Gunsmith Part 4 Novels & Stories

"I'll have 9mm rounds and magazines placed in here too. I carry a .45 and so does Alex, so we've never had use for the smaller rounds up here." Before he can close the door to the safe, Gomez walks in. He doesn't look good. His eyes are bloodshot and his white dress shirt is wrinkled. He takes in everything, including the gun at my hip. He crosses the room, snags his arm around my waist, and pulls me in close. A normal guy would give a quick hug. Gomez noogies my hair. I slap him away with a laugh. Gomez laughs too and takes a chair, kicks back, and lifts an ankle across his other knee. "Okay, Jefe, what's the plan?"

The debris of our interrogation of Finchby remain as they were left: the chain and cuffs that fettered him, what remains of his clothes, the drugs; ampoules and syringes; originally his, that we used to keep him unconscious until we were ready for him to wake. Klempner is busy, dismantling a rifle. From the doorway, I watch in silence as, piece by piece, he disassembles it, cleans each part and sets it carefully down in an orderly line of parts. He seems to be working by rote, barely to be looking at the gun at all. His eyes are focused on some distant thing, his hands working apparently independently of his vision. He shows no sign of having realised I'm here. Sneaking up on him?

"Sure, come let’s go inside now" Niklaus talks into the com's "Guys how's this on your end?" "Coast is clear on this end, we about to head in" Bradshaw Says "Niklaus, Reign, you got two bogeys ahead" "One, two three" Reign counts They successfully killed the two guards. All four of them head into the meat factory / warehouse. They switch their weapons to submachine guns with suppressors (Silencers). They head into the building and the alarm is triggered, Raven asked

He took a little drag and threw the rest on the floor, he stepped on it twisting his leg sideways to make sure it was properly quenched. "So, you now pay taxes and all that?" Tom said with amusement on his face. "Yeah, what can a man do to have peace" Tom trailed Steel as they walked back to the wall of guns, Steel turned a cupboard that was just beneath the wall, it had four openings two on the front and two on the back also,. He brought out an MD-850 pure steel. "Here we go" he said handing the gun to Tom, sniffing in very hard. Tom held the gun felt iy material, he had to know. a lot of gun to thrive in his kind of job.

Both ceased to exist as the Gatling gun growled and the hull shook. The brutality of the action was like a bucket of cold water. The technician came off the bench, grabbed the power drill, and resumed her work. The motor produced a high-speed whine as the bit chewed its way down through quarter-inch steel plate. The metal was thin compared to the external armor, but thick enough for her. Coaster struggled to keep her balance as silver shavings curled up and away from the fourth hole. The bit surged as it broke through into the space beyond. Fifty caliber slugs hammered the hull and made it ring.

I steeled my spine, gave myself a mental pep talk and slowly crawled my way towards the case. It felt like eternity till I could touch the gun case. I slowly pulled it towards me, careful not to make any sound, and not to hit the middle leg of the bed. A quick inspection of the case revealed that it was a simple metal latch keeping it closed, I worried about the sound it would make if I released it. I grabbed a nearby shirt and wrapped it around the latch, hoping that it would muffle the sound and not wake Jax. All my movements were slow. Once the case was open, I carefully removed the gun. It took longer than I expected to remove the firing pin and reassemble the gun. I ensured that I put t

Dwelling on something that already happened wouldn’t bring me back my girl. Walking inside the walk-in closet, I punched in the codes for the vault behind the vanity mirror. Taking out the cal .44 Colt Walker Grandad has gifted me, I loaded the six chamber revolver with bullets whose sole purpose is for the death of our family’s mortal enemies, the Orlov’s. I have no doubt that they are behind this attack.

Gold held the glow and gave none back. They collapsed where there was room—against crates, beside amphorae, on bare stone that had once been a floor and might be a lid. Sean alone stayed up. He sat cross-legged at the cracked altar like a man who had come to make an argument with a god, the APMG Mark I field-stripped in a clean geometry before him. Barrel. Bolt. Trigger pack. Springs that remembered speed. The parts whispered in the lantern light, oiled menace laid out like liturgy.

I held it up for Luca to see. “Here it is,” I said, my voice even. Luca’s eyes narrowed as he stepped closer. “This is the gun?” “This is the gun,” I confirmed. Without another word, I walked back to my car and retrieved a hammer from the trunk. Placing the gun on a flat rock nearby, I lifted the hammer high and brought it down with a resounding crack. The sound echoed through the forest as the gun’s frame bent under the force. Strike after strike, I ensured the weapon was nothing more than a mangled mess of metal.

I turned to Stacey and went inside my unit, when I went inside I was still looking at the flashdrive I was holding. I breathed a sigh of relief as I never lost this flashdrive. I wonder who that man is. Why did he say that this unit belongs to him? Couldn't he just have made a mistake? I walked to my room to see if there was a separate gun part. Parts were scattered on my floor. The faster he disassembled the gun, he was obviously used to it. I picked up the gun and didn't know how to return it. I looked at the large picture displayed in my grandparent's bedroom unit.