Roleplay Guns Novels & Stories

Xavier could read a person just by staring at them so he naturally knew how greedy Logan was , too bad Xavier can't seem to stomach greedy people. "The guns that's gonna be sold to them is ready." Godvric informed when he received a text. Godvric couldn't understand how a CIA operative such as Logan could be so dirty. "Tell me about it." "S&W M&P Shield Ruger 1911 Commander Glock G17 S&W J-Frame Revolver Charter Arms Bulldog Smith & Wesson M&P Glock G43 Handgun Glock 23 Handgun Ruger LCR Pistol are guns that's gonna be sold."

Ariana shrugged, leading me to the guns as she said, "Adrian had it set up a couple weeks ago. It’s safer than going to an outside range, since there are too many eyes out there." She picked up a sleek black pistol, then she turned to me and said, "Okay, crash course time. First of all, we've got your basics which include handguns like this Glock 19. They’re compact, reliable, and good for concealed carry. Then there’s rifles like the AR-15 which is meant for longer range. Shotguns are for close quarters, like this Remington 870.“ “I know,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I’ve played Call of Duty.”

The man mumbled with a hoarse voice, bringing his head down and looking sideways to continue making his list — something he was doing before she showed up. "El Depredador, Sobek Special, Double Clutch sniper guns, El Rubi and Ciervo Macho shutguns as well. I'm hoping you'd have the aforementioned here tonight." She gruffed, dropping a cheque on the table before him. He lifted up his head slowly to take a closer look at her as she drew near to him with those words coming out from a young teenager's lips.

They nod their heads and walk away. “These are the weapons I was able to get on such short notice. You have everything in there. Pistols, AK47s, Rifles, handguns, revolvers, submachine guns, etc.” I pick up the ball and zip it open, “I ask them for every bit of everything, and the knives are at the bottom”. I smirk and whistles at the sigh of the guns “Damn” “Yeah, Damn, that was my reaction when I saw those bad boys” “What about the bombs and stuff?” Roman as he holds out the Rifles and rubs the edge.

Not a single spark of pity. I shed my coat, tossing it onto the leather couch, and gave a sharp nod to Unique Wilson, my sotto capo. Without a word, he handed me my weapon of choice: a .32 ACP calibre, the Welrod. It was a small piece of machinery, but it was efficient—designed to bury a soul before they even heard the shot. Its built-in silencer made it my personal favorite. I tucked the gun into the waistband of my trousers and stepped into the dining area. I didn't use the gun yet. Instead, I let my fists do the talking. The room filled with the rhythmic sound of bone meeting flesh and his pathetic begging.

Ryan pulls another gun out of nowhere. "This is a generation five Glock 17." I pick it up and turn it over, looking at it. It looks a lot like the service weapons used in TV shows. It also looks eerily like the gun Johnston always carried. "Don't point it at your face," Ryan says, his hand moving the barrel away from me. "Oops," I say, feeling embarrassed. I look down at his perpetually-gloved right hand resting on the weapon in my grip, almost touching my hand. He pulls his away from me quickly.

Muffles of cries and tears filled the room as I pointed my gun at the head of this old hag bitch. Kendall is handling Paola's boy toys as they huddle in the corner. She held her handmade gun that could cause the inside to explode. I've seen her do it once with one of the guards. I've cut a lot of people, but nothing compares to what Kendall did. She was going crazy like Rambo.

Every gun is checked for silver before it's been loaded. My shoulders straighten instinctively as I strap a Beretta M9, the cold metal an anchor in my hand. Xylus is already by the bench, sliding silver rounds into magazines, his jaw a hard line. He taps each bullet like he's convincing himself they'll be enough. "We don't have time for sentimental bullshit," I say aloud, scanning the faces of my warriors. "We check the perimeter, we move quick, we don't give them room to breathe." "Yeah," Xylus says, voice low and steady. "Silver only. No close fights unless we gotta."

All of it just a hallucination? "Heh, sneaking from behind isn't very polite!" Ray's voice whispered in his ear. "And civilized people don't just slash with knives, you know. We're not living in the Stone Age." Then, a miniature submachine gun appeared in Ray's hands. 'You want to swing a knife at me? Fine, I'll respond in kind. But only using powers to kill isn't fun enough.' Rat-a-tat-tat! Bullets rained down, the gun's barrel glowing red-hot.

I stand next to Russo as one of our men yanks open one of the many wooden crates around to reveal stacked firearms and weaponry ranging from the lightweight Smith and Wesson, Colt M1911 and sawed-off shotguns to heavyweights like the military Browning automatic rifles. Russo whistles and rubs his hands together like a little boy awaiting his birthday present. “Time to check these babies out.” He takes one of the guns out, cocks it and aims it at a practice target far off at the end of the warehouse. The gunshot rings out loud and proud, echoing around and he nods, placing the gun back in the crate. Russo is happy with what he sees. Our supplier flashes us his not so pearly whites and leers a