Steampunk Pistol Novels & Stories

“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.

Eric said coolly, his tone sharp enough to cut glass. Rex’s eyes darted to Damien, who was calmly examining a sleek, custom-made gun. A shiver ran down his spine. He recognized the weapon—a modified Smith & Wesson, known for its devastating effects. The bullets it fired didn’t just kill, they tortured, leaving behind excruciatingly slow, acid-induced agony. It was an acid that burned through everything until the pearly white bone was exposed. That pain alone would have people begging for death over mercy. Mr. Damien, I-I’m not sure of the purpose of your visit. V-velvet vipers hasn’t interfered with the Cross’s business—”

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.

Rico’s POV “Sir, the trigger on that gun is faulty.” One of the workers dared to speak as I picked up the sleek black pistol from the counter. I hissed. I rolled it slowly between my fingers, feeling the weight, the balance, or lack of it. Without a word, I tossed it into the metal bin with the others that had failed inspection. The clatter echoed through the underground workshop like a warning. “I need all hands on deck,” I said calmly, puffing on my cigar. The smoke curled lazily toward the low ceiling. “The consigliere’s body armor must be ready before dusk. No excuses.”

The weight of the vintage kinetic revolver in Kabir’s hand changed the entire dynamic of the room. It wasn't an ordinary weapon; the barrel was engraved with intricate geometric runes that channeled the ambient chronal radiation of the room, making the metal cold to the touch and hum with a low, deadly vibration. He handed the second revolver to Marcus, who took it with the practiced ease of a veteran soldier, while keeping the third strapped to his own tactical belt.

“Okay so don’t touch anything yet. In here are Five Thousand Pieces of Silver Daggers, Two Hundred High-Tech Bows; Extremely flexible, unbreakable and foldable to a portable pocket size, Four Thousand Silver Arrows, one hundred Silver Swords, Five Hundred Silver Guns- a silver custom made Maxim 9: A maxim 9 is an integrally suppressed 9x19mm pistol with an abundance of inflammable bullet; these bullets disrupt the moment they enter the body. Releasing liquid silver and other poisonous liquids into the body so be careful. If you are done looking at them, please step out so I can start handing them out already” They were all outside before I could complete my speech. They are acting as if they

Budge’s head bobbed. “Have you tested them?” Drummond frowned at the constable, as if he’d been insulted. “Whadda you think, copper?” “Just asking.” Foley was taller than the Drury Lane boy, his gaze more domineering. Neither lowered his eyes. Ignoring them, Will panned the spyglass across the dock. The Millwallers had done yeomen’s service hauling the thawing sheep into the basin. The carcasses had drifted and now were everywhere, bobbing like grotesque melting ice blocks. Blood slicked the dark water. Lads stood about armed and ready. Scanning their weapons, he saw railway pry bars, digging bars, crowbars, wrecking bars, railway spike mauls, pickaxes. One big Clerkenwell boy wielded a sled

"It's a pistol with rubber bullets. You must be able to knock the cans off the guards' heads perfectly. You only have one minute and six bullets. If the bullets run out or the allotted time runs out, you will be considered a failure. Do you understand?" Thomas nodded, immediately getting ready with his pistol. In less than a minute, five bullets flew out and knocked all the cans off the guards' heads. "Good, you pass," Stevan said. Caraline let out a long breath. She had to admit that the man named Thomas was good with a gun despite his questionable appearance. She glanced over at Deric who seemed content to stare at the bespectacled man's results.

Angela saw the question in Adam’s eyes. “Spoils of the gangwar. Most of these were taken from dead gangsters. You’re in luck because I checked and tossed the bad ones a week ago,” Angela said and smirked. Adam stared at the guns for a full minute before he picked up the best looking Tokarev pistol and a dagger. Angela gave her an odd look. “No AK?” “You can’t hide the AK. I’ll get shot the moment they see me,” Adam said and Angela nodded. Adam had thought it through long and hard. Not many times it had gone well in his mind either.

I like having a grand entrance. "What's new?" I said reluctantly and leaned back in the chair. "The guns," he reminded me of something I almost forgot, I am the death dealers' leader of this faction. I hate it when my guns leave my body. It's my other half. I'm sorry babies. I pursed my lips as I took my two Beretta 93R. Contains silver bullets with ultraviolet ammunition which can be used for both vampires and lycans. This is my favorite weapon for being fair.