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Post by Caliber on Nov 29, 2011 0:23:34 GMT -5
[Since we're still in the same conversation, we figured we should just post until this little deal is over, that way we can involve your characters more, N/A] [/b] Cel carried several things out of the APC and brought them to the truck bed. She opened a small box with a padded foam interior, and began taking things out. "Here are the Glock mods," Cel said, taking out parts one by one. "Extended slide and barrel, red dot sights, and Ka-Bar bayonet," she explained, handing him each part. Cel immediately went on to talk about the next weapon-- the heavily modified Desert Eagle. "Desert Eagle XIX, aftermarket barrel extension with integrated compensator and picatinny rails, medium-range socpe, .50 caliber Action Express," Cel said, handing him the weapon. "That one took a long-ass time to build, and the thing ain't cheap, so it's good you brought all that you did."Finally, Cel removed the rifle slung over her shoulder and lay it gently in Tyson's hands. "Custom AR-15 Carbine," she began. "Five-point-fifty-six by fourty-five millimeter. Equipped with an EoTech red dot with swing-out magnifier and a foregrip with integrated taclight module. RIS system and adjustable stock, too. Sling is included," Cel said proudly. Cel immediately trotted back into the APC, gathered a few more things, and heaved them over to the truck bed in a duffel bag. "Finally, here's your ammo-- a little bit of everything, all in separate tins. These guns aren't much use if ya can't fire 'em," she told him. "Oh, and I've included a handheld reloading system, along with the materials required to do so-- gun powder, bullets, et cetera."She stood proudly for a moment, taking one last look at her handiwork. She then readjusted her gaze to the truck bed full of weaponry and armor that she was trading for. She was quite satisfied with the deal, and would make plenty of profit. "Anything else?"
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Post by Mikey on Nov 29, 2011 2:14:08 GMT -5
Tyson wasted no time in taking the parts for his Glock as Cel handed them over, putting the slide together before he slid it into place and let it slam back into position. He loaded a magazine, still full, and racked a round into the chamber. He aimed down the sights into the empty forest and tested the weight. It was still light in his hand, even thought the extra weight may have been quite a bit for someone else. He would snap the rest of the parts in place later, as he couldn’t do them by hand at the moment, but he had the tools in the truck.
He tucked the Glock back into his waistband and took a look at the Desert Eagle. His previous one had been custom machined by professional smiths and engineers, costing more than ten grand worth of material and labor. He’d been disappointed when he’d lost it, but he almost seemed to perk up when he saw the new one Cel handed to him. He racked the slide to test the action, feeling out smooth it worked and he aimed down the scope. He had a good picture of the fixed sights when he aimed it the whole length of his arm. A good view down the scope when he held it with his elbows bent. It would serve his purposes well.
The AR-15, for lack of a better designation, was superb. It was made up of several different parts. The CQB-R barrel, a four position lower receiver, an M4A1 upper receiver. It was very small. He shouldered it and took hold of the handgrip, the stock at it’s shortest position. It felt like holding an MP5K-PDW. Small, light, compact. Perfect for close conditions that would be suicide if he tried to use his M60, even though it was the compact version of the weapon. This rifle was over a foot shorter, it weighed at least ten pounds less.
Again, he stayed quiet as she brought out the ammo cans. He started to open them up take a look through them. They were preloaded into magazines that fit the weapons, he was assuming, except for the .45 rounds. He had his own magazines for it. What surprised him was what looked like an older STANAG magazines, bulged out at the sides.
“60 round magazines?” He asked with an eyebrow raised. He had seen them before, but they were old stuff. They had never even been put into use, yet, here she was with a s*** load of them. A thousand rounds worth of them, all loaded up. The Desert Eagle magazines didn’t seem too far fetched. Ten round’s, nothing fancy, but plenty to kill any target he could think of.
He looked through the reloading supplies, finding hand tools mainly. Crimps, scoops, priming tools, a small hand tumbler. The works. He would be loading rounds for days to actually make a reasonable amount, but he foresaw that he would be having a lot of time on his hands in the near future.
"Anything else?" She asked, Tyson taking a look at the small pile of weapons she had provided. He was stocked for any situation he could think of. Good. He was going to need them. He almost told her no when he looked over at Angela and Arkansas.
“I got enough credit for some more shells? Twelve gauge, two and three quarter inch.” He asked. He was sure he had enough for a hundred or so shells. It’d be his good deed for the year, setting the pair up with some ammo. She gave a quick nod and he looked toward the pair.
“Hey!” He yelled to get their attention, waving them over as Cel pointed to another ammo can. He walked over and picked it up, feeling the weight of the shells. At least a hundred of them inside. That would tide the pair over until they got to where they were going, and beyond.
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Post by NotAvailable on Nov 29, 2011 22:05:22 GMT -5
"I think your friend is calling you over," Arkansas said, nodding his head toward Tyson. Angela looked over and got up from the log they'd sat on. She took a few steps forward before waving her arm at her brother.
"C'mon, I think he's calling the both of us," she told him. Arkansas sighed and got up to his feet, following after her with the shotgun over his shoulder. He didn't mean to seem annoyed, he really wasn't. He was just having trouble wrapping his head around their predicament. His parents weren't his parents. Sort of. Angela and he shared similar backgrounds when it came to where/who their "parents" were and who had raised them in their place.
"Did you need us, Tyson?" she asked as they'd approached him and Cel. She's smiled at Cel and nodded. "Hello, Celeste," she greeted the older women, politely.
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Post by Caliber on Dec 17, 2011 3:06:49 GMT -5
Cel was a bit giddy, thinking about all the new "toys" she was going to get to play with. She was making a fortune off of this-- and Tyson was getting exactly what he wanted, without having to trade anything away that he had any interest in using himself. It was a great deal on both ends, and made both of them quite happy. This deal had been in the works for more than a month, and Celeste was relieved that it turned out more than perfect.
Tyson commented on the sixty-round magazines that had been provided to him. Cel smiled, nodding.
"I knew you'd like those. Found them at a national guard station back in the lower Arklays. They feed fine, and shouldn't require any dry lubrication, so you're good to go. I also included a tool to assist with the magazine reloading, since it can become a bit of a pain in the ass to shove the fifty to sixtieth rounds in there."
Tyson was thankful, and responded to Cel's earlier question, requesting one final thing-- a one-fifty can of double aught buckshot twelve gauge shells. After Cel gave the go ahead, Tyson retrieved the can, then called over the woman and her brother from earlier.
The two siblings made their way over to Cel's APC. The woman said hello, politely, and Cel extended her hand for a shake.
"Hello," she said back with a smile. "Don't believe I caught your name. Always nice to meet potential customers," she chuckled.
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Post by Mikey on Dec 28, 2011 8:27:43 GMT -5
Tyson hefted the can up to the bed of the truck, patting his hand on it once and sliding it toward Angela.
“Here. Call it a going away present.” He said to Angela. “Be ready in five minutes, we’re leaving soon.” He said, looking through the weapons he was presented. He grabbed a magazine for the rifle and slapped it inside before pulling the charging handle. He set it aside and grabbed the shotgun, breaking it open and slipping two shells inside. He snapped it closed one handed and set it next to the rifle. He systematically loaded the other weapons, tucking the Glock into the back of his waistband for easy access. He tucked the smaller of the two blades into his belt and moved to the cab. He set the shotgun on the dashboard, hid the rifle behind the seat. He had never been able to do it with any of his other rifles. He had usually stuck to drums or belt fed weapons, and their profile was too wide. This one, however, was a perfect fit.
He slammed the door and walked back to the bed, shoving everything to the back and stowing it in the tool box. He had taken out his mask, setting it in the bed while he piled everything back inside. He liked to keep it on top. He liked to see it whenever he looked in the box. It reminded him of better times.
He took a piece of scrap paper he had grabbed from the cab and scribbled some numbers on it, handing it to Cel.
“Here’s my frequency. I’ll send you coordinates from time to time for drop points you can pick up. I expect some store credit, for replacement ammunition and supplies.” He said. He kind of doubted that Cel would f**k him over, but he was used to it happening often. He was also looking at her full in the eye. The whole time, he had kept to the side. The unscarred side of his face staying toward her most of the time. He would be surprised if she didn’t flinch.
“Time to go, Angela.” He said. “Your in the bed, Ark.” He said, not in the mood to be smashing into the door of the single seat cab.
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Post by Caliber on Jan 18, 2012 13:09:17 GMT -5
[Cel, Tyson, Angela, and Arkansas have left Lake Trinity]
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Post by soldier on Mar 19, 2012 8:21:03 GMT -5
Chris Reznovich Will be leaving
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