Remnant 2 Double Barrel Novels & Stories

“To the left again. Avoid his sword hand. Use the puddle for momentum. Hard kick to the inside of his knee. Throw the smoke grenade.” There isn’t much time for me to prepare. I crouch and slide the grenade out of its slot in the tac vest. It feels different from the ones years ago when I was in the military. I give it a quick glance to make sure I’m not wrong about what I’m holding. It’s one our tech team created a couple of years ago. I’ve never used it, but they call it ‘The Double Blind’. I have three seconds after I pull the pin until it emits an intense flash of light and thick, black smoke. I slip my finger into the ring of the pin while I pick up Kas’s sword with the other hand and pr

Through the hidden briar gate, the leader of the Remnant made his entrance. I leaned against a timber pillar, narrowing my eyes as I took him in for the first time. He was wrapped in a massive fur cloak that made his shoulders look impossibly broad, completely concealing the shape of the reinforced chair he sat in. A deep, heavy hood was pulled so far forward over his face that it left everything above his jaw in dark shadow. But it wasn't the cloak or the chair that caught my attention. It was the leather. He wore thick, heavy dragon-hide gloves that extended all the way up his forearms, tightly buckled over the sleeves of his coat. Every single inch of his skin was completely covered. Not

"Look at the basin behind them, Kael! The mud-flats are a trap! If we drop our position on the high stone now, the secondary imperial infantry will re-form their ranks under the cover of that turret and pin us in the drainage ditches!" She didn't look back at him. Her amber eyes were locked entirely on the spinning brass sleeves of the multi-barreled pressure-cannon mounted to the sloped iron deck of the grounded Leviathan’s Core. The weapon was a masterpiece of capital malice. Six heavy brass barrels, wrapped tightly in coils of glowing alchemical copper wire, revolved around a central pneumatic cylinder that clicked rhythmically, clack-whir, clack-whir, through a network of overhead steam-

Their heavy barrel mechanisms slouched toward the earth, the red power rings circling their bases flickering out like dying embers. For three agonizing seconds, there was absolute silence. The citadel held its collective breath. Then with a deafening synchronized roar that shook the very foundations of the valley, the turrets hummed back to life. The heavy machinery groaned as the massive gun emplacements whirled around on their mountings, turning away from the borders and locking into a new unified defensive formation. The optical sensors at the tips of the barrels flared brightly, flashing away from Saed's dead, frantic red and solidifying into a crisp, lethal and unyielding Blackwood blue

Her eyes shining with joy, Beverly felt every inch of the rifle, her soft hands playing nimbly at each part of the firearm she was now holding. “The Barrett M82 (M82, also known as the" Light Fifty "because it uses .50 BMG caliber) is a semi-automatic, recoil-operated anti-material rifle using a .50 BMG (12.7 mm) caliber bullet developed by American Barrett Firearms Manufacturing. . This rifle was made in two variants namely the original version of the M82A1 and M82A3, the M82A2 was the bullpup version and was out of production, this bullpup variant was replaced by the XM500. Beverly explained at length.

She simply said pouting her lips mockingly. Damn those pink cherry lips that glistened under the basement light while she swept the tip of her juicy tongue across them. She pulled her lower lip biting it gently as if thinking hard about something. My lips itched to release her bottom lip and lip fuck her until she can't think about anything but me. "Tsk Tsk, I didn't want to do this to an old sick bastard like you." She said feigning pity while pulling a Glock 17 handgun. Spitting the blood from his mouth, Junaibar laughed as if it's nothing.

“Roofrat, what’s the emergency? Over.” Carson doesn’t hesitate to relay the bad news. A horde was coming. ____________________________________________________________________________ Two soldiers, Linum and Bart, went outside according to their superior’s commands. Linum carried a high-powered shotgun that would help him against nearby enemies, such as a horde of husks. Bart was equipped with a military-grade assault rifle which would help in the long and medium range. While they had their main weapons, the two of them carried standard gear but since the rebellion considered them to be a suicide squad, they were given low-quality items that could break or stop working at any time.

My mind was so much bent on figuring this out that I didn't realise I was the only one left in that crate area that lead to the reserve. Scratch the panther's skin, scratch the panther's skin. Scratch the panther's skin and it will reveal its true self to you. Scratch the...panther?...panther?..black...scratch...to reveal..blac... And it dawned on me. I felt the black surface of the crate's bottom. It felt like plywood. I clinched my palm into a fist and pounded twice on it. It gave way to reveal an AWM and DP-28 with 8× scope and 6× scope respectively with two energy can drinks.

It was the sound of heavy diesel-combustion hybrids—Old World tech that didn't care about radiation or EMPs. Ren stood on the command deck of the crashed freighter, peering through the spiderweb cracks of the reinforced viewport. He held the kinetic sniper rifle Rook had given him—a "Widowmaker" .50 caliber bolt-action that weighed nearly thirty pounds. It smelled of gun oil, cold steel, and history. There was no digital HUD overlay. No red diamond marking the enemy. No windage indicator projecting a calculated trajectory. Just glass optics, iron mechanics, and his own eye.

Finally at the end of the day everyone had to hit the firing range, all in formation and under the watch of a Lanistae of course. Every soldier of Remas carries a firearm. Gunners carry Muskets and Bows if the commander demanded it, while Spearmen and Legionnaires carried the Carbine. It was during our training in the firing range, where Varkii cemented his reputation as a capable marksman. Even a moving target was no match for him.