#police firearms

[craftholsters]

What Guns Do Cops Use by Craft Holsters 

Modern Police Firearms: Reliability and Performance

Law enforcement officers rely on firearms designed for precision, durability, and versatility in high-pressure situations. Standard-issue sidearms like the Glock 19 and Sig Sauer P320 dominate due to their reliability, manageable recoil, and advanced features such as modularity and red dot compatibility. Rifles like the AR-15 and shotguns like the Remington 870 provide essential power and adaptability for tactical situations. These firearms are chosen not only for their effectiveness in diverse scenarios but also for their ability to withstand extreme conditions and rigorous use.

Advancements in Law Enforcement Weaponry

Recent innovations, including red dot sights and weapon-mounted lights, have enhanced accuracy and safety for officers. With the rise of 9mm as the preferred caliber due to advancements in bullet design, law enforcement now benefits from improved control and sufficient stopping power. This shift underscores the ongoing evolution of police firearms to meet the demands of modern policing. To learn more about the What Guns Do Cops Use, check out Craft Holsters' What Guns Do Cops Use blog.

[diablo1776]

K9 Training

[tacticalphotography]

[comic-art-showcase]

Batman and Gordon by Scott Chantler

Batober prompt: Silhouette

[frogblast-the-ventcore]

Chinese People's Armed Police gendarmerie members conducting CQB training with Type 95 5.8mm assault rifles and a stir-fry pan, mid 2010s

[usarmytrooper]

Hot cop.

[nando161mando]

Riding by the cops when they suddenly pull their guns out

[paravnoorsinghsethifan-blog]

Murder Mystery Riddle "The Triple Murder Case"

Hey guys i created a murder mystery. I have given the crime scene and also forensic reports and clues. You are the investigating officer in charge and your task is to catch the culprit

[jose96853]

FACT CHECK AGAINST ABC—VIOLENT CRIME IS UP!!!!

The hits and shown biases just keep coming. ABC News reporter David Muir had said that Donald J. Trump was wrong. But from the Justice Department’s Bureau of Justice says it is up from “5.6 per 1,000 in 2020 to 8.7 per 1,000 in 2023”. This is what the article says from The New York Post. You can see all of the statistics from the link below, but this goes to show that ever since Joe Biden and the…

[luminafights]

░ 𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐎𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐭: 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝟒𝟎 ⠀   𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝟏.𝟎 ⠀   ① ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴɪᴏɴ: Evol Police Xavier ⠀   ① ᴡᴇᴀᴘᴏɴ: Hunter Firearm ⠀   ② ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴɪᴏɴ: Deepspace Hunter Xavier ⠀   ② ᴡᴇᴀᴘᴏɴ: Hunter Claymore

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⠀⠀⠀☑ Stella Match⠀⠀⠀⠀☐ 3 Star Pass⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀☐ Video

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Another old relic almost lost to the abyss that is my screenshots folder. No context on the stats again as I didn't post it anywhere.

𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲── .✦

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐬── .✦

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬── .✦

2024-09-13 12:39 PM

Another old relic almost lost to the abyss that is my screenshots folder. No context on the stats again as I didn't post it anywhere. These screenshots were dated March 11, 2024 3:45 PM.

[elmacheteillustrated]

Serve and Protect

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"POLICE COURT," North Bay Nugget. May 9, 1934. Page 2. ---- Found in possession of a gun when he was arrested by C. N. R. Constable Carroll for breaking into one of the sheds on the tracks, James McCarthey, 18, of Toronto, was fined $25 and costs or three months by Magistrate Weegar this morning. He took the jail term.

A companion, Frank Glover, 16, was given the choice of paying a $10 fine or going to jail for 15 days for having stolen goods in his possession. He, too, went to jail.

The boys had stolen a number of railway signal caps which were found on Glover when arrested. Police did not suggest that McCarthey was using the gun for robberies. He said he merely had it to take pot shots at squirrels on his travels.

Trespasser Pays Fine Three railway trespassers went to jail for 10 days and a fourth paid a $10 fine when they appeared in police court this morning.

Forgiving Victim A scrap in a Finnish boarding house Monday evening culminated in a North Bay man being arraigned in police court Tuesday morning to face an intoxication charge. He paid $16.50.

The complaint was made by a Finlander who came to the police station with his face a mass of blood. He, however, did not want to lay an assault against his assailant.

Costly Hangover Still groggy, a North Bay inebriate was brought before the cadi Tuesday morning.

"Were you drunk last night?" the magistrate asked.

"No," the man stammered.

"Why you are still drunk, $16.50 or ten days," Magistrate Weegar decreed. The man paid up.

Deer Out of Season Pleading guilty to having deer meat in closed season in Salter township, Ormond Staples, Toronto, was given the option of paying a $20 fine or going to jail for 30 days by Magistrate Arthurs at Massey, Saturday. He took the jail term. Ormond was arrested by Game and Fishing Overseer Tom Tayler at Espanola, April 28. A rifle and a piece of spoiled deer meat were seized.

[cyanophore-fiction]

The Battle of Europa

Cw: graphic violence, warfare, civil uprising, police brutality. 

(This one is actually pretty graphic, just a warning.)

Jimmy got Europa in the kind of deal that’s only made when one signatory has antimatter and the other has two billion people to keep warm. Jimmy feeds the reactors, Jimmy keeps the ships flying, and so Jimmy wrote the terms of the godforsaken treaty. Give us your waterworld, we let the fuel flow. Callisto, Io, and Ganymede needed the break, so they made the call and sold Europa off.

Europa, of course, was none too keen to wind up as corporate chattel. The minute that the Confederation pulled out and Jimmy stepped in, it was bedlam.

__________

A maser’s beam is invisible, but it makes a kind of sizzling when it passes through the air. If there’s water on the pavement, or damp newspaper, or any kind of moisture at all, it explodes into steam when the beam passes over. Jimmy likes to use that, tracking up towards a crowd through puddles and bodies to get people running before he lays into them.

If they’ve got signs, he scalds their backs. If they’ve got guns, you can hear their skins bursting under steam pressure from down the block, like dry leather being torn open. 

That sound, churning beneath the screams and returning fire, was in Hunter’s ears as he sprinted down Eighth street toward the corner of Bassett. Every muscle in his body ached, and his flash-printed shotgun felt like solid lead in his hands.

He glanced back, through the tear gas and his fogged-up goggles, and fired a shot into the floodlights that Jimmy had blaring down the avenue. The recoil made him stumble, and he went sprawling on the sidewalk just as he reached the corner. Behind him, a discarded water bottle exploded, and the air had begun to hiss and crackle. 

Hunter forced one leg up beneath his torso and kicked off as hard as he could, his digitigrade joints uncoiling to launch him forward and around the corner just as the beam arrived. Behind him, he heard a corpse burst. He didn’t look. 

Dozens of people were streaming down Bassett, armed with everything from lengths of rebar to stolen railguns. Hunter fell in with them, weaving between abandoned vehicles and debris. Cones of light from headlamps swung back and forth as they ran, passing over destroyed storefronts and apartment buildings. The pipes and conduits crisscrossing the city’s ceiling were lit orange from the fires below, and ventilation fans roared to clear the smoke. 

In the middle of the street, a cluster of people pinned a thrashing Jimmy to the ground as an ice miner drove the tip of an industrial drill through his carapace armor. 

On the sidewalk, a leonine was slumped against a shop window, clutching at an arm that had been split down the middle and reduced to leather by a maser blast. Hunter slung his weapon at his side and got under the leonine’s good shoulder, helping him to limp alongside the fleeing crowd. 

“Gonna be—alright,” Hunter said, panting. Beneath his respirator, his face was numb with cold condensation, but he was covered in lachrymator chemicals and didn’t dare take it off to wipe the damp away. “Stay with me, man.”

The leonine said nothing, but nodded shakily. 

Behind them, there was a chorus of low thuds, and a fresh wave of gunfire came up from the fleeing people. Grenades arced through the air toward them, leaving trails of aerosol in their wake. 

“By order of JMEI administration, disperse immediately.”

A phalanx of Jimmy’s PMCs had come around the corner. Bullets plinked off their plate shields, decelerated by mitigation fields. An armored vehicle trundled along after them. Its maser turret swiveled around to point down the street, and floodlights came on.

Hunter darted left, yanking his companion into a destroyed store. Steam explosions thundered up and down the street, and there were screams nearby. Broken glass crunched under Hunter’s feet as he sidled between upturned furniture, pulling the leonine along. He hauled him up a narrow flight of stairs and laid him against a spilled display of insulative vacuum suits. The leonine had a respirator, but his unprotected eyes were screwed up tight against the gas. Beneath them, his golden fur was streaked with tears. 

“Hang in there,” Hunter whispered, and dug in his pockets. He withdrew an autoinjector full of medical nanites, pulled the protective tip off, and pressed it into the leonine’s shoulder just above his destroyed arm. Almost immediately, his shallow breaths became deeper and more rhythmic, and he settled back against the padded material of the suits. 

“Thank…you,” he said.

“’Course.”

From outside, there was a sound of metal screeching as tank treads ploughed through abandoned vehicles. Long minutes passed, and the noise began to recede. As it did, Hunter could hear the slow thud of heavy boots downstairs. He shouldered his shotgun and rose, placing his steps between shards of glass as he approached the stairwell. He listened as they came closer.

One set of footsteps. He could hear the whine of a power-assist exoskeleton, the tumble of furniture being shoved aside. Hunter rested his weapon on the railing above the stairwell, aimed downward, and waited. 

The Jimmy came into view, holding a shield in one hand and a maser rifle in the other as he took the steps two at a time. The bulk of his heavy hardsuit was almost too wide for the staircase, and his shoulders scraped against the printed-plastic walls. Hunter tracked him until he was halfway up the stairs before pulling the trigger.

Blast after blast after blast, racking shells through the action as fast as he could work the pump. Waves of flechettes poured into the Jimmy’s back, some whistling as they ricocheted while others plunged deep into the mesh between his armor plates. Blood sprayed against the walls. The Jimmy stumbled and spun as he fell, holding the trigger of his maser down. The beam sizzled in the air, tracking wildly up the wall, along the ceiling, and down across Hunter’s exposed legs. 

Crimson steam burst from Hunter’s thighs, ripping his skin open. He fell back, howling in pain, rolling in broken glass as his shotgun clattered to the floor. 

Moments later, he found himself being dragged back along the floor, and felt the sting of an injector in his waist. The leonine’s bloodshot, weeping eyes hovered over him. 

____________

Thanks to @flashfictionfridayofficial for the prompt! 

A backstory piece for one of my characters, Hunter Ashley, from a story called Vargheist. What comes next is that Hunter does make a full recovery, given quite a bit of cybernetic work. On the grander scale, the Europan resistance succeeds in liberating the world, with aid from forces across the Solar System.

Hunter—and just about anyone else from the Jovian moons—has a deep and lasting hatred for JMEI, Jovian Mineral Extraction Interests. They are more commonly referred to as Jimmy, or just the Company. This conglomerate is one of the oldest in the Solar System, controlling all extraction and refinement of high-grade reactor fuel from Jupiter. If it wasn’t for its internal political disputes and the oversight of Solar Neutrality, JMEI would likely be a burgeoning imperial power. Not for lack of trying.

[frogblast-the-ventcore]

Modern Chinese SWAT team kit. All the kit's been given tons of modern accessories slathered all over.

Type-79 7.62x25mm Tokarev SMGs (essentially what happens when an AK and a PPSh love each very much... but only have a 20 round mag, with a stupid high RoF, and 7.62 Tok overpens for life)

Type 97-1 pump-action shotgun (bog standard 870 clone 12-gauge)

CF98 pistols (probably in 9mm)