Romans & histoires The Gunslinger

"But know this. The truth will come back, Nash. And when it does, you will live with this moment for the rest of your life." "The only thing I'll live with," Nash said, "is the satisfaction of knowing the pack is finally clean." He squeezed the trigger. Click. The gun jammed. Nash’s eyes went wide. He pulled the trigger again. Click. He swore violently, throwing the gun to the ground. He drew the Star-Fang Dagger instead. "Fine," he growled. "I do it the old way." He raised the dagger high. Sayler let out a weak cry from the dirt. "Daddy... please..."

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.

Peterson. As he descended the stairs, a tall, well-dressed man waited at the bottom for him to pass. He was dressed, carried himself, and had the dangerous feel of a dandy gunslinger. In Aiden’s experience, they were the worst kind. They weren’t like the gunslingers of the west who showed their intentions to you right away. Dandy gunslingers wore a facade of polite society and proper etiquette to lure their victims into a state of complacency before taking them by surprise. They were generally fast with a gun, but not the best; which was why they used trickery first and gun slinging second. He had neither the time nor the desire to cross paths with this man

_*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> POV: Gunner _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> Gunner stared at the screen, but the images were far beyond his awareness. _*]:min-w-0 gap-3"> The kid was doing it again. Making him think on things he had tried not to give too much thought to. Before Santos had showed up, Gunner had been an enforcer and a ladies' man. Plain and simple. But was it?

Guns. The raven purge has begun.

A gunshot ripped into the dark silence, its sound so harsh and sudden it made the air quiver. Catalina De Luca stopped in the doorway, her throat seized. Her fingers clutched the wooden frame, keeping her upright while her big, scared eyes locked on her father. He stood shaking, his lofty form silhouetted against the starless heavens. Smoke rose from the gun still grasped in his hands, the smell of gunpowder curling into the salty breeze. Catalina didn’t recognize him. Once he held the world on his shoulders, but now he felt empty, his suffering leaking through gaps nobody could heal.

However, Xander had a gun now, and it was the most advanced one. Xander said excitedly, "This is the enemy's sniper rifle. It has excellent accuracy and is said to be equipped with night-time silencing and infrared vision. Suddenly, Xander became a bit depressed. "I don't really understand the specifics, but this is the gun that injured Mr. Gagnier. Thankfully, he dodged in time. He only hurt his arm. Miss, where did you get this gun from?"

The gun trembled in her hands, a symbol of the dire choice she faced. Mr. Calderon, blinded by his obsession, failed to heed her warning. "You wouldn't dare," he scoffed, his confidence unshaken until the moment Hazel, with a resolve as fierce as the fiercest storm, pulled the trigger. The gunshot echoed like a clarion call, a sound that would forever mark the turning point in our lives. Mr. Calderon staggered back, a look of disbelief etched onto his face as he clutched his shoulder, wounded but alive.