fumbled a bit to slide a mag into the mag well, and slammed the bolt closed. He leveled the rifle and aimed down the sight. Blinking through the mace, he could make out the red dot on the head of the paper target.
D.J. exhaled, squeezed the trigger, and the rifle kicked in his hands.
His first shot was dead on target, but the other two in the burst missed completely.
He fired another burst, aiming for center mass this time. the first shot hit the targets center of mass, and the second hit it's throat, with the third sailing over completely.
He emptied the mag, stopping once to clear a jam, with much the same result, accurate first shot, and trailing off with the rest.