#pistol red dot sight

[theroguebanshee]

Gideon Alpha Red Dot Review: 1 Year of Testing

In this video, I’m taking a deep dive into my experience with the Gideon Alpha, a pistol red dot sight that I’ve been using for over a year. I initially ran it on a SIG Sauer P320 and loved it, but I decided to really put it to the test by mounting it on my custom-built 12-gauge shotgun, the “Home Rumbler.” Throughout this review, I’ll share what I like about the Alpha, including its durable…

[rootytootyshootylum]

most powerful weeb

[historyofguns]

The article, written by Massad Ayoob, is a comprehensive review of the Springfield Armory Compact Echelon 4.0C pistol. The Compact Echelon 4.0C is a smaller version of the original 4.5F model and is designed to be more concealable while retaining many of the excellent features of its predecessor. Chambered for the 9x19mm Parabellum cartridge, the 4.0C boasts a modular Central Operating Group and a Variable Interface System that accommodates a range of red dot sights. Ayoob details the specifications of the pistol, including its 15-round magazine, ambidextrous design, and Adaptive Grip Texture. The review includes performance testing, demonstrating the pistol's reliability and accuracy, particularly when paired with the Vortex Defender-ST optic. Ayoob highlights the gun's suitability for concealed carry and notes its potential for broad appeal among enthusiasts and professionals alike. The article also underscores Springfield's attention to detail, like their innovative iron sights and optics compatibility, which enhance the functionality and appeal of the Echelon 4.0C.

[attackcopterblog]

Davidson's Holosun EPS-Carry MRS: New Barrett Brown Exclusive

Major Wholesaler Davidson’s has teamed up with optics manufacturer Holosun in an Exclusive Barrel Brown EPS-CARRY MRS release. Davidson’s state “Davidson’s, one of the nation’s top firearms, ammunition, optics, cutlery, and accessories wholesalers, has collaborated with Holosun to bring a new colorway to the popular EPS-Carry Multi-Reticle handgun sight. The EPS-Carry MRS is an enclosed handgun…

[spookypete-94]

O-

GhostxFem!medic!reader

Reader is a medic that has been assigned to specifically take care of TF141. She learns just how difficult the lieutenant can be.

SFW, CW for- language, more then likely medical inaccuracies

You had worked next to Price shortly a few years after he started. Your impressive skill level always imprinted on him. After he became the Captain, he had sought you out specifically. The risks of the missions he was on he wanted someone he could trust on standby to take care of him and his men if something were to happen. Sure, you knew your way on the battlefield and could do basic operations if needed, but your area of expertise was caring for the injured. It was almost like you were hardwired and made for it, a natural.

Once learning Price had requested you, sought you for so long- it was a no-brainer to join him and his team.

"Ready to meet everyone?" He asked, his voice quiet but still carrying a booming effect.

"Sure am," she you replied, crossing your arms as he led her to his office. Inside stood 3 men. One that wore a blue hat in casual attire, the second one with bright blue eyes and a mohawk, and the other was a large looming man that leaned against the desk face covered with a skull balaclava, dressed all in black.

"Would like you all to meet the team medic, this is Y/N L/N. I sought her specifically for us."

Y/N stuck her hand out to greet everyone, shaking the first two, easily learning their names as Gaz and Soap. The third one, however, did not step forward to shake her hand. One could feel the distrust from his gaze.

Fine, You thought to yourself and instead stood next to the Captain again.

Price explained your duties and how you would be attending missions with them on scene, in your own helicopter, and would respond as needed.

"If I could have dog tags, just to have full name and blood type, I'd appreciate it. Makes it easier for me to log and store blood if needed."

Again, the first two she met and Price complied, handing their dog tags over with ease. The large one never left his stance from the desk, arms crossed, hands never reaching into his shirt.

"Lieutenant," Price said just shy of a scolding manner.

"No worries, Captain, I'll manage." you said, waving it off. Honestly, far from offended, dealing with difficult men your entire career, becoming used to it. Price looked at you, shocked, wondering how you would "deal" with it. Scribbling the information down, your own chicken scratch looking difficult to anyone else who might read it before handing the tags back. "Thanks," you said cheerily, handing the tags back. "Lieutenant," nodding in his direction still being courteous to him. "I'll be in the MedBay updating my records and starting carts for all of your needs. Hope you all have a pleasant day." Nodding, and stepped through the group of men.

Once the door was shut, they all turned to Ghost appalled by his behavior to such a kind woman. "Why ya' gotta be like that, mate?" Soap asked him.

"Don't trust new people," he grumbled, leaving them all to shake their heads.

Time had passed, you had her records all updated and built trust with three of the group she cared for. Not quite with "Skullface" though, as you called him. Being on the team with the TF141, means you still had to qualify on all weapons... leaving you at the mercy of the range with the grumpy Lieutenant as he was the instructor.

His tone came across condescending at the very start. The first weapon he picked was a handgun. He showed how to load and reload the mags, how to place it in the bottom of the guns and forcefully shove up to make sure the mags don't fall out. How to use the iron sights and the difference between red dots, the difference between calibers - things already known by you but dared not say anything wanting to make a point. He handed back the pistol, taking aim, and shortly emptied the clip, hitting the metal target in the center. The ping echoed, target shaking with each bullet. Managing tactical reload, dropping the mag, pulling the full one from your belt, reloading it, and doing the same thing.

"You know how to use a gun?" he asked stunned.

"I do."

"You could have led with that."

"Didn't want to interrupt your whole "spiel, "seeming it's the most you've said to me the entire time I've been here."

Behind him, Price stood smiling, arms crossed as he stood at the front of the range. Game, set, match, he thought to himself comically.

"Can we do shotgun next, or are you gonna break the basics down for me on that, too?" Your tone playing coy, making Ghost shake his head, handing her the shotgun.

The day was over faster than Ghost expected it to be, thinking you would be inexperienced.

"I'm sorry I treated you like that," Ghost said humbly as they picked up the empties.

"Used to it."

This answer caused silence among them both. You took it upon yourself that he was waiting for you to answer why.

"Most men in this field just see me as a nurse. They seem to forget that Medic's have to be battle trained, too. Used to being treated like that."

He turned to look at you. "Shouldn't be a medic, you're better than most of the soldiers I've seen in the field."

"All be it surprised, I'm a better medic, then I am on the battlefield."

"Have to be one hell of a medic then."

"I am." you said confidently, throwing the expended bullet casings into a bucket to be repressed.

How grateful you were, that it ended on a positive note between the two this time.

"Here," he said, going to hand her his dog tags.

"Don't need them any more."

Even though his face was covered, you could tell he was confused by your response.

"Got it taken care of." smiling widely to him, throwing your assigned weapons over your shoulder and heading back to the base.

You had left him preplexed and him watching that smile never leave as your legs carried you away. Satisfaction filling you, knowing you made your mark on him.

"Fuckin' hell," he said quietly to himself.

Inevitably, the day came. Ghost had found himself and Soap injured, Ghost was losing blood rapidly, taking the grunt of whatever exploded. They requested evac but had to wait for an extraction team to get to him. His conscious status was in and out, vaguely remembering you and your squad getting to him and Soap. Your facial features make you seem like you were is glowing, the light being so bright. If he had not seen your ability to be deadly, he would have thought an angel was standing before him from the golden glow.

The next thing he knew, he was on the helicopter, finally coming to. He started to sit up quickly, the sudden alertness making him realize what had just happened

"Sit your ass still," you growled to him.

Even as a threat, your voice calmed him, making him indeed sit still.

"Where's Johnny?"

"Next to you, across the bird behind the curtain, my team got him stitched and wrapped up. Hold still," You said, pulling his arm back to her. He realized you were stitching him, hand holding his arm close. Noticing the IV for fluid and another for blood attached into his other arm. There, he saw a rolling cart with "Skullface" wrote on the top where his name should have been, bags of O- blood inside it.

"My blood type isn't O-," he said, head rolling over to look at her.

"Mine is. It's the universal donor."

Finally, he realized what you meant.

"That's your blood?"

"Yup, been pulling mine off for your cart in case something happened since you wouldn't give me your tags that day."

He was silent for a bit. That was her way of managing... using your own blood to save him. "I'm sorry I was such an asshole to you."

"Stop. You already apologized. Just be grateful I did what I did and didn't leave you to bleed out." Some men just needed tough love.

Somehow, you had struck him. He was seeing you in a different light once more. How grateful he was for his mask because if it wasn't there.. you would be able to read his face. Adoration and all. He leaned back into the pillow, letting you finish and look him over. Fingers ghosted across his skin as you moved his body to be able to check for whatever it was you were looking for. No resistance was given by him now. You had earned just more than his respect and trust. Just on the ride back to base, you already had him stitched up.

"Still will have to do scans to make sure there is no internal bleeding, but have to do that back at base. I'm glad you're still alive." you said, patting his thigh in an area that you knew was not injured.

"Fuckin' hell," a phrase he found saying all too much with you. Eyes watching your walk away and prepare for landing.

Soap pulled back his curtain, smiling mischievously at Ghost.

"Not a fuckin' word," he grumbled to him, knowing all to well that Soap knew that Ghost had caught feelings for hyou.

Simon Ghost Riley Masterlist

[hellsburners]

time's wasting, tick-tocking, lip locking

summary: spider-man meets an unlikely friend(or foe) to help him retrieve an important package. pairing: tasm!peter parker x male reader word count: 1.8k warnings: fluff, suggestive stuff, black cat reader, light smut, they're not friends sorta enemies if you think about it. a/n: a request from an anon! btw you could end it to a certain part if you just want the banter and the fluff but yall this is a hellsburners production we're serving smut here

masterlist | more peter parker

The air was quite chilly atop this building, the spandex not warming his body. Spider-man rubbed his gloved hands together for some heat, his legs bent over the ledge of the building, his eyes scanning the dock below. Twenty-four men loading wooden crates into shipping containers with the words Roxxon Energy Corp.

He swung down behind a shipping crate, crawling to the top unbeknownst to the men. His webs thwip across the snowy dock, disarming three men. Their bodies bonded together, and their mouths shut. He swings again, landing next to four other men, their rifles pointing at him.

Peter webs for two opposite poles and slingshots himself to the men, kicking one over while disarming the others; more men come rushing with baseball bats and crowbars. They try to hit Peter, his senses blazing from each attack; he ducks and avoids each blow, pulling on a few webs to tie them up.

Five more men come from inside the shipping container, loaded with pistols and rifles, but before they can come out, a small silver ball rolls from the top of the container, falling down and releasing white smoke.

Peter could hear the men choke and cough as a figure came down and took them individually. He did the same, taking the moment when the men were disarmed to land a few kicks and punches, leaving them unconscious.

He runs to the shipping container as the smoke wears off. The crates were ripped open with bear-like claw marks, the contents of the boxes now gone. He hears footsteps from his far left, the shadowy figure creeping against the moonlight. Peter webs his way to run after it. The cold slowed him down, his feet much heavier and his hands numb.

He shoots a web that lands on the figure's back. He turns to a man wearing a black coat with white fur on the hood and its sleeves. He sees your face, black-masked, dark hair with streaks of silver, a black satchel wrapped around your shoulder. The Black Cat.

You gave him a wink before falling back on the ledge of the building. Peter jumps, finding you at the bottom, waiting for him. He webs down slowly, landing on his feet. Your back against a wall, your clawed fingers wrapped around the clear vial with silvery-purple liquid.

"Need this?" you said, vapor appearing from your lips. "Nice to see you again, Spider."

"I would say the same, but I don't share the sentiment," he said, walking towards you. "Can we skip the small talk and give me that vial?"

"Ooh, you know it's not that easy," you said, putting the vial back in your bag. "Besides, don't you miss me?" you pout.

"I—no!" Peter said, his voice erratic. "Shame," you smirked, dropping another smoke bomb before disappearing from his sight.

"Hey!" he screamed. You were ahead a few blocks. He swung across a few other buildings and tried to chase you down. You grappled down a busy street, your coat blending in with civilians in their winter clothes. "Fuck," he sighed. "Lucky me, I've been trying to test these out," he said, taking his phone out to see the red dot on the city map, a tracker placed on your back when he ran after you.

He traced you down, riding a black car heading out of the city. Peter reloaded his web-shooters and braced for the trip. He swung from building to building until he landed on a truck heading in the same direction. His joints started to stiffen, his nape cold and aching.

You entered a safe house on the city's outskirts, a brutalist bare building with a white car parked outside. Peter found you dealing with—Richard Fisk, the Kingpin's son, calls himself The Rose. You hand him the bag of vials. You await payment before his men point their guns at you. Peter knows you. This isn't something you could run away from easily. Fisk turns away and leaves in his white car, leaving you with six men with loaded guns.

Peter jumps down to your aid, unarming two men before landing a solid blow on the others. You take this moment to kick the other man right across his face. He saw you move with grace and agility, your gymnast background aiding your fight.

The men all ended up unconscious on the pavement. Blood drips down your lips, and no one gets away with scamming you. "So, was it worth it?" Spider-man said.

"Don't piss me off," you said, rubbing the back of your hand against your bloodied lip. "This never happens."

"Well, it just did," he said. "That vial could've helped me to take them down, but now they have it!"

"I'm not a hero, Spider," you snickered. "I don't do this for good. I do this so I can live," you walked towards the door, the metal ice cold. You try to slide the entrance to the side, but the gate does not budge. You snarled, trying to pull it back. "Shit, I think it's stuck."

"What?" Peter said. "Let me see," he tried to do the same, but the door still didn't budge despite his strength. "Fuck, they must've closed us off—the snow isn't helping either." Peter punched the door in anger, leaving a giant dent.

"There must be another exit—or a window," you said. The room slowly turned colder. You tried to wrap your fur coat around your body, your breath leaving hot vapor. Loud bangs from Peter's fists filled the room, but the door never moved.

"I checked before coming in. There isn't one," Peter took off his mark, panting while vapor left his lips. You looked at him. He was older since you last met, the circles under his eyes darker, his face riddled with stubble, his hair longer and messier. The cold fogged your goggles up, so you took them off and left them on a table nearby.

The two of you rummaged all over the safe house, looking for materials to use or food and other things. Peter found an old lab coat to wrap himself with, and you found a box of canned tuna, some old crackers—and one sleeping bag.

Peter tried his cell, but there was no signal. "We're going to be here for a while," you said. "Shouldn't we bundle up and stay warm, like old times."

"Not happening," Peter said, shivering under his breath.

"Your loss," you ripped a claw on the box of biscuits and took a bite. "Ugh, it's stale."

Hours passed with Peter running around the safe house, looking for an exit. On the other hand, you lay on the sleeping bag with your hands behind your head. You took a file from your pocket and filed your claws into peak sharpness. Peter sighed under his breath every time he passed by you. "You're a pain in the ass, Cat."

"From what I remember, you gave me a pain in the ass, Spider," you chuckled. "Kidding, it wasn't all pain."

"I'm fucking freezing," Peter said, rubbing his body to make some heat.

"I told you we should bundle up," you said. "Plus, it's getting late, and I'm sleepy."

Peter rolled his eyes and joined you in the sleeping bag. The two of you were wrapped like a burrito, his face too close to yours. His brown eyes stared intently, his long lashes batting at you. You wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him closer. His eyes widened, and a soft moan left his lips. "Wrap your arms around me, too," you said. His large arms snaked around you, creating heat.

"Wood sage and Sea salt?" you whispered, smelling his neck. He chuckled and nodded. "I missed you, Spider. Honestly,"

"I missed you too," he said, his voice stern. "Where did you go, Cat?"

"Tried to live a normal life, it didn't end well for me," your gaze trailed away from his eyes, your hand finding his soft brown hair. "I guess this is me forever, running and stealing."

"It doesn't have to be like that. You could work with me, and we could be good," Peter said, his palms rubbing your lower back. "Live with me."

"I'll think about it," you said, your hands falling to his cheeks. It was warm against his cold skin. You inched closer, pressing your lips to his. You closed your eyes and delved deeper into the kiss. His hand snaked underneath your clothes, cold fingertips against your bare skin. You wrapped your thigh around his, his knee hitting your center. The two of you moaned from the kiss, hands searching each other's bodies.

You straddled Peter's waist rubbing your ass on his growing erection. His hands wrapped around your ass, pulling you closer. He whimpers on your lips, shaking from the pleasure and the cold. "Cat—" he moaned. You pepper his neck with kisses, licking and sucking, leaving red marks.

He pulls you back to the kiss, his arms hugging you tighter as his sex rubs on your ass. He rubs against you, moaning and whimpering while you moan from his tight embrace. He grips your waist, fingers digging into your skin. "Fuck—Spider, you good?" you gasped.

"I missed you, and I need you," he said. "Please be with me. I'll take care of you, protect you," his eyes stared at yours. "You won't run ever again."

"I'll think about it," you said again, an ache forming in your chest. Knowing it will never be normal with him.

"Fuck–I'm close," he moaned.

You pulled him in for a last kiss for a long while. Peter finishes under his suit, his face red and his hair drenched in sweat. You later passed out on the sleeping bag, your arms draped around each other, Peter's lips pressing on your forehead as you succumbed to the night.

Peter woke up to a banging on the door. "We know you're in there, Cat! Give us the real vial, or we'll kill you!" a bunch of men surrounded the lot, hands on their guns. He saw that you were gone, a hole formed on the ceiling, sunlight peering in, a black satchel on the spot where you slept. Inside were the vials and a note.

Sorry, I couldn't stay for breakfast. I had to go real quick. I left the vials for you. Do whatever is right. You always do the right thing. And you'll probably not see me again but don't miss me too much. I know I will.

Xoxo, Cat.

[ivan-fyodorovich-k]

Back during the gun panic of 2008 we all became aware of a kind of gun guy that came to be known as “Bubba” who would take then-common and then-cheap rifles, most notoriously from the Mosin Nagant family, and then “modernize” them with some kind of synthetic stock, rail accessory, scope, etc.

Bubba made all kinds of arguments justifying this behavior. He was making the gun “practical.” He was making it “usable.”

Bubba's father and grandfather did the same thing with surplus rifles, but for that generation the term was "sporterizing." Cutting down barrels and stocks to improve accuracy, tapping receivers for scope mounts, all in the name of "practicality." Making it "usable."

In the long run the accomplishment of both was to guarantee the future owners of those firearms went to great lengths and expense to undo their "improvements."

The sights have gotten more sophisticated, the mounts have gotten more clever, the antiques have gotten rarer and more expensive, the arguments have not changed.

The problem with all of these wayward souls is that they are trying to make their gun something it is not, in the pursuit of some other gun they would rather have. Your "modernized" antique will never compete with an actual modern firearm, and sooner or later you will return to what you actually want--a modern firearm.

In the past people justified this behavior because of cost or availability. The surplus guns were cheap, modern guns expensive. That is not the case now. All the antiques are expensive now, much more than modern guns, in large part precisely because of this behavior. These days, if you have the money for an antique gun and the gadgetry needed to "modernize" it, you have the money for a modern gun that will outperform the antique in every meaningful category.

All but one, which is that the antique is an antique, and the modern gun is not. This for many people is an intrinsic value. Trying to make the antique something that it isn't is just undoing the one thing the antique actually has going for it in favor of trying to make it something that it can never be. And you may feel that you are clever, but you are just bored, and ultimately just making a fool of yourself. You look ridiculous. Your gun looks ridiculous. And it is still not and will never be what you actually want. The antique is never going to shoot as well as an AR-15 or a Glock. That red dot sight will never perform as well on your antique as it would on an AR-15 or a Glock.

If you really cannot shoot that pistol or that rifle without a red dot sight or some other modern accoutrements, sell it to someone who will appreciate it for what it is and use that money to buy a firearm that functions how you actually want.

I don't care what Youtube Star has to say about it.

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

RUUD HOENKLOEWEN - To your right, the killer raises his rifle and takes aim at you. His moves are steady, but the long barrel of the rifle sways slowly...

Kim! Where is Kim?!

Blink -- think!

[Reaction Speed - Challenging 12] Dodge the shot.

KIM KITSURAGI - From the corner of your eye you see the lieutenant raise his pistol -- and aim it at Ruud.

VISUAL CALCULUS [Medium: Success] - He's trying to find a straight line of sight before the rifleman can take you out. In the background, the leader is still on fire...

REACTION SPEED [Medium: Success] - It's not easy. He has 0.6 seconds to do so. He won't make it. You're on your own.

2. Blink -- think!

RUUD HOENKLOEWEN - You stare down the barrel of the gun. You see Ruud's mask behind it -- his eye in the slit of the helmet. Like a camera lens focusing on you.

HAND/EYE COORDINATION [Medium: Success] - 0.4 seconds remain. There are six little black dots in the tip of the barrel, like a honeycomb. This is a *nock cannon*. It shoots six rounds in one pull of the trigger.

ENDURANCE [Easy: Success] - Is there anything -- *anything* -- we could use to protect this frail body? That gun will tear us to pieces.

SUGGESTION [Challenging: Success] - Just dodge the first shot -- and the second will be easier. Drunks are quick to anger -- and make mistakes.

ESPRIT DE CORPS [Challenging: Success] - Titus -- behind you -- must be aiming at him right now. Don't forget, there's additional reinforcements. Just survive this...

3. [Reaction Speed - Challenging 12] Dodge the shot.

+1 He'll make a mistake. +1 Help is on the way.

REACTION SPEED [Challenging: Failure] - A low shot rings. You feel a tapping, like rain on your chest plate. Heavy drops of rain. Then the sound of dice rolling, as the cuirass distributes the shot evenly from plate to plate.

PAIN THRESHOLD [Easy: Success] - You got hit. The armour took most of it, but still your rib cage burns. Feels like blood is slowly seeping into your lungs...

KIM KITSURAGI - "God, please..." the lieutenant says quietly, without trembling. He aims, face pale...

VISUAL CALCULUS [Medium: Success] - He's aiming for the eye-slot in Ruud's helmet. An extremely difficult shot...

EMPATHY [Challenging: Success] - He has to. The rifleman will fire at you again.

DE PAULE - Then -- two shots ring at once. One from the lieutenant's pistol and the other from De Paule's. It's aimed at the lieutenant, but it misses. You hear a scream behind you...

Kim -- did he hit the rifleman?!

Who screamed?

RUUD HOENKLOEWEN - Blood gushes from the helmet's eye-sockets as Ruud staggers back, disoriented. The sounds coming from his helmet are not human.

HAND/EYE COORDINATION [Easy: Success] - An unbelievable shot from the lieutenant.

Who screamed?

GLEN - Glen -- dying in a puddle of blood behind you. His mangled torso has two gunshot wounds, blood gushes out of them like red geysers.

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - OH GOD! WATCH OUT!

KORTENAER - You see two crazed eyes stare at you -- through the burning meat and the flames. With his face boiling off the man raises his pistol at you. Then he squeezes the trigger...

Look the burning man in the eye.

[Reaction Speed - Impossible 20] Evade the shot.

Let it happen.

KORTENAER - The look of vengeance. Framed by melting skin. This is the last thing he will do on Earth -- but he *will* do it. He will end you.

HALF LIGHT [Easy: Success] - Here it comes. Death.

2. [Reaction Speed - Impossible 20] Evade the shot.

REACTION SPEED [Impossible: Failure] - You can't. There is no time. Something inside your pelvis explodes. Your entire lower body is on fire and your legs can't support you... you fall down like a rag doll.

PAIN THRESHOLD [Formidable: Failure] - The pain is too immense to scream. It pushes the air out of your lungs. Everything goes dark, a distant blur as you recede into it...

Listen... *through* the darkness and the pain.

Touch your lower body…

(Try to open your eyes.) What do I see?

REACTION SPEED - The Hardie boys are screaming, fighting, dying. Someone jumps over you -- nearby gunfire shatters glass.

GARTE, THE CAFETERIA MANAGER - "STOP!!!"

TITUS HARDIE - "The cop! Protect the cop, he's down..."

2. Touch your lower body…

PAIN THRESHOLD - Feels slick and warm with blood. The pain is too strong to know what has happened there. Even clutching to your consciousness takes everything you got.

3. What parts of me are… missing?

REACTION SPEED - Most of what's down there.

Oh god...

I don't care. Fuck me.

REACTION SPEED - ... it's all gone. Open your eyes now. You have to see what's happening!

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - No. No. It's just a fear. Even if... who cares. No one wants you anyway.

4. (Try to open your eyes.) What do I see?

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Medium: Success] - Nothing. A persisting darkness. Dancing lights of pain. Distant shadows cast by them, like a hellish play...

KIM KITSURAGI - "You're bleeding out!" Out of it -- a silhouette appears, crouching over you. You hear a familiar voice filled with urgency and fear."

"No one wants to *do* anything with me... no one wants to party with me."

"The wolf is at the door, Kim. He will eat the sun."

"Kim, I lied. About not remembering who I am. I made it up... I remember everything."

"There's a white shadow that smells like apricots, it's... always there."

I really should get you to vote on this one, but I also really don't want to have to go through the entire tribunal again.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Stay with me!" You feel burning hot tears streaming from your eyes.

"I can't forget it. Even when I drank so much..."

"It said I have a vast soul. Do I have a... vast soul?"

"I shouldn't have called her. Now she hates me."

"She would have started loving me again but I called her and now she won't."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Yes! Keep talking!" The lieutenant pushes down on your wound, hard. "You hear me?! Stay awake!"

But you can't. It's so hard. Your eyelids grow heavy and the sounds ever more distant. And a cold comes over you. The lieutenant, too, is somewhere far away. Almost gone... when suddenly! You sense something behind him...

DE PAULE - A slender white shadow, towering. Someone stands there -- raising her pistol at him. The lieutenant does not see it. He's pushing down on your wound with both hands...

REACTION SPEED [Medium: Success] - Scream IMMEDIATELY! He's gonna die.

Just let the darkness take you.

[Authority - Medium 11] No!!! Kim...

+1 The lieutenant trusts you. +2 Kim *truly* trusts you.

AUTHORITY [Medium: Success] - "NO," you say, and hand out your firearm to him. Your hand trembles and your eyes are full of fear.

KIM KITSURAGI - That's all it takes. There is no room for hesitation. The lieutenant moves, like a spring unloaded. He grabs the gun from your bloody hand and fires behind him.

DE PAULE - You hear a faint scream -- a woman's. Then the sound disappears, like someone pressed STOP on the tape. The woman is gone. So is Kim. Then the whole world...

Fall into total darkness.

ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN - This is death. One more door, baby. One more door.

Tiger King

Will I be a… ghost now?

Good, I want to die.

No. Let me back into the fight.

ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN - Brother, you already *were* a ghost. Up there, screaming -- along with all of them. Scaring each other. Haunting each other.

It's the living who are ghosts. The dead are silent. They don't rattle windows or write letters in blood. The living do. Leave them behind. Rest.

Good, I want to die.

ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN - Of course. I know you do. Everybody leaves, when they get the chance. Go on, keep falling. Deeper... take the door.

LIMBIC SYSTEM - He's *not* taking it. His body is not taking it. Oh god, no, he's not disintegrating -- he's swelling up instead. Over the hours. Hurting. Moaning in his sleep.

And rotting. And being disinfected. And smelling of drugs and feeling saliva in his mouth. Drifting in painkillers. Thrashing in his wound sleep.

VOLITION [Easy: Success] - He can't go. Not before the case is solved.

PERCEPTION (HEARING) [Medium: Success] - There is a radio in the distance. A radio of the world. Playing sounds: Good morning, Elysium. Soon you will return to the world.

LIMBIC SYSTEM - Hours turn to days. Soon he will get up again and go through it -- again! Again! Finally, we know what the infernal engine was, outside -- the clarion call...

It was *him*. *He* is the infernal engine. He never stops. He only gets worse.

END OF DAY SIX.

[quirkle2]

has zombie mob ever bitten someone before? i know that he's pretty chill, but i like to think that the hypothetical situation that would trigger him would be if someone where to hurt ritsu or someone from the gang in general :o

(ALSO HIIII I HAVEN'T BEEN ABLE TO OPEN TUMBLR BUT AAAH I'M SO GLAD YOU DON'T MIND MY ASKS 🫶🏼 i just love mp100 AND zombie films, never thought i'd come across where these two are combined 🥹)

HIII im ALWAYS happy to talk abt the sillies there is never a time where im Not thinking abt the sillies <33 !!!!

to preface this answer, there's little settlements of survivors dotted around the place in this world, and for many people, they're safe havens that are stocked w food and supplies and people who are willing to help you. the people there are typically heavily armed and ready for any zombies that come their way, and they patrol the territory regularly not just to loot the places nearby, but to watch for any zombies that have gotten through defenses

the settlements are full of people who, in general, like to help any outsiders they can—if they see a person trying to survive out in the wild alone, they'll offer shelter and food to them as long as they're not infected

if ur not ritsu, that is.

(warning for guns and some gore btw)

normally, they'd be more than happy to help a kid as young as ritsu. but he's traveling with a zombie. that is obviously an instant red flag for them, bc to them, it's pretty much guaranteed that ritsu is infected at this point. they don't see zombies the same way ritsu does—they don't know that zombies r still human and capable of very human thing

settlements actively Hunt zombies, instead of just kill them when they come around. they go on patrols and Search for zombies to take out, even if the zombies aren't actually endangering anybody atm. it makes sense to them, it's the obvious answer to them, but to ritsu, that's unbelievably cruel. to ritsu, that's no different from attacking humans unprovoked

they will also kill any infected people, even if they're still very much human in behavior. they see it as mercy kills. ritsu is very bitter abt it, but defending those zombies means putting his brother in danger, and his brother matters more to him than anything

to most people, seeing a settlement up ahead is a godsend. to ritsu, it's an oncoming death sentence. they WILL shoot him and shigeo on sight once they figure out shigeo is a zombie and ritsu is traveling with him, so ritsu has to be Extremely careful when around settlements. he generally tries to steer clear of them—the areas around them r usually looted already anyway, so there's no point in getting near

they're hard to avoid, though. and sometimes he runs into people patrolling the area. and sometimes they see ritsu guiding a zombie by the hand, and they're suddenly right on top of them and aiming to kill

shigeo doesn't just bite somebody. the fight evolves from ritsu aiming pitiful shots from his own pistol that all miss, to trying to disarm one of the patrol guys and getting pinned to the ground where the barrel of a gun is inching worryingly close to ritsu's face

shigeo doesn't just bite him, he tears out the guy's throat. ritsu scrambles away and takes the shotgun that he'd barely kept away from his face, and he simply watches in horror as shigeo rips tendons and muscles out from a man's neck. he gets it all entangled in his teeth and it takes everything ritsu has not to vomit immediately—he can't seem to look away from it, from the strings of flesh and blood dangling and trickling from his brother's mouth

when shigeo calms and he's not biting down on muscle anymore, ritsu has to get on his feet and get near his brother, which is admittedly hard to accomplish at the moment. he eases into his field of view and when shigeo sees him he doesn't immediately growl—his angry eyes actually soften, and ritsu gently pulls him up and pointedly ignores the blood covering shigeo's chin

cleaning the blood off his brother's face later makes the experience feel Real to ritsu, and he does his best not to burst into tears. he firmly decides that if (when,,, when.) he Does find the cure, and if shigeo Doesn't remember this, ritsu will never tell him. he's pretty confident that his brother would never be able to live with himself, if he knew what he just did to another human being

[gunzlotzofgunz]

COLT MK IV SERIES 80

THE PISTOL HAS ITS SIGHTS REMOVED AND WAS FIITED WITH A RMS RED DOT

[inkandguns]

I was a big time hater on red dot pistol sights at first but I’ve been won over

[historyofguns]

Paul Carlson reviews the Springfield Armory XD-S Mod.2 OSP pistol, a 9mm single-stack handgun designed for concealed carry and self-defense. This optics-ready model is equipped to handle red dot sights, enhancing both speed and accuracy. The review highlights the modifications Springfield has made to accommodate the optic, such as altering the loaded chamber indicator. The XD-S Mod.2 OSP comes in two configurations, offering both a basic model and a package with the Crimson Trace CTS-1500 red dot sight. During testing, the pistol performed reliably with various types of ammunition, and the author noted its ease of shooting and minimal recoil. Carlson concludes that the XD-S Mod.2 OSP is a capable and sensible choice for those seeking a small, shootable, and reliable defensive handgun.

[catgirlforeskin]

I'm in a Cyberpunk Red game w/ a bunch of friends from college (after we played the videogame and loved it lol), but I was wondering what gripes you had with the system? Overall I've been frustrated by how boring the gun customization is mechanically (a pistol with a red dot and a pistol with iron sights are just role-playing with no actual stat changes, etc.) but haven't taken issue with anything else in particular. I've only seriously played 5e in the past though, so I'm interested in more perspectives lol

Gun customization and gun combat generally leaves a lot to be desired, yeah. The granular range tables and armor penetration are neat ideas but otherwise it’s very basic, which isn’t inherently bad, but after having played Twilight 2000 4e I mostly just miss the gun combat and action economy from that. I’m not a fan of cyberpunk’s 5e style action economy of one action, free movement, and free actions.

Generally so many of the items have no stated mechanical benefit and rely entirely on GM rulings, but when most of the game is very strict about exactly how things work, that “rulings not rules” approach kinda falls flat imo, and is entirely dependent on the GM rather than the system, which imo is a failing of the system. It’s again very 5e with “well, just let the GM finish the game’s rules!”

Another gripe I have after having come from Pathfinder 2e is that I hate not having an accessible wiki with all the games rules now. Especially when there’s so many splatbooks that all have important rules hidden in flavor text, I miss just being able to look up something and instantly have all the rules on it. But even beyond that Pathfinder 2e handles its rules so well by having basic universal principles and the Trait system so any time you see something new you can quickly understand how it works by seeing what traits the item or ability has.

I still like Red, but yeah a lot of the time it makes me miss either Pathfinder 2e or Twilight 2000 4e. Oh my god and don’t even get me started on netrunning and how one player is just playing their own game with turns 10 times the length of everyone else who just roll to shoot and are done in 15 seconds aaaaaaaaaaaaaa

[potato-pencil]

International Superspy: A Backyardigans fic

The cold metal of the pistol pressed against his back, digging deeper and sending an involuntary shiver down his spine. Adrenaline surged through his veins as the familiar routine began, but he didn’t budge. He had committed the script to memory by now: a dark alley, a creeping figure, a crowded pub, and countless whispered secrets and repressed desires. This was London at night—or at least, London for Agent Secret. He swirled his drink, letting his eyes drift over the many faces in the room, each one with a story, yet he was only interested in the figure behind him. He sipped his drink one last time before turning his gaze to the mirrored wall in front of him, revealing the owner of the pistol he was being forcefully acquainted with. A coy smile formed on his face—tonight, he wasn’t on a regular mission; tonight, he was called to action.

“Agent Secret,” the figure whispered, their breath fanning his ear as they moved to sit on the empty stool, the pistol never leaving its spot on his back.

“Lady Pink,” he greeted solemnly, acknowledging the obnoxiously pink hood that encompassed the woman now beside him, accompanied by her usual scent of roses. “We keep meeting under the most unfortunate circumstances, wouldn’t you agree?”

“You have only yourself to blame for that, agent,” she teased, her voice laced with a playful edge as her eyes roamed his body, searching for what he could only assume was the purpose of her appearance—the flash drive he currently held. “You have something that doesn’t belong to you,” she said, her gaze snapping back to his, her intense eyes holding him in place, aside from her gun, of course.

“Always so eager to make accusations. Yet again, patience was never a virtue you possessed.” He set his cup down on the bar with a forceful thud, catching the attention of the distracted bartender. “And here you are, with a gun to an innocent man’s back. What does that say about you exactly?” His eyes abandoned hers, focusing now on the bartender.

“It only shows I’m a woman who knows what she wants,” she retorted, pressing the pistol further into his back, reminding him that her threats were anything but empty. “And who knows how to get results rather efficiently, at that.”

A mocking smile formed on his face. “Efficient?” he questioned sarcastically, allowing himself to look at her only through the mirrored wall in front of him. “I feel the need to remind you of that situation in Cartagena. We’re calling that efficient now? Because I don’t think that’s the word I would use to describe that moment, my lady.” His gaze remained fixed on her, watching as her face twisted in a pained cringe at the dreaded memory before she quickly collected herself.

“Do not make me cause a scene here,” she warned,applying pressure on his back with her pistol reminding him that she held the power, a fake sweet smile plastered on her face. Her tone was sugary yet commanding. To the outside observer, it looked like a couple out on a date, where the man was being a bit of an ass, and his seemingly sweet, doting girlfriend was doing everything to charm him. She had her arm around his back, strategically holding the pistol out of sight, making it look like a hug. Her body was pressed close to his, appearing defenseless—when she was anything but.

“Always one for dramatics,” he sighed as memories of her previous scenes flooded him. “Can we at least drop the pistol? I know Tyrone must be nearby with my head as a target, and we both know his aim is deadly.”

She smiled, pressing her body closer to his and pushing the pistol painfully into his back. “Very well,” she uttered, retracting her weapon into her coat. A red dot briefly appeared on Secret’s forehead, signaling that the danger had not passed. “Will you hand me the drive, or will I have to forcefully retrieve it?”

“A drive?” he questioned in feigned ignorance. “You’re going to have to give me a bit more to go off of here, my lady.”

Lady Pink leaned in further, her voice a low murmur that barely reached his ear. “This drive holds something that could turn the tables in ways you can’t even imagine, Agent. It’s not just about money or power—it’s about control. You wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of this, trust me.” Her words conveyed not just her seriousness but also an invitation that Agent Secret had refused before.

He turned to face her, forcing her to peel herself away and create distance between them. His eyes scanned hers for any hint of something genuine, but they found nothing but seriousness. “My dear lady, I’m sorry,” he said, fixing a strand of hair that had fallen out of her neatly made braid. His fingers gently grazed her face as he tucked it behind her ear. His eyes already conveyed an apology before his words could. “Trust is something I can’t afford to freely give.” With that, he recoiled his hand, fully abandoning the touch.

Her mouth parted slightly as a hint of pain crossed her eyes. “I—” she began, only to be interrupted by the intrusive ringing of a phone—Agent Secret’s phone.

She stared at him in clear annoyance as he nodded to whatever was being said to him. Her mind swirled with a complex mix of emotions: rejection, urgency, and the high stakes involved. Agent Secret didn’t seem to appreciate how fortunate he was for her to meet him in person, even if it was under the threat of certain death. Normally, she would send Tyrone for such tasks, yet here she was, and he was on a phone call.

She sighed in frustration before her own phone rang. She reached for it from her coat, only for the bartender to accidentally spill an alcoholic drink on her. She stood up in a frenzy, dripping with the drink as she received a steady stream of apologies mixed with the aggravating sound of her ringtone. Her coat was ruined, her phone was ringing, and the bartender’s futile attempt to dab her coat with cheap napkins only heightened her irritation.

With a sigh, she glanced at the stool behind her, a snarky comment ready to combat whatever words Secret would throw at her. But then, a surge of panic rushed through her as she realized Agent Secret had disappeared. Her eyes darted to the glass wall, now covered with curtains, preventing Tyrone from aiming. She quickly scanned the bar, finding that he had indeed vanished.

“Sorry, miss, I—” the bartender began, but she forcefully shoved him away, grabbing her phone from inside her coat, only for it to fall silent. The sound of a shutting door could be heard above the murmurs of the crowd.

She glanced back at the now-empty spot and found a note pinned beneath his glass. “Of course he would,” she mumbled to herself, barely above a whisper. The bartender was left ignored on his knees, picking up the shattered glass from the ground, as she grabbed the note from the counter, her distraction shattered by the reality that Agent Secret had slipped from her grasp with the drive.

She skillfully opened the folded napkin, her eyes immediately raking over the scribbled words just for an involuntary laugh to escape her. Only one sentence was clumsily scribbled on the crumpled napkin:

My dear lady, always expect the unexpected

                               -Secret 💙

[theocrabalar]

Modernized XM9: A Metal Gear Solid 2 thought project

This portrayal of the XM9 is now 21 years old, how would we modernize it for use in 2023 and beyond? Let's start with the base gun. The original is a Beretta M9 with an added on manual lock-up from Knight's Armanent Company.

I honestly think with modern suppressors, and ammunition, we can forgo the manual slide lock solution, even tho the Hush Puppy Project exists and they do slide lock conversions for Glocks and M&P slides. Then we can move to an off-the-shelf solution for a pistol; For the proper modernization but keeping the style, I'd look at the Beretta pistols as modified Ernest Langdon at Langdon Tactical Technologies

These particular variants offer the lowest possible mounting of the red dot sight we'll be adding. And comes with suppressor height sights as standard that will allow co-witness through the red dot in the miraculous case that your 2 year battery life unexpectedly craps out on you. For the red dot sight, a Trijicon RMR seems like the go-to option. It is the option that all other optics are measured against.

For in-game purposes this would make aiming easier in first person perspective for newer players as no knowledge of how regular iron sights work would be needed. Just a red dot would be needed. For regular third person view, that's where the Surefire x400v comes into play. It is the venerable Surefire x300, the go-to pistol light, but in IR, and with IR laser capabilities. This allows for even more use of the infrared goggles you can find in-game.

The Beretta pistol makes for an interesting host for pistol suppressors. Due to the movement of the barrel during firing, there is less or no need for a booster or Nielsen Device, allowing you to have a lighter suppressor. And for the kind of use this is intended for, less weight is really important. This also allows for a suppressor that isn't as specialized as the can used on the original XM9, this would allow for the same suppressor to potentially be used on whatever 9mm carbines or SMGs that could appear in the game.

Close to my idea, as built by user Greg Bell on Pistol-Forum.com

So yeah, that's my thoughts on how to reimagine what I think is a pretty iconic gun for the Metal Gear franchise.