The Gunroom Novels & Stories

A door, thick, dark wood, stood slightly ajar down the hall to our right. Haller kept walking, but I slowed just enough to peek. Behind it, in the dim lighting, I glimpsed metal racks. Gunmetal gray cabinets. A wall lined with sleek black weapons—rifles, handguns, shelves of ammo. Tactical gear hung like uniforms, ready to be grabbed at a moment’s notice. My breath caught in my throat. Was that... an armory? I took one step closer, just enough to see more—

That would be extremely embarrassing. “Where are we going to do this at?” I asked him as we left the house with our hounds in tow. “There’s a large testing room in our Weapons Division building where all of the weapons are tested out to ensure that they work properly. It has reinforced concrete and heat absorbers. That way we don’t have to worry about accidentally catching the forest on fire. We wouldn’t want to destroy those trees that you loved to be fucked up against.”

He shortens his pace only when he notices I’m still behind him, still silent, still struggling. “You’re quiet,” he says without looking back. “That’s unlike you.” “What do you want me to say?” I manage, my voice small but steady enough to sound like mine. He doesn’t answer. Of course he doesn’t. We reach another room—a massive door he opens effortlessly. I blink at the sight inside. A shooting range. The entire room smells of metal and gunpowder. Weapons line the walls like trophies—pistols, rifles, snipers, models I’ve only seen in movies. The dummy at the far end is riddled with bullet holes, the walls marked with years of practice.

Earth is outdated I guess, what about AWN". Klaus asked. "No such thing here boss". Abruzzi said. Gwen and Jai Mi picked the Scar Rifle including Abruzzi. "Don't Worry Jai Mi, you won't have to worry about recoil". Nicklaus said as he carried the XM8 rifle. They bounced out and entered into a vehicle before driving off. Nicklaus asked Jai Mi to drive to a warehouse first just across the street. They got down from the vehicle and entered all holding their guns. In the building were about thirty gunmen who were arranging some Crates.

Since I had no idea how to use half of the functions, I chose the simplest. Afterward, we went to the armory, a thirty-by-thirty-foot room with guns hanging on the walls. Large boxes sat around its perimeter, each filled with ammunition. There were shields, sword racks, and a stand that held more daggers than I could count. A table took up the middle of the space where people could sit and load up their weapons. As we headed toward the door, he cleared his throat. “I occasionally correspond with your sister. Would you like me to reconnect you?”

I went back down the hallway, past Leo’s room, and entered the small armory room at the very back of the safe house. The room was cold and smelled like gun oil and metal. Long wooden tables stood in the center, covered in black tactical gear and heavy weaponry. This was for the raid. This was for the hospital. I walked over to the table and picked up my primary rifle. It felt heavy and solid in my hands. I sat down on a stool, pulled a clean cloth from a box, and began to wipe down the barrel. I moved slowly, checking the slide, checking the sight, making sure every moving part was perfectly oiled and ready to go.

The atmosphere became charged with an air of secrecy, and the dull hum of assembling gadgets mixed with the occasional metallic click of weaponry being readied. Assault rifles, ranging from sleek AR-15s to rugged AK-47s, were carefully laid out alongside specialized equipment. The scarred man's group was a well-oiled machine, each member knowing their role and executing their tasks efficiently. The room had transformed from a luxurious hotel suite into a temporary command centre for a mission known only to them.

"I think this isn't over and I think you need to stop being a person who reacts and start being a person who's ready." She looked at the guns one more time. "Okay," she said. "Show me." The room at the end of the hallway she'd been through was small and purpose built. It had soundproofed walls and targets at the far end. Boxes of ammunition lined up on a shelf with the kind of organization that meant someone came in here regularly. Mikhail handed her ear protection and put his own on. He picked up one of the guns and checked it the way she'd watched him dozens of times now. He loaded it and held it out to her grip first.

I followed him sometime later and went directly inside the back room and claimed my seat at the head part of the rectangular table. Floored with rich velvet carpet and walled with ebony wood, this room was all man. A full shelf of firearms was on one side and another shelf full of blades and explosives was on the other. This was merely for display to decorate the room. For our nightly missions, the third basement floor of this nightclub served as the stockroom of these firearms.

"We need to address this threat head-on. Gather what you need, get dressed and meet me in the weapon room." The weapon room, my sanctuary of power and death , awaited us on the lower level of the mansion on the same floor as the dungeon. Its walls are adorned with an array of deadly instruments, gleaming in the dim light. As we enter, the scent of oiled metal and polished wood filled the air, mingling with the anticipation that crackled between us.