Blackstone Gun Range Mga Nobela at Kwento

He had poured himself a Maker's Mark and grinned at the rim. Dan took Jade and me to the range that evening, where we fired five shots into the exact centre of the target. Three months of pay went into purchasing the gun, a Glock 19 that Dan had researched for longer than it had taken him to learn to fire. To buy it, I would have fasted for two months.

Even though I thought I had braced myself for the noise, the sheer vibration of a live pistol firing through the massive viewing glass walls was deafening. It was a gloomy Monday afternoon, but the lanes at the OC Indoor Shooting Range in Batangas were packed with a strange mix of families, couples, and friends all taking turns at paper targets. I had never stepped foot inside a firing range before today. A close friend of mine had suggested the trip, insisting that burning through a few magazines was the only way to forcibly shock my brain into forgetting my personal disasters for an afternoon.

Emine watched as a young recruit stealthily weaved her way through the obstacles, her movements almost ethereal, her body a silhouette in the shadows. Further along, she encountered an area where assassins honed their marksmanship skills. Rows of shooting ranges lined the walls, with targets of varying shapes and sizes. The sharp crack of gunfire punctuated the air as expert marksmen tested their precision and control. Bullet casings littered the floor, evidence of countless hours spent perfecting their deadly art.

“Pitiful.” “Good to know. Mak! Make sure we check in on our first few shipments of these once they’re delivered,” I call to my brother over my shoulder. “We don’t want disgruntled customers coming at us over plastic shit.” “You got it.” Mak salutes from where he’s finagling some wiring in the control booth. I don’t know what he found in disarray, but it’s enough to get him cursing under his breath. Pulya, this gun range, is one of Makari’s personally-owned businesses. He wanted something more original than a nightclub or restaurant.

(Third-person's POV) Two months had passed since the kidnapping incident that had left Natalie Silverstone with an injured hand. The trauma of that day had faded, replaced by newfound confidence and skill. At the shooting range, a silver bullet struck the target's center with remarkable precision. The clean shot punctured the bullseye, a testament to hours of dedicated practice. Natalie lowered her silver-loaded gun, removing her protective earmuffs and goggles with practiced ease. Her movements were fluid now, no longer carrying the hesitation of a novice. She turned to look at Florian Nightshade, who leaned against the railing with an appreciative smile playing on his lips.

"Thanks. I work out a lot and I hike several miles every weekend." "Ah. Let me tell you about this ammunition. This black box is the factory stuff. It's a 300-grain hollow-point and it'll do okay against most animals, except bears. If you are serious about elk and moose, you need to use this stuff. In these blue boxes are custom hand loads, they have a 335-grain solid lead bullet and will drop anything in North America out to 150 yards, and that includes grizzlies." "Okay, got it."

Her hair flying in the wind. I blinked. Maybe I was imagining things. By the time we arrived at the shooting range, I had forced the thought away. I stepped out, adjusted my suit jacket, and walked in. The sound of gunfire echoed through the large hall. Men in protective gear aimed and shot at paper targets. The smell of gunpowder filled the air. A man hurried toward me. “Mr. Blackwood,” he greeted nervously. “We’ve prepared the samples you requested.”q I nodded. We began talking about business, contracts, weapons, numbers. The usual that the police were trying so hard to apprehend me for.

Onyx smirked before diving for the kill again- me ! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Nox’s POV I took out my anger on the nature-made shooting range across the waterfall. It was only open for the higher-ups and the crashing sound of the waterfall muffled the sounds of gunshots and gave a wide range to practice across the banks without the fear of hurting anyone.

Claus asked as he played chess. Philip said, “It’s nothing. I just wanted to ask you about that blackstone.” Claus nodded and said, “The blackstone isn’t jade. Normal people don’t use it and can’t use it. This blackstone is similar to the raw material of the essence of life, which is a substance with a special energy that can only be developed by special institutions. For example, the Nonagon, the Supernatural Bureau, and some private research institutions outside the country. “Some weapons from the Supernatural Bureau are made from blackstone. They can be used to curb the power of the disciples.

Then she jogged upstairs to change clothes to meet Lacey. An hour and twenty minutes later, Layla and Lacey were walking into Tampa Guns and Range. The place was huge. As soon as they walked in, Layla saw guns everywhere — rifles, sniper rifles, shot guns, handguns, AKs, and scopes. The place also had bulletproof vests, sunglasses, crossbows, backpacks, and knives. “Can I help you ladies?” the man behind the glass casing at the end of the room asked. He had a buzz cut, and he was stout in stature.