Revy Pistol Novels & Stories

I got to my car and went to the boot. I opened it and pushed a button installed by the right panel of the boot. A shiny black metal tray filled with my favorite weapons slid up as the fake floor of the boot part. I picked up a Pit Viper Nine Millimeter with a twenty-one round capacity and a Barretta Nine Thousand S. Also a twenty-one round capacity. I put them in my shoulder holster and strapped it on. I grabbed Karambits and also with their sheath. I pushed the button and the tray of death tools slid down and the false floorboards closed.

Roy pushed open his door, tossing his keys to a valet. He was clearly a regular. He guided me effortlessly to a private lane, then handed me a Beretta 87 target pistol. "Wanna give it a go?" I slipped on the noise-canceling headphones. I took the gun. It was heavier than I expected. My grip felt awkward, all wrong. With the instructor's help, I fumbled with the pistol. I loaded it. I aimed. Bang! After aiming for what felt like forever, my first shot missed completely. The recoil stung my palm.

He loaded the other one and put it under his belt. He pulled out another box. It was rectangular in shape. He opened it and revealed a slim dagger with the belt. He strapped it under his pants just above the ankle. "You know how to use any weapon"? He turned to Noah. "Uhm. Chamber revolver… Conrad taugt me". He replied seriously. Natt nodded in approval. Handing him a holster. He opened and found a mini revolver, an 8 bullet chamber revolver. It was the latest 38 Special Blank-Firing Revolver. Noah strapped it under his shirt on his chest.

she says with a level voice. Silas slides his hands into the pocket of his long black coat and leans against the arm of her sofa. “What you’re holding there is a Manurhin MR 73. By the looks of it, yours is a double-action revolver with a 4” barrel length and a .357 Magnum calibre. Interesting fact about that gun is that it’s known for being the standard issue sidearm of French police tactical units. So, since you’re pointing it at us, I’m going to assume you weren’t always a PI,” he says calmly. Could this man BE any sexier right now? That was so hot!

I answered sheepishly. “Now she's sheepish." He rolled his eyes, I glared at him. "Was anyone else with you in the weapons room? Or did you see anyone lurking around it when you entered or when you came out?” Caelum asked. "The only person I saw when I came out was Soren.” We both turned to look at Soren. He rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Tada, I'm the killer.” He said dryly, throwing jazz hands. I giggled.

O’s had done their job, he was placed in a body bag and taken to the morgue for a post mortem. It was seven the following morning when Pete entered his office. He dumped his bag on his office chair and making sure he had his phone he took the lift up to the ballistics lab. He knew the staff wouldn’t be in for another hour or so but he still needed to work quickly. He sorted through the evidence collected the day before until he found what he was looking for, pulling on a pair of gloves he removed the gun Grenville had stolen from its evidence bag and laid it on the nearest table. He took photographs of it from all angles before sliding the weapon back inside its bag and putting it back where

Someone. Dad's eyes are still wide open, emotionless. The entire incident comes flooding back to me all at once, and I slump to the ground, the newfound energy getting zapped out of me all at once. "*We must get revenge,*" the Angry Voice in my head says, and I nod, still tired, but happy at the fact that she hasn't lost her anger mode due to my fatigue. "Let me lend you some of my strength, young one," the voice says again, and I blink. "I'm sorry, wha-"

“let me make something very clear.” My eyes shifted to May. “May,” I said, my tone still light, “where is the man?” May bit her lower lip. She pointed directly at a man standing near the back. I followed her finger, frowning slightly. Honestly… he was ugly. Not even close to Renzo in the same world. “Where is it…” I murmured, pretending to search my bag. Aha! “Found it.” I pulled out a compact black pistol. A Glock 26.

I go through them at least three times. They all feel weird and like they don't belong in my hand. Finally, I select one. I'm not comfortable holding any of them, but right now, I need to try. "This one," I mutter, and he nods. "That's a 45 ACP chambered Glock 21 pistol," he explains. "Why not just say it's a Glock?" I ask. It's easier to remember than whatever he said.