Prophecy...Originally Posted by SCCY Marshal
The year is 2023: ammo shelves long barren and mouldering, security teargassing the queue to prevent further knife fights over the latest slim powder delivery, it does little good as the triple masks and goggles worn against the Moldovan variant reduce the effect of the gas, more blood on the pavement, others scuttling about town collecting piss bottles and lump charcoal to process their own black powder, lead a precious commodity.
While GLOCKs have long been demilled as children's toys, you step out into the world. The fat bullets won't shrink, flat meplats increase effect over round nose, softness of pure range scrap lead hand shoveled from the berm a perk, olive oil based grease recipe working just fine to soften the fouling from the black powder substitute found ignored in the corner of a much raided gun shop, the fat cases easy to find on the ground and load with the coarse powder, enough volume to drive those soft cast pills hard enough.
Weight from the unfluted cylinder useful after your fifth shot spent in defense of the toilet tissue under your vest which you are trying to smuggle to one of your dead drops in trade for black market ivermectin. But now the rear corner at the heel of your stocks has been chipped off on a skull, again. Better to swing the empty gun and draw the Ka-Bar than carelessly shuck your brass upon the ground. No pausing to recover after this ambuscade. You must keep moving. Can reload with retention if you can just make it to the seclusion of the burnt-out Wendy's.
And think about a safe route back to your compound. The mission is off now that you've been made. Did your contact burn you? Is the deap drop still secret or must you work to find a new one? Trick question, you are always looking for new ones...
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