Blackstone Gun Range Novels & Stories

Regina's POV “So how do we start?” I was more excited about using a gun than the physical combat we had earlier. Derek reached for a black bag inside the truck before leading me to a hill, then he unpacked the guns inside the black bag and reassembled them. I looked around the field and seeing the amount of target stands lined up from different angles made me realize where we were. “Is this--” I started, but he cut in. “Yes, an outdoor shooting range. You'll practice here, so give it your best. If you want to show me that you're truly ready, then you better put in your best,” he said sternly as he handed the gun to me.

But it felt… good. Empowering. At one point, I knocked him off balance—accidentally, of course—but I didn’t let it show. He narrowed his eyes at me like he wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or concerned. Then came the part I’d been both anticipating and dreading. Shooting practice. Adrik walked me through a hallway I’d never noticed before, keying in a biometric code. A heavy door hissed open. The gun range was built underground—state of the art. Soundproofed. Slick steel walls, bulletproof panels. A row of targets stood at the far end, shaped like silhouettes.

I think my disappointment will be much worse if that were the case, not because I don't like animals, but it isn't exactly a good way to blow off steam. Well this… I don't know what to make of it. “The place is good and ready to be used, Shark.” Obren's voice resounds. I cut my eyes to him, watching him edge back to the front gate. The range is an open space with the targets set several meters away from the shed, standing tall and unshaken even as the sun blasts off of it. As Obren's footfall fades, I turn to Michael with my hands resting on my waist, head cocked aside.

33 A1 Shooting-Range was just off the Barnet By-Pass. I lay at the five hundred metre firing point at the range. The white peg in the grass beside said 4.4, and the same number was recurrent high up on the distance but above the single six-foot square target that looked no larger than a postage stamp to the human eye and in the May dusk. But my lens, an infrared scope fixed above my rifle, covered the whole canvas. So, I could easily differentiate the pale-blue and beige colours into which the target separated. The six-inch semi-circular bull looked as big as the half-moon that started to show low down in the blackening sky above the A1.

The entire feel was that the shooting arena balanced intensity with precision, creating a space where concentration and control took centre stage. Barry strolled back to her. He was an experienced gun owner, and now, he walked in carrying a .22 rifle and a case containing two pistols. With their hearing and eye protection firmly in place, they walked into the shooting area and found the lane assigned to them. The shell casings on the floor caught Bianca by surprise as they rolled underneath her feet.

The weapon was a beast, compact, lethal, designed for his company's black-market clients who demanded precision in chaos. He squeezed the trigger, bursts of rounds shredding the paper targets at the far end of the enclosed range. Bullet casings ejected in a hot cascade, clinking against the concrete floor. Satisfied with the recoil and accuracy, Ronan lowered the gun, flipping up his goggles to reveal piercing green eyes that scanned the damage. 'Effective,' he muttered, the word barely audible over the fading echo.

Bryan shot his pistol three times, then pressed the button on the wall which drew his human cardboard target closer to where he was. “Not bad.” Kimberly shouted in the midst of the gunshots from other shooters, who we’re practicing in the shooting range. His target had a hole on the side of its head, on a shoulder and in the middle of its torso. “My turn.” She said after replacing the bullet ridden target with a new one, and pressing the button on the wall, which pushed it away till it got to forty meters away from where she stood.

“I think I’d feel less insane if I had something normal to focus on that wasn’t dead fathers or watching cameras.” Something in me eased at the offer. “Alright. Teach me.” We ended up in the mansion’s private range the next afternoon, a space hidden behind the wine cellar that I hadn’t known existed until Ethan led me down to it. He handed me an unloaded weapon first, walking me through the basics with more patience than I expected.

The whole training arena almost equalled the size of a stadium. Synchronized thuds echoed as multiple men jogged along the extremes of the wide courtyard. The training center, a yolk of several portions dedicated to practice of different weapons. The shooting range, filled with loud bangs from different guns and the scent of gun cleaning solvent apparent. Grey stood in its midst with a certain dislike for every single detail. He was one for Knives, Crossbows, Swords or Sabers, a Morningstar once when he was improvising but guns he hated. His irritation grew to his face as he watched young trainees shoot and miss the targets multiple times, their instructors tired of given the same instructio

I wasn’t built like that. After our third lap, I was finding it really hard to breathe but Justin said that we were finally done with that work out so I could take the pack off and I grabbed my water bottle and we started slowly walking towards the shooting range. Now, that is something I was looking forward to. Standing still while firing a gun. I could do that all day long. “So, what sort of bullets do we use here?” I whispered. And Justin looked around to make sure no one was near us.