Steampunk Pistol Novels & Stories

I said firmly trying to control all the emotions swirling inside of me. "Let's check the chest!." Nana said shifting uncomfortably, and trying to ease the tension. I picked the black chest, it had a simple lock, so I used two hair pins and picked at the lock. It opened, Nana froze in horror as she saw it, Lance and I exchanged glances and then he picked up the item. It was a God damn weapon, a pistol, and not just any pistol it had a vipers crest on it, exactly like the ones I've seen on the necks, and hands of their members.

He reached out and snatched the smoking rifle from the hands of a trembling Ironhead ganger who looked barely out of his teens. "You aren't holding a scrap-pipe nail gun anymore, kid," Leo scolded, his tone stern but not cruel. He effortlessly checked the rifle's chamber with his massive, armored fingers. "This is a mil-spec kinetic driver. It has recoil. It has bullet drop. If you jerk the trigger like you're trying to snap a chicken's neck, you're going to shoot the guy standing next to you." Leo turned to the disorganized line of forty gangers and laborers standing in the mud. They were wearing a mismatch of dirty rags and high-end, composite-weave ballistic vests. It looked like a mediev

“You can pick whatever you want,” All of the guns in here were old models but they were all oiled up and well maintained. “What kind of powers?” he mumbled picking up a rifle. The handle was made out of wood with engravings on it. The symbols weirdly looked similar to the ones his mother had drawn on that box. ‘Time preservation spell, neat,’ “Is that your choice? You have to write down your name and your choice of weapons. The guns had to be returned in ten days and the bullets used has to be reported,” Killian handed him a ledger-like book.