Skateboard Grip Tape On Pistol

I never had problems with the factory slide release, but man… the PRIMATIA extended slide release makes it so much easier to manipulate, especially if you’re left handed (the left factory slide release is harder to press onto) or those with high grip. And to top it off with cheap skateboard tape to add extra layer of the pistol grip allows me more area and pressure to grab on too. Another cool thing is that I don’t need to break grip at all to press onto the slide release since it’s just right there with my thumb submitted by /u/Sleeping_Thoughts to r/SmithAndWesson [link] [comments]

I’ve got really long fingers, usually XL sometimes XXL gloves. My M&P 2.0 with XL back strap plus a few layers of skateboard tape. Otherwise stock except for Apex trigger. The trigger reach with this back strap feels natural. I grip the gun and my finger goes to the right spot. And i can even get my support palm mostly on the gun. I just bought a staccato P and I’m very underwhelmed. Sure, I can tell it is more accurate. Yes, I can tell it returns to zero better. But the trigger reach feels too short, like my trigger finger has to “cramp up” to use the trigger. And I can’t really get my support palm on the gun so when I shoot I have to grip really hard to prevent my support palm from sliding around. TLDR my M&P feels more fun to shoot than my staccato which was 3x the price.. I assume I’m going to have to either give up on the pistol or start researching aftermarket grip modules for 2011s. I really wanted to keep the staccato stock but at the moment I’d rather sell it than keep it stock. submitted by /u/ejlec to r/CAguns [link] [comments]

Dead pedal for texture reference, but wrapped after. Same as skateboard and very effective against rainy shoes. No more slip and great throttle modulation. I give it 10/10 submitted by /u/Kuya10 to r/Miata [link] [comments]

Either I've had my gun for so long (5+ years) that the texture is wearing off or my hands have gotten tough/slick enough that it's not grabbing them, but the grip on my TP9SF has been feeling really slick lately. I don't think I wanna get it stippled (don't wanna send it out since it's my only pistol right now) but I also don't wanna just put skateboard tape or something on it. Is there a classier but also less inconvenient/cheaper option that's made specifically for Caniks? Thanks submitted by /u/sasquatch_4530 to r/canik [link] [comments]

Nova Run - Chapter 1: Desperate Measures and Unlikely Allies Author: Word Jelly M The reek of stale synth-ale and desperation clung to the Zigzag Alley like a cheap space-cologne. Piper Lane, her crimson jacket a defiant splash of color in the gloom, felt the familiar prickle of eyes on her back. Tonight’s score had gone south faster than a greased grav-sled. The "merchandise" – a crate of giggling, multi-limbed Grobnars – had developed an unexpected fondness for chewing through their restraints. Now, Boris "The Brute" Brodsky and his two goons, built like chrome-plated garbage disposals, were hot on her heels. "Lane! You ain't gettin' away with our Grobnars!" Boris’s voice, a gravelly rumble, echoed off the corrugated metal walls. Piper risked a glance over her shoulder. They were gaining. Her pulse hammered against her ribs. Her trusty, if slightly temperamental, laser pistol felt light in her grip. This wasn't about the Grobnars anymore; it was about the principle. Nobody ripped off Piper Lane. With a burst of speed honed by years of outrunning both law and lowlifes, she ducked into a dimly lit doorway, the air thick with the aroma of questionable space-noodles. A startled vendor yelped as she vaulted over his steaming cart, sending tendrils of purple broth skyward. "Sorry, pops! Gotta fly!" she yelled, already weaving through the maze of makeshift stalls and shady characters. Her piloting instincts kicked in, treating the alleyway like an asteroid field. A quick slide under a hovering cargo drone, a sharp turn around a stack of wobbly power cells – she was a phantom in the chaos. But Boris was persistent, his heavy boots thudding relentlessly. Cornered at a dead end – a shimmering energy field humming ominously – Piper knew she had to improvise. Spotting a discarded anti-grav skateboard leaning against a wall, a wicked grin spread across her face. With a running leap, she snatched it, the magnetic wheels whirring to life just as Boris and his goons lumbered into view. "Catch me if you can, metalheads!" she taunted, soaring over the energy field with inches to spare, leaving Boris sputtering in her wake. The thrill of the escape, however brief, couldn't fully mask the gnawing anxiety. Her brother, Jax, was still rotting in the Cinder Moon penal colony, his only crime being born with her questionable genes. Credits were the only key, and her recent… entrepreneurial endeavors… hadn't exactly been filling the coffers. Later, nursing a lukewarm synth-coffee in a dimly lit space-bar frequented by more rust than patrons, Piper overheard snippets of conversation that made her ears perk up. "...the Nova Run... biggest purse in the galaxy..." "...insane obstacles... only the craziest pilots..." The Nova Run. Every five years, a legendary, unsanctioned race that carved a brutal path through the galaxy’s most treacherous locales. Wormholes that shifted without warning, asteroid fields denser than a politician’s lies, active war zones where stray laser fire was considered a hazard of the track. The prize money? Enough to buy a small moon, let alone Jax’s freedom. A dangerous idea, reckless even by her standards, began to bloom in Piper’s mind. She was banned from the Pilots’ Guild, her name mud after that… incident involving a shipment of sentient space-ferrets and a very confused customs official. But the galaxy had a short memory, especially when there were enough zeros in a prize fund. A fabricated identity, a fast ship, and a whole lot of daring – it just might work. Her first stop: Tanner Knox. Her ex. A former Galactic Enforcer with a permanent five o’clock shadow and a disposition as sunny as a neutron star. He’d traded in chasing criminals for the slightly less stressful life of a security consultant on the dusty, forgotten planet of Kepler-186f. Finding him wasn't hard; he was usually at the "Rusty Sprocket," the only bar on the planet that served something resembling actual whiskey. Tanner was exactly as she remembered: slumped over a chipped synth-wood table, nursing a drink that looked suspiciously like motor oil, his gaze fixed on a flickering holographic chess game he was clearly losing. "Well, well, well," he grunted, not even bothering to look up. "If it isn't Piper Lane. Last I heard, you were charming space slugs out on the Glargon Belt." "Very funny, Knox," Piper said, sliding into the opposite seat. The air crackled with the unresolved tension that always seemed to linger between them. "I need your help." Tanner finally looked up, his steel-grey eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Your help? Piper, the last time you needed my help, I ended up explaining to my superior officer why a shipment of 'exotic singing space-plants' had taken root in the evidence locker." "This is different," Piper insisted, leaning forward. "This is about Jax." Tanner’s expression softened, a flicker of the man she once knew breaking through the cynicism. He knew about Jax. He’d even tried to help, within the rigid confines of the law, before Piper’s… extracurricular activities… had complicated things. She laid out her plan – the Nova Run, the forged identity, the astronomical prize money. Tanner listened, his initial skepticism slowly giving way to a grudging interest, mixed with a healthy dose of disbelief. "Piper, that race is suicide with extra steps," he said, taking a long swig of his drink. "And you're banned from flying anything faster than a planetary почтальон." "Details, details," Piper waved a dismissive hand. "I need someone who knows their way around a ship, someone who can keep my impulsive tendencies in check, and someone who… well, who I trust, deep down, even if you are a grumpy old space-cop." A ghost of a smile touched Tanner’s lips. "Grumpy former space-cop. And trust is a strong word coming from you, Lane." But beneath the sarcasm, Piper saw a spark. The dull routine of his current life had clearly lost its luster. The lure of danger, the thrill of the impossible – it was in his eyes. "Think about it, Tanner," she pressed. "Enough credits to get Jax out, a chance to stick it to the Pilots’ Guild, and… well, maybe a little bit of the old adrenaline rush?" He sighed, running a hand over his stubbled chin. "Adrenaline rush. That's putting it mildly. Alright, Lane. I'm in. But if we end up stranded in a black hole full of rabid space-squirrels, I'm blaming you." With Tanner reluctantly on board, their next destination was Neonexus, a sprawling, neon-drenched metropolis built on a colossal asteroid. It was a haven for tech-heads, smugglers, and anyone looking to soup up a starship beyond recognition. This was where they’d find Skye Monroe. Skye was a legend in the underground engineering circles – a prodigy with an uncanny ability to coax impossible performance out of even the most dilapidated machinery. Finding her workshop was an adventure in itself, located in the labyrinthine underbelly of Neonexus, amidst a cacophony of buzzing energy conduits and the metallic tang of welding fumes. Skye, hunched over a complex array of glowing wires and humming processors, didn't even look up when they entered. Her wild, purple-streaked hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and her fingers danced across a holographic interface with astonishing speed. "Can I help you… or are you here to admire my collection of vintage circuit boards?" she asked, her voice sharp and laced with a dry wit. Piper cut to the chase, outlining their Nova Run plan and the need for a miracle-working engineer. Skye finally looked up, her intense green eyes scrutinizing them. "The Nova Run? You're insane," she stated flatly, then a slow grin spread across her face. "Tell me more." The challenge, the sheer audacity of the plan, clearly appealed to her. The promise of access to cutting-edge, often illegal, technology to modify their ship sealed the deal. It was amidst the chaotic energy of Skye's workshop, while Piper was attempting to explain the finer points of "not blowing us all to smithereens," that Blip made his entrance. He wasn't exactly grand. More like… he just sort of was. Attached to Piper’s shoulder, looking for all the galaxy like a metallic, slightly dented toaster with blinking antennae and tiny, surprisingly expressive eyes, was Blip. "The only limits are the ones you place on yourself!" Blip chirped, his voice a surprisingly deep baritone that didn't quite fit his diminutive size. Piper flinched. "Oh, for the love of… guys, meet Blip." Tanner stared, his jaw slightly agape. "That… that's a toaster." "He prefers 'symbiotic life-form with advanced cognitive functions,'" Blip corrected, his antennae twitching indignantly. "And I am not a toaster! I am a… a personal growth facilitator!" Skye, however, was already circling Blip with a fascinated gleam in her eye. "What in the nebula is that thing?" "He… sort of attached himself to me during a smuggling run on Xylos," Piper explained, trying to sound nonchalant about the talking parasite clinging to her jacket. "Claims he's my coach. Mostly spouts motivational nonsense." "Nonsense?" Blip sputtered. "These are the timeless wisdoms that propel champions to victory! 'Every setback is a setup for a comeback!'" Throughout the initial modifications to their ship – a battered but surprisingly resilient freighter Piper had acquired through less-than-legal means and christened the "Stardust Drifter" – Blip’s unsolicited advice became a constant source of amusement and mild irritation. "Skye, are you sure about rerouting the plasma conduits like that?" Tanner would ask, wrench in hand. "Relax, Knox," Skye would retort, sparks flying from her welding torch. "I know what I'm doing." "Doubt kills more dreams than failure ever will!" Blip would interject from Piper’s shoulder. The Stardust Drifter slowly transformed under Skye’s expert touch. Engines were stripped down and rebuilt with experimental components, shields were reinforced with scavenged military-grade plating, and a ludicrously oversized booster engine was jury-rigged to the rear. It was a patchwork masterpiece, held together by ingenuity, stubbornness, and a whole lot of duct tape. Finally, the day arrived for registration. The spaceport of Port Obscura buzzed with a chaotic mix of heavily modified racers, their eccentric crews, and shady bookmakers. Piper, her forged ID – "Penny Larkspur, independent transport specialist" – feeling flimsy in her sweaty palm, stood in line. Blip, perched precariously on her shoulder, offered his usual unwavering support. "Believe in your authentic self… even if it's a little bit fabricated!" he whispered as a stern-looking race official with cybernetic eyes scanned her credentials. The official’s gaze lingered on her face for a moment too long, making Piper’s heart pound. But after a tense silence, he grunted and stamped her entry form. As Piper breathed a sigh of relief, a figure detached itself from the bustling crowd. Tall and cloaked, their face obscured by shadow, they watched her with an unnerving stillness. As Piper turned, a sliver of light caught a distinctive scar on their hand – a scar she knew all too well. A cold smirk spread across the figure's hidden face. They knew it was her. They knew it was Piper Lane. Read next chapters (1-4) here: https://goingacross.space/blogs/word-jelly-m/nova-run-1-fun-space-opera More fun sci-fi stories and space opera on Word Jelly M by Going Across! https://goingacross.space/blogs/word-jelly-m submitted by /u/going_across to r/goingacross [link] [comments]

Been in search of ways to improve the grip on my pistols. I’ve tried hockey tape which wasn’t to my liking. Tried skateboard tape which was not bad but a bit rough on my hands. Wondering if any of you have used lizard skin and if so how you liked it and would love to see pictures. Thanks in advance. submitted by /u/medinaj682000 to r/concealedcarry [link] [comments]

My wife has a Cricut, and I have the template for a grip I currently have on my pistol. Has anyone used skateboard tape as grip, and how did you find it? I don’t think anything too gritty would be good. submitted by /u/Charlie_Foxtrot4 to r/CompetitionShooting [link] [comments]

My friend has been obsessed with ben 10 recently so it got me thinking of the number 10. Here are 100 random goofy abilities in no order whatsoever, there are also a few abilities that are purposefully made to synergize with each other so look out for those: ​ Doors act as waypoints for you. Every time you enter a door, you can exit to any door you've ever gone through before You can split each one of your arms into 5 arms of equal length, but each arm is 5x thinner and only has 1 finger Run at up to Mach 10 speeds, but only when walking backwards You can create bitch versions of yourself and others Choose 1 object to be psychically linked to, you can now move and manipulate that object with your mind Whenever you need information on something, a 500 page book will appear containing the info you need, but you'll have to search the book to find it Summon a butler named Jerry by yelling "OH, JERRY!!!!!" as loud as you can. He will obey any command, be your bodyguard, make you any food you want, always give you good advice, be your friend, your therapist, and your attorney. You can solve any problem ever, but you only have 99 uses When wearing a pair of glasses, you can read things 10 times faster and understand what you read better. It also translates written language When you wear a pair of sunglasses, your brain automatically tunes out anything you don't care about, unless it poses a legitimate threat to you You can make toys function as they would if they were real, but they remain the same size You can jump into paintings and photographs like in Super Mario 64 Every dream you have is a premonition dream, it has some form of hint as to something that will happen in the future, and you have to figure it out Every time you are rejected in any way, your strength speed and intelligence doubles You can store time in a bottle. You can open the bottle to skip hours of your life and use them later on, plus you get 1 hour per day to spend You can perfectly stack things on top of each other in a way that they wont fall over You can calmly defuse any toxic situation or argument at will Your mental capabilities multiply by 100, and you can now have 100% control of your body and all it's functions You become a master building and can build anything from an IKEA flatpack chair to an entire aircraft carrier effortlessly and with limited materials in a matter of seconds. It basically works like being a master builder in the Lego movie/video game universe, and also it makes the Lego star wars building sound effect when done. When you vomit, your puke will mold into a little minion that will obey your commands You can do cool stunts and parkour and backflips and stuff effortlessly without risk of getting hurt Become undetectable when standing perfectly still Travel through power lines and internet lines Ride a skateboard at sports car speeds perfectly without risk of messing up or hurting yourself or others Pull things out of reflections, but they will be mirrored. Basically if you pull a red mug out of a mirror it will be blue, if you pull a person out a reflection in water their personality will be the opposite of their real personality, etc. Burger manipulation: create, destroy, reshape and move burgers You gain the abilities of the current pets you own, i.e. enhanced smell if you own a dog, night vision if you own a cat, etc. You can communicate with animals, but they all hate you now You can change your voice at will to have any volume or accent You'll never be hungry and never be full, and you'll always have room for more food. you also don't need food to survive and any food you eat will taste delicious Whenever you hold a tape measure you can learn the measurements of any object you see. You can also use it as a grappling hook You become smarter. By how much depends on how stupid you were before. if you were average intelligence, you become decently smarter, if you were slightly below average, you become a super genius, and if you were really dumb, you become virtually omniscient You can control what material you're made out of, but your mobility is affected. if you become water or air you can move around freely but if you become metal or rock you wont be able to move. You obtain up to 10 new forms. Each for has you as a base, and you can add on up to 4 abilities from any living organism both alive and extinct to each form. but you cant pick the same organism twice You get a 35% off discount on anything if you offer to pay in reddit karma (they will reject the offer but provide the discount out of pity) You have a pet dragon who loves you and takes care of himself and comes with his own little dragon hut to stay in You can make deals with the devil to do stuff for you but they will come at a price You can go to heaven/hell without having to die 1st Every time you do a good thing, a good thing will happen to you that is twice as good as the good thing you did You can blatantly cheat at any game and nobody will question you You can heal any living being by touching them, doesn't work on yourself You can shoot a lighting bolt that turns non living objects into minions You can combine yourself with objects and assimilate them into you to gain the abilities of said objects (lamps for light manipulation, lighters for fire manipulation, computers to gain remote access to the internet, etc.) You can manipulate your perception of time. You can make one minute feel like one hour to you, or make one year feel like a day to you You can add, subtract, multiply and divide anything by any number between 0-10 (you can multiply a person by zero to make them disappear, you can multiply your net worth by 5, you can add 10 points to your test results, etc.) Also you cannot perform this ability on the same thing more than once, but you can reverse the process and perform the ability again You can make anything edible. Spoiled milk, dirty water, moldy bread, even rusty screws. Just touch them and they will purify and be edible, nutritious and tasty You can travel in time to any point of the current day by changing the time on your clock You become a god tier master of using yoyos and you can utilize them to their full potential to the point you can use them in various ways, like you can hit things with it and extend your reach, pull things to you, trip over people, roll on your own yoyo for transportation, anything. you also get a set of indestructible yoyos with 2,000 km of reach If you tell someone to shut up they will shut up for an hour or until you undo it Your words greatly affect people. If you complement them they will feel amazing and will probably succeed at what they do. If you insult them, they will take it seriously, be very hurt and will probably be worse at the particular thing you insulted them about You never have to wait in lines for stuff you want to do, and you'll always be last in line for things you don't want to do Pick up to 20 people or objects, you can now swap places with any of those people/objects at will. If you select a person to switch with they have to agree to it 1st You can bring back the dead, but they will come back in a random new body. This new body could be the body of a person, or an animal You can calculate math like a calculator. You aren't smarter or anything, you can just instantly get the answer to any written math problem You can detect the problems of things. You can't solve them, you can just identify them You can get drunk without any of the negative side effects of drinking, also you get drunk really easily You can see signals like internet and radar and such. This ability can be turned on and off Any device you own will now have infinite storage space, 8k HD resolution, 1000 FPS, immunity to viruses, will always have internet and will never have any errors. You can also apply this ability to your friend's devices You can figure out perfect solutions to problems, but they will be extremely farfetched and impractical and nobody will take you seriously You can choose 1 law of physics that you will now be able to break You will be extremely skilled at every skill except for the skills required for whatever your job is. This will change dynamically depending on what your job is at the time, and it wont affect any of your skills negatively You can make tiny Mandela effect like changes to the world. Only one random human being will notice each change you make, nobody will believe you if you admit to changing it You have enhanced productivity to the point of you being guaranteed to accomplish any realistic goal and meet any deadline You can literally leap over Mount Everest in a single bound You can adapt to any situation. If you're drowning, you gain water breathing abilities. If you need to climb a tree, your grip is improved to climb them, etc. Anything you hear or see you can convert to an mp4 or mp3 file on your computer at perfect quality You can change your voice in any way and also throw your voice in any spot within a 50km radius You have access to a secret underground hideout connected by a series of tunnels through the earth in which all the most powerful individuals discuss things You'll never be offended, disappointed, afraid or feel any negative emotion from anything anymore. You'll still receive the benefits of negative emotions, like increased productivity when stressed or increased carefulness when afraid, but besides that you will just always feel good You will always make the right decisions, no matter what they are People will always believe your tricks, for example if you lie to someone that you won the lottery as a prank they will believe you. They wont believe anything you say, just anything that involves trickery of some sort. You cant just lie to people and say you're the president and then get to be the president, or something like that, basically You can open an F3 menu like in Minecraft that will tell you your geographical coordinate, what city/country you're in, and other information like that You can always tell when people are lying or telling the truth, and you can cause people to tell the truth to their highest ability You can savor food better. When you eat food, you can eat it in a way that will make it taste better, and the good taste will stay for longer. It also helps make the food more nutritious and removes aftertaste You can heal yourself by briefly ascending as a holy light shines upon you and heals you with an angelic choir in the background Your fingers now act as guns. When you do a finger gun, it will work as an actual pistol. You can also use 2 hands to make it work as a shotgun. The bullets also never miss, they make a cartoon "pew" sound effect when shot, and they don't leave behind any blood or gore or anything You can actually go super sayin 1 or 2, but you have to scream out loud as hard as you can. it also only works if at least 1 person that doesn't know you have this power is able to hear you and identify you are the one screaming You choose to share your abilities to 5 people of you choosing. This takes up a slot of your abilities, but doesn't affect them otherwise You are able to do anything better than the people you envy. If there's a person who's better at you at a particular skill and you envy them, you will gain these skills and keep them permanently You can clone any item of your choosing by slamming the nearest desk/table and scream "ANOTHER!" Whenever you vote for something, the thing you vote will win guaranteed You gain the power of convenience. Don't want to go to school today? Class canceled! stuck in traffic? Not anymore You can turn yourself into a giant version of yourself that's around a third of the size of a skyscraper You can manipulate the size of objects You can create your own pocket dimensions in which you are omnipotent and anything can happen, but you don't really get any powers in real life, only in the pocket dimension. also nothing created in the pocket dimension can be taken out Everyone's opinions align with yours, and change dynamically Whenever there is an item that comes in a set, or requires/works better with other items, you get the full set with it. I.E. if you have a grill you don't need to pay for charcoal or gas tanks and stuff You are guaranteed to get anything right on the 1st try, this power can be turned on/off if you want No Power for this one, you just become a really good person :) You obtain 1 item from any fictional universe you choose, as long as it is planetary-level powerful or below You can choose 1 law of physics that you will now be able to break You can do the Thanos snap in real life. You can choose specific people to be snapped, half the life on a planet, half the life in the universe, you can limit it to just humans or all life forms, and you can bring people back the same way Have the ability to speak fluent dolphin in landlocked countries You can casually talk to god. He could do stuff for you, but he probably won't. you can just talk to him as if he were your friend Every time you do something cool or impressive, Barrack Obama will be there to whiteness it Gain the ability to wish for anything, but you'll be really dumb and only wish for dumbass shit. You also can't wish to be smart, or become smarter by any other means. You become nigh omnipotent with the only limit being that you will die within 2 weeks and you cant do anything to stop it You become nigh omnipotent for a random day of each year you live. you wont know what day it is, you'll just have to guess Instead of another power, upgrade one of your existing powers Roll a random power on the Superpower Wiki (hover over the explore tab and click random page) ​ submitted by /u/ausernamethatisnotta to r/6Perks [link] [comments]

[Part 8] [Part 10] Unlike the vast open spaces of the garage, the armory was a cramped, claustrophobic place, with the machinery and assembly lines packed so tightly together that it seemed Jamie and I were slipping right past the busy workers. Six long production lines snaked across the crowded room, manned by a crew of women that assembled components with robotic precision, chatting to each other above the noise. Many operated small hand-crank machines and churned out a steady flow of reloaded cartridges from piles of spent brass at the beginning of the line, some big, some small. One line produced huge rifle rounds as long as my hand, and still another dealt with monstrous steel casings the size of paper-towel rolls, packed with extra care into straw-lined wooden crates. Far to the right, a wall of sandbags stretched to the ceiling, with a doorway in it marked ‘Shooting Range; always wear ear protection’. To my left, a chest-high counter separated us from the rest of the workshop, and close to a dozen men were busy working behind it with huge machines, mills, lathes, and hydraulic presses the size of truck engines. One of the workers, a tall, lanky guy with curly red hair, looked up from his task and spotted us. He walked over to the counter, pulling his round welder’s goggles higher on his forehead, and leaned forward on one elbow with an ornery grin. “Hey pretty lady, going my way?” “Easy there, cowboy.” Resting her hip against the counter, Jamie jerked her head at me. “I’ve got a newbie here. This is Hannah Brun. Hannah, this rascal is Andrew Hoppman, chief armorer, and professional troublemaker.” Andrew straightened up at that, wiped his hand clean on his apron, and reached across the sheet metal countertop to shake mine. “Welcome to the madhouse.” I couldn’t help but smile, something about his carefree demeanor putting me at ease. “Thanks. It has been a crazy morning.” “Ha! She’s got jokes.” Andrew’s grin brightened, and he threw a wink at Jamie. “I like her already. So, I take it you’re looking for a bang-stick?” My expression slipped a little, and I blinked at him. “A what?” Jamie rolled her eyes. “A gun. You’ll have to excuse him, he gets overly stimulated around firearms.” “And around you.” Andrew’s mouth drew into a line halfway between serious and mischievous, one that froze Jamie to the spot, and brought a rosy blush to her face. “Behave.” She tried to snap at him, but the grin she wore, and the way she had to stifle a giggle, told me everything I needed to know. I dropped my gaze to my shoes so neither of them could see my disappointed grimace. Is everyone in the world in a relationship but me? “So, Brun.” Andrew turned his attention back to me and sized me up like we were in a boxing ring. “What’re you looking for? Not much in ways of options right now, what with all our metal being put towards the mechanized weapons, but I’ve got a few basic choices that could suit you.” Grateful for a distraction from my intrusive thoughts, I glanced at the Kalashnikov hanging from Jamie’s shoulder. “Well . . . I don’t know, honestly. I’ve never really used a gun before.” “A newbie in more ways than one, eh?” Andrew tapped his chin in thought, then held up a finger to dart back into the workshop. “Let me see what I’ve got.” I waited with Jamie, who seemed just as curious as I was, the two of us craning our necks to see what Andrew was up to. He stood out of sight, and above the whine and hum of machinery, I could just discern him muttering aloud to himself. “Nah, too much recoil . . . hmmm, not bad, but there’s not much ammo for it . . . nope, still gotta fix this one . . . ah hah!” Reemerging a few moments later, he placed a bundle wrapped in oily rags on the countertop, beaming with pride. “So, it might be a little unconventional for a newcomer, but you seem like the kind who can handle it. Behold . . . the Hoppman Type 9.” The gun was machined from round steel tubing, with a wooden stock on the back and a strap made from what looked like an old belt. A curved magazine stuck out of the bottom of it, and the stubby sights were welded onto the top of the tube that held the short barrel, the entire thing blued to a dull black sheen. Black skateboard tape had been wrapped around the pistol grip behind the trigger guard, and the words ‘A.H Type 9’ were stamped into one side of the receiver. Despite my nervousness about the prospect of shooting, I’d never seen a gun up close, and picking it up, I marveled at the weight of the weapon in my hands. “I designed this one myself.” Andrew pointed to each part of the firearm with earnest. “Almost everything is made here in the armory, since we don’t get much outside contact these days. The selector switch lets you make single or full-auto shots, the stock has a cleaning kit inside it, and I even added a heat shield to keep you from burning your fingers when the barrel gets hot. It’s open bolt, so it’s simple to maintain, and a breeze to shoot.” “Cool.” I turned it over in my hands, unable to stop the grin from spreading over my face. “Once you start going on combat patrols, you’ll be able to scrounge a better one.” Andrew slid a canvas bandolier with more homemade magazines across the counter to me and stacked several boxes of cartridges next to it. “After all, nine-mil won’t do much against anything bigger than a horse. But you can keep this one as long as you want. Just take good care of her; she’s one of my best after all.” My eyes widened, and I realized that he meant I could keep it. “Wait, really? It’s mine?” “Of course. Compliments of Hoppman Arms Incorporated.” Andrew made a mock bow, reached behind the counter, and produced a brown leather belt lined with a few small pouches, a knife hanging from a scabbard on the side. “Now, this is your war-belt, good for carrying small things, like spare bandages, a compass, or extra ammo for when you get paid. I even threw in a free blade, forged just this morning. You can make more money running errands for the workers or researchers outside the walls, just remember to pull your weight, and pay your fair share in taxes.” At the reminder of what such weaponry was for, I fought a churning in my guts. On one hand, I’d just been given my first ever gun, for free no less. On the other hand, that was because I would soon be going out, at night, to fight monsters that would give serial killers nightmares. It was as though I’d stumbled into an apocalyptic Christmas, a prospect both exciting and terrifying. Unabashed by my trepidation, Andrew set his hands on his hips in pride at his workmanship. “I already put your first week’s salary in the little pouch, so be sure to check out the market for stuff you might want to add, like a holster in case you come across a nice handgun. Technically it's cheaper to ‘find’ a pistol out in the zone, but who knows how its last owner treated it? If you want quality, the armory can give you the best money can buy, with free repairs and modifications.” “A true artist.” Jamie threw him a devilish smile as I slung the strap of the gun over my shoulder. “You off tonight?” Andrew winked. “Name a time and place.” She leaned across the counter to press her lips to his cheek. “I’ll come find you.” “I’ll be waiting in shower five then.” He crooned back to her, and waved goodbye as we headed for the range. It was much cooler and quieter on the other side of the sandbag wall, and a wooden partition separated us from a series of small tracks on the concrete floor that held carboard cutouts in various silhouettes. Grabbing some earmuffs from a nearby rack, Jamie showed me how to load the little pistol cartridges into the magazines from my gear and coached me on the basic rules for gun safety. Before long, I stood at the firing line, a set of protective earmuffs on my head, the weapon in my hands. “Now, since this is a submachine gun,” Jamie nudged my feet into a proper shooting stance with her boot tip, and pointed to one of the targets, a piece of paper with a vaguely human silhouette drawn on it in black marker. “It’s going to jump around a little when you’re shooting full auto, so hold on tight. It’s not like in the movies where you spray and hit everything, you’ve got to use short bursts, or you’re just wasting ammo.” I gulped, my nervousness returning. “Okay.” She met my eye and made a sly grin. “You’ll be fine. Trust me, once you get into guns, you never want to go back.” After a few more instructions on some marksmanship fundamentals, the time came, and I pushed the little metal switch from safe to semi as Jamie instructed. Letting out a shaky breath, I squeezed the smooth, cold trigger. Bang. A puff of smoke sprang up in my field of vision, and the gun jolted slightly in my hands, but other than a small nudge against my shoulder, it remained in place. I had half expected some painful jab, some horrible explosion, or uncontrollable jump of the weapon, and the smoothness of it both surprised, and confused me. Had I even fired it at all? Bang. The cardboard cutout I was aiming at jerked, and I noticed a little hole in it. “There you go.” Jamie stood to my left, her arms crossed in satisfaction. “Just aim a little lower, and to the right.” Once more, I squeezed the trigger, and shot by shot, my tension melted away. Andrew’s gun had almost no recoil, and despite the homemade sights, it was easy to aim with. The smoke wasn’t too bad, and dissipated quickly, so I sent bullets into each of the little cardboard cutouts, my aim improving by the minute. “Now,” Jamie pointed to my selector switch with a knowing glint in her eye. “Go full auto and give the trigger a light squeeze.” My throat tightened up again, and I wondered about potentially losing control of the gun, but I did as I was told. Squinting down the stubby sights of the gun, I tapped the gun’s sheet metal trigger. Brat-tat-tat-tat. Like an old-fashioned typewriter, the little gun chugged along in my grasp, spitting out a rain of brass casings from the ejection port on the right side. As it turned out, full auto was fast but controllable, and I managed to get at least five bullets in each target with light touches on the trigger. Jamie turned on the shooting range’s electric track system, making the targets move, and that added more of a challenge to it, which I found I rather enjoyed. She taught me how to change magazines at speed, and when the bolt clicked empty on my last magazine, I was grinning from ear to ear, the acrid smell of cordite in my nose. Okay, I can see why people like this. “Told you.” Jamie picked up a dented tin pail from the corner and held it out to me. “Now, for the glorious part; brass cleanup. Then, we can introduce you to the wonderful world of firearms maintenance.” I squatted with her on the cement floor, gathering the smoking casings so the women just on the other side of the wall could reload them, and felt bold enough in that moment to throw her an inquisitive look. “So, you and Andrew, huh?” Jamie made a modest shrug, her pleased smile tingeing red around her cheekbones. “He’s nice, always generous, and he makes me laugh. Not like some of the creeps who wanted to play grab-ass in high school. Plus, since he’s good at what he does, Sean doesn’t really send Andrew on many patrols, so . . . you know . . . I don’t worry as much.” That last bit stole some of the warmth from her, and Jamie’s face clouded in thought as she turned a spent pistol casing over in her palm. Pain rippled through her expression, and I remembered what Jamie had told me in her room, what she’d lost. A world long gone, like last year’s leaves, rotted beneath the summer sun. And just last week I was feeling sorry for myself for sleeping alone. “You guys are good together.” I met her gaze, trying to encourage her as best I could. “You’re really lucky.” She flashed me a grin, and Jamie stretched to crack her back. “Course I am. I’ve got Hannah the Mutant Killer with me. That’s lucky in and of itself.” Something about that name stuck in my head and dragged a smile across my face. For once, it didn’t feel like something given out of pity, or as a reflection of someone better than me. This was a true nickname, one I’d earned, and I shouldered my new submachine gun to follow Jamie out of the range, a spring in my step. Hannah the Mutant Killer. It’s got a nice ring to it. submitted by /u/RandomAppalachian468 to r/cant_sleep [link] [comments]

[Part 8] [Part 10] Unlike the vast open spaces of the garage, the armory was a cramped, claustrophobic place, with the machinery and assembly lines packed so tightly together that it seemed Jamie and I were slipping right past the busy workers. Six long production lines snaked across the crowded room, manned by a crew of women that assembled components with robotic precision, chatting to each other above the noise. Many operated small hand-crank machines and churned out a steady flow of reloaded cartridges from piles of spent brass at the beginning of the line, some big, some small. One line produced huge rifle rounds as long as my hand, and still another dealt with monstrous steel casings the size of paper-towel rolls, packed with extra care into straw-lined wooden crates. Far to the right, a wall of sandbags stretched to the ceiling, with a doorway in it marked ‘Shooting Range; always wear ear protection’. To my left, a chest-high counter separated us from the rest of the workshop, and close to a dozen men were busy working behind it with huge machines, mills, lathes, and hydraulic presses the size of truck engines. One of the workers, a tall, lanky guy with curly red hair, looked up from his task and spotted us. He walked over to the counter, pulling his round welder’s goggles higher on his forehead, and leaned forward on one elbow with an ornery grin. “Hey pretty lady, going my way?” “Easy there, cowboy.” Resting her hip against the counter, Jamie jerked her head at me. “I’ve got a newbie here. This is Hannah Brun. Hannah, this rascal is Andrew Hoppman, chief armorer, and professional troublemaker.” Andrew straightened up at that, wiped his hand clean on his apron, and reached across the sheet metal countertop to shake mine. “Welcome to the madhouse.” I couldn’t help but smile, something about his carefree demeanor putting me at ease. “Thanks. It has been a crazy morning.” “Ha! She’s got jokes.” Andrew’s grin brightened, and he threw a wink at Jamie. “I like her already. So, I take it you’re looking for a bang-stick?” My expression slipped a little, and I blinked at him. “A what?” Jamie rolled her eyes. “A gun. You’ll have to excuse him, he gets overly stimulated around firearms.” “And around you.” Andrew’s mouth drew into a line halfway between serious and mischievous, one that froze Jamie to the spot, and brought a rosy blush to her face. “Behave.” She tried to snap at him, but the grin she wore, and the way she had to stifle a giggle, told me everything I needed to know. I dropped my gaze to my shoes so neither of them could see my disappointed grimace. Is everyone in the world in a relationship but me? “So, Brun.” Andrew turned his attention back to me and sized me up like we were in a boxing ring. “What’re you looking for? Not much in ways of options right now, what with all our metal being put towards the mechanized weapons, but I’ve got a few basic choices that could suit you.” Grateful for a distraction from my intrusive thoughts, I glanced at the Kalashnikov hanging from Jamie’s shoulder. “Well . . . I don’t know, honestly. I’ve never really used a gun before.” “A newbie in more ways than one, eh?” Andrew tapped his chin in thought, then held up a finger to dart back into the workshop. “Let me see what I’ve got.” I waited with Jamie, who seemed just as curious as I was, the two of us craning our necks to see what Andrew was up to. He stood out of sight, and above the whine and hum of machinery, I could just discern him muttering aloud to himself. “Nah, too much recoil . . . hmmm, not bad, but there’s not much ammo for it . . . nope, still gotta fix this one . . . ah hah!” Reemerging a few moments later, he placed a bundle wrapped in oily rags on the countertop, beaming with pride. “So, it might be a little unconventional for a newcomer, but you seem like the kind who can handle it. Behold . . . the Hoppman Type 9.” The gun was machined from round steel tubing, with a wooden stock on the back and a strap made from what looked like an old belt. A curved magazine stuck out of the bottom of it, and the stubby sights were welded onto the top of the tube that held the short barrel, the entire thing blued to a dull black sheen. Black skateboard tape had been wrapped around the pistol grip behind the trigger guard, and the words ‘A.H Type 9’ were stamped into one side of the receiver. Despite my nervousness about the prospect of shooting, I’d never seen a gun up close, and picking it up, I marveled at the weight of the weapon in my hands. “I designed this one myself.” Andrew pointed to each part of the firearm with earnest. “Almost everything is made here in the armory, since we don’t get much outside contact these days. The selector switch lets you make single or full-auto shots, the stock has a cleaning kit inside it, and I even added a heat shield to keep you from burning your fingers when the barrel gets hot. It’s open bolt, so it’s simple to maintain, and a breeze to shoot.” “Cool.” I turned it over in my hands, unable to stop the grin from spreading over my face. “Once you start going on combat patrols, you’ll be able to scrounge a better one.” Andrew slid a canvas bandolier with more homemade magazines across the counter to me and stacked several boxes of cartridges next to it. “After all, nine-mil won’t do much against anything bigger than a horse. But you can keep this one as long as you want. Just take good care of her; she’s one of my best after all.” My eyes widened, and I realized that he meant I could keep it. “Wait, really? It’s mine?” “Of course. Compliments of Hoppman Arms Incorporated.” Andrew made a mock bow, reached behind the counter, and produced a brown leather belt lined with a few small pouches, a knife hanging from a scabbard on the side. “Now, this is your war-belt, good for carrying small things, like spare bandages, a compass, or extra ammo for when you get paid. I even threw in a free blade, forged just this morning. You can make more money running errands for the workers or researchers outside the walls, just remember to pull your weight, and pay your fair share in taxes.” At the reminder of what such weaponry was for, I fought a churning in my guts. On one hand, I’d just been given my first ever gun, for free no less. On the other hand, that was because I would soon be going out, at night, to fight monsters that would give serial killers nightmares. It was as though I’d stumbled into an apocalyptic Christmas, a prospect both exciting and terrifying. Unabashed by my trepidation, Andrew set his hands on his hips in pride at his workmanship. “I already put your first week’s salary in the little pouch, so be sure to check out the market for stuff you might want to add, like a holster in case you come across a nice handgun. Technically it's cheaper to ‘find’ a pistol out in the zone, but who knows how its last owner treated it? If you want quality, the armory can give you the best money can buy, with free repairs and modifications.” “A true artist.” Jamie threw him a devilish smile as I slung the strap of the gun over my shoulder. “You off tonight?” Andrew winked. “Name a time and place.” She leaned across the counter to press her lips to his cheek. “I’ll come find you.” “I’ll be waiting in shower five then.” He crooned back to her, and waved goodbye as we headed for the range. It was much cooler and quieter on the other side of the sandbag wall, and a wooden partition separated us from a series of small tracks on the concrete floor that held carboard cutouts in various silhouettes. Grabbing some earmuffs from a nearby rack, Jamie showed me how to load the little pistol cartridges into the magazines from my gear and coached me on the basic rules for gun safety. Before long, I stood at the firing line, a set of protective earmuffs on my head, the weapon in my hands. “Now, since this is a submachine gun,” Jamie nudged my feet into a proper shooting stance with her boot tip, and pointed to one of the targets, a piece of paper with a vaguely human silhouette drawn on it in black marker. “It’s going to jump around a little when you’re shooting full auto, so hold on tight. It’s not like in the movies where you spray and hit everything, you’ve got to use short bursts, or you’re just wasting ammo.” I gulped, my nervousness returning. “Okay.” She met my eye and made a sly grin. “You’ll be fine. Trust me, once you get into guns, you never want to go back.” After a few more instructions on some marksmanship fundamentals, the time came, and I pushed the little metal switch from safe to semi as Jamie instructed. Letting out a shaky breath, I squeezed the smooth, cold trigger. Bang. A puff of smoke sprang up in my field of vision, and the gun jolted slightly in my hands, but other than a small nudge against my shoulder, it remained in place. I had half expected some painful jab, some horrible explosion, or uncontrollable jump of the weapon, and the smoothness of it both surprised, and confused me. Had I even fired it at all? Bang. The cardboard cutout I was aiming at jerked, and I noticed a little hole in it. “There you go.” Jamie stood to my left, her arms crossed in satisfaction. “Just aim a little lower, and to the right.” Once more, I squeezed the trigger, and shot by shot, my tension melted away. Andrew’s gun had almost no recoil, and despite the homemade sights, it was easy to aim with. The smoke wasn’t too bad, and dissipated quickly, so I sent bullets into each of the little cardboard cutouts, my aim improving by the minute. “Now,” Jamie pointed to my selector switch with a knowing glint in her eye. “Go full auto and give the trigger a light squeeze.” My throat tightened up again, and I wondered about potentially losing control of the gun, but I did as I was told. Squinting down the stubby sights of the gun, I tapped the gun’s sheet metal trigger. Brat-tat-tat-tat. Like an old-fashioned typewriter, the little gun chugged along in my grasp, spitting out a rain of brass casings from the ejection port on the right side. As it turned out, full auto was fast but controllable, and I managed to get at least five bullets in each target with light touches on the trigger. Jamie turned on the shooting range’s electric track system, making the targets move, and that added more of a challenge to it, which I found I rather enjoyed. She taught me how to change magazines at speed, and when the bolt clicked empty on my last magazine, I was grinning from ear to ear, the acrid smell of cordite in my nose. Okay, I can see why people like this. “Told you.” Jamie picked up a dented tin pail from the corner and held it out to me. “Now, for the glorious part; brass cleanup. Then, we can introduce you to the wonderful world of firearms maintenance.” I squatted with her on the cement floor, gathering the smoking casings so the women just on the other side of the wall could reload them, and felt bold enough in that moment to throw her an inquisitive look. “So, you and Andrew, huh?” Jamie made a modest shrug, her pleased smile tingeing red around her cheekbones. “He’s nice, always generous, and he makes me laugh. Not like some of the creeps who wanted to play grab-ass in high school. Plus, since he’s good at what he does, Sean doesn’t really send Andrew on many patrols, so . . . you know . . . I don’t worry as much.” That last bit stole some of the warmth from her, and Jamie’s face clouded in thought as she turned a spent pistol casing over in her palm. Pain rippled through her expression, and I remembered what Jamie had told me in her room, what she’d lost. A world long gone, like last year’s leaves, rotted beneath the summer sun. And just last week I was feeling sorry for myself for sleeping alone. “You guys are good together.” I met her gaze, trying to encourage her as best I could. “You’re really lucky.” She flashed me a grin, and Jamie stretched to crack her back. “Course I am. I’ve got Hannah the Mutant Killer with me. That’s lucky in and of itself.” Something about that name stuck in my head and dragged a smile across my face. For once, it didn’t feel like something given out of pity, or as a reflection of someone better than me. This was a true nickname, one I’d earned, and I shouldered my new submachine gun to follow Jamie out of the range, a spring in my step. Hannah the Mutant Killer. It’s got a nice ring to it. submitted by /u/RandomAppalachian468 to r/scarystories [link] [comments]

[Part 8] [Part 10] Unlike the vast open spaces of the garage, the armory was a cramped, claustrophobic place, with the machinery and assembly lines packed so tightly together that it seemed Jamie and I were slipping right past the busy workers. Six long production lines snaked across the crowded room, manned by a crew of women that assembled components with robotic precision, chatting to each other above the noise. Many operated small hand-crank machines and churned out a steady flow of reloaded cartridges from piles of spent brass at the beginning of the line, some big, some small. One line produced huge rifle rounds as long as my hand, and still another dealt with monstrous steel casings the size of paper-towel rolls, packed with extra care into straw-lined wooden crates. Far to the right, a wall of sandbags stretched to the ceiling, with a doorway in it marked ‘Shooting Range; always wear ear protection’. To my left, a chest-high counter separated us from the rest of the workshop, and close to a dozen men were busy working behind it with huge machines, mills, lathes, and hydraulic presses the size of truck engines. One of the workers, a tall, lanky guy with curly red hair, looked up from his task and spotted us. He walked over to the counter, pulling his round welder’s goggles higher on his forehead, and leaned forward on one elbow with an ornery grin. “Hey pretty lady, going my way?” “Easy there, cowboy.” Resting her hip against the counter, Jamie jerked her head at me. “I’ve got a newbie here. This is Hannah Brun. Hannah, this rascal is Andrew Hoppman, chief armorer, and professional troublemaker.” Andrew straightened up at that, wiped his hand clean on his apron, and reached across the sheet metal countertop to shake mine. “Welcome to the madhouse.” I couldn’t help but smile, something about his carefree demeanor putting me at ease. “Thanks. It has been a crazy morning.” “Ha! She’s got jokes.” Andrew’s grin brightened, and he threw a wink at Jamie. “I like her already. So, I take it you’re looking for a bang-stick?” My expression slipped a little, and I blinked at him. “A what?” Jamie rolled her eyes. “A gun. You’ll have to excuse him, he gets overly stimulated around firearms.” “And around you.” Andrew’s mouth drew into a line halfway between serious and mischievous, one that froze Jamie to the spot, and brought a rosy blush to her face. “Behave.” She tried to snap at him, but the grin she wore, and the way she had to stifle a giggle, told me everything I needed to know. I dropped my gaze to my shoes so neither of them could see my disappointed grimace. Is everyone in the world in a relationship but me? “So, Brun.” Andrew turned his attention back to me and sized me up like we were in a boxing ring. “What’re you looking for? Not much in ways of options right now, what with all our metal being put towards the mechanized weapons, but I’ve got a few basic choices that could suit you.” Grateful for a distraction from my intrusive thoughts, I glanced at the Kalashnikov hanging from Jamie’s shoulder. “Well . . . I don’t know, honestly. I’ve never really used a gun before.” “A newbie in more ways than one, eh?” Andrew tapped his chin in thought, then held up a finger to dart back into the workshop. “Let me see what I’ve got.” I waited with Jamie, who seemed just as curious as I was, the two of us craning our necks to see what Andrew was up to. He stood out of sight, and above the whine and hum of machinery, I could just discern him muttering aloud to himself. “Nah, too much recoil . . . hmmm, not bad, but there’s not much ammo for it . . . nope, still gotta fix this one . . . ah hah!” Reemerging a few moments later, he placed a bundle wrapped in oily rags on the countertop, beaming with pride. “So, it might be a little unconventional for a newcomer, but you seem like the kind who can handle it. Behold . . . the Hoppman Type 9.” The gun was machined from round steel tubing, with a wooden stock on the back and a strap made from what looked like an old belt. A curved magazine stuck out of the bottom of it, and the stubby sights were welded onto the top of the tube that held the short barrel, the entire thing blued to a dull black sheen. Black skateboard tape had been wrapped around the pistol grip behind the trigger guard, and the words ‘A.H Type 9’ were stamped into one side of the receiver. Despite my nervousness about the prospect of shooting, I’d never seen a gun up close, and picking it up, I marveled at the weight of the weapon in my hands. “I designed this one myself.” Andrew pointed to each part of the firearm with earnest. “Almost everything is made here in the armory, since we don’t get much outside contact these days. The selector switch lets you make single or full-auto shots, the stock has a cleaning kit inside it, and I even added a heat shield to keep you from burning your fingers when the barrel gets hot. It’s open bolt, so it’s simple to maintain, and a breeze to shoot.” “Cool.” I turned it over in my hands, unable to stop the grin from spreading over my face. “Once you start going on combat patrols, you’ll be able to scrounge a better one.” Andrew slid a canvas bandolier with more homemade magazines across the counter to me and stacked several boxes of cartridges next to it. “After all, nine-mil won’t do much against anything bigger than a horse. But you can keep this one as long as you want. Just take good care of her; she’s one of my best after all.” My eyes widened, and I realized that he meant I could keep it. “Wait, really? It’s mine?” “Of course. Compliments of Hoppman Arms Incorporated.” Andrew made a mock bow, reached behind the counter, and produced a brown leather belt lined with a few small pouches, a knife hanging from a scabbard on the side. “Now, this is your war-belt, good for carrying small things, like spare bandages, a compass, or extra ammo for when you get paid. I even threw in a free blade, forged just this morning. You can make more money running errands for the workers or researchers outside the walls, just remember to pull your weight, and pay your fair share in taxes.” At the reminder of what such weaponry was for, I fought a churning in my guts. On one hand, I’d just been given my first ever gun, for free no less. On the other hand, that was because I would soon be going out, at night, to fight monsters that would give serial killers nightmares. It was as though I’d stumbled into an apocalyptic Christmas, a prospect both exciting and terrifying. Unabashed by my trepidation, Andrew set his hands on his hips in pride at his workmanship. “I already put your first week’s salary in the little pouch, so be sure to check out the market for stuff you might want to add, like a holster in case you come across a nice handgun. Technically it's cheaper to ‘find’ a pistol out in the zone, but who knows how its last owner treated it? If you want quality, the armory can give you the best money can buy, with free repairs and modifications.” “A true artist.” Jamie threw him a devilish smile as I slung the strap of the gun over my shoulder. “You off tonight?” Andrew winked. “Name a time and place.” She leaned across the counter to press her lips to his cheek. “I’ll come find you.” “I’ll be waiting in shower five then.” He crooned back to her, and waved goodbye as we headed for the range. It was much cooler and quieter on the other side of the sandbag wall, and a wooden partition separated us from a series of small tracks on the concrete floor that held carboard cutouts in various silhouettes. Grabbing some earmuffs from a nearby rack, Jamie showed me how to load the little pistol cartridges into the magazines from my gear and coached me on the basic rules for gun safety. Before long, I stood at the firing line, a set of protective earmuffs on my head, the weapon in my hands. “Now, since this is a submachine gun,” Jamie nudged my feet into a proper shooting stance with her boot tip, and pointed to one of the targets, a piece of paper with a vaguely human silhouette drawn on it in black marker. “It’s going to jump around a little when you’re shooting full auto, so hold on tight. It’s not like in the movies where you spray and hit everything, you’ve got to use short bursts, or you’re just wasting ammo.” I gulped, my nervousness returning. “Okay.” She met my eye and made a sly grin. “You’ll be fine. Trust me, once you get into guns, you never want to go back.” After a few more instructions on some marksmanship fundamentals, the time came, and I pushed the little metal switch from safe to semi as Jamie instructed. Letting out a shaky breath, I squeezed the smooth, cold trigger. Bang. A puff of smoke sprang up in my field of vision, and the gun jolted slightly in my hands, but other than a small nudge against my shoulder, it remained in place. I had half expected some painful jab, some horrible explosion, or uncontrollable jump of the weapon, and the smoothness of it both surprised, and confused me. Had I even fired it at all? Bang. The cardboard cutout I was aiming at jerked, and I noticed a little hole in it. “There you go.” Jamie stood to my left, her arms crossed in satisfaction. “Just aim a little lower, and to the right.” Once more, I squeezed the trigger, and shot by shot, my tension melted away. Andrew’s gun had almost no recoil, and despite the homemade sights, it was easy to aim with. The smoke wasn’t too bad, and dissipated quickly, so I sent bullets into each of the little cardboard cutouts, my aim improving by the minute. “Now,” Jamie pointed to my selector switch with a knowing glint in her eye. “Go full auto and give the trigger a light squeeze.” My throat tightened up again, and I wondered about potentially losing control of the gun, but I did as I was told. Squinting down the stubby sights of the gun, I tapped the gun’s sheet metal trigger. Brat-tat-tat-tat. Like an old-fashioned typewriter, the little gun chugged along in my grasp, spitting out a rain of brass casings from the ejection port on the right side. As it turned out, full auto was fast but controllable, and I managed to get at least five bullets in each target with light touches on the trigger. Jamie turned on the shooting range’s electric track system, making the targets move, and that added more of a challenge to it, which I found I rather enjoyed. She taught me how to change magazines at speed, and when the bolt clicked empty on my last magazine, I was grinning from ear to ear, the acrid smell of cordite in my nose. Okay, I can see why people like this. “Told you.” Jamie picked up a dented tin pail from the corner and held it out to me. “Now, for the glorious part; brass cleanup. Then, we can introduce you to the wonderful world of firearms maintenance.” I squatted with her on the cement floor, gathering the smoking casings so the women just on the other side of the wall could reload them, and felt bold enough in that moment to throw her an inquisitive look. “So, you and Andrew, huh?” Jamie made a modest shrug, her pleased smile tingeing red around her cheekbones. “He’s nice, always generous, and he makes me laugh. Not like some of the creeps who wanted to play grab-ass in high school. Plus, since he’s good at what he does, Sean doesn’t really send Andrew on many patrols, so . . . you know . . . I don’t worry as much.” That last bit stole some of the warmth from her, and Jamie’s face clouded in thought as she turned a spent pistol casing over in her palm. Pain rippled through her expression, and I remembered what Jamie had told me in her room, what she’d lost. A world long gone, like last year’s leaves, rotted beneath the summer sun. And just last week I was feeling sorry for myself for sleeping alone. “You guys are good together.” I met her gaze, trying to encourage her as best I could. “You’re really lucky.” She flashed me a grin, and Jamie stretched to crack her back. “Course I am. I’ve got Hannah the Mutant Killer with me. That’s lucky in and of itself.” Something about that name stuck in my head and dragged a smile across my face. For once, it didn’t feel like something given out of pity, or as a reflection of someone better than me. This was a true nickname, one I’d earned, and I shouldered my new submachine gun to follow Jamie out of the range, a spring in my step. Hannah the Mutant Killer. It’s got a nice ring to it. submitted by /u/RandomAppalachian468 to u/RandomAppalachian468 [link] [comments]

Bought this as a slightly larger size edc to supplement my modded out p365xl. Quickly supplanted that as my go-to EDC. shoots like a much bigger gun, and conceals pretty well. F series grip just melts into my hand. Doesn't feel like a compromise on durability, handling or capacity like other small carry guns do. It's like a more concealable compact duty pistol. I added some skateboard tape as a thumb index point and some Howies hockey tape to give an ever so slight palm swell and sweat wicking for the hot florida days. (not that it really needed it with the awesome texture. I know I'll cop flak for the hockey tape but it works for me. Pictured: pdp f 3.5 Holosun eps 6moa red dot Streamlight TLR7a Howies hockey tape Random skateboard grip tape cut to fit indexing points. Guerilla-tactical low pro light compatible with dcc monoblock submitted by /u/Agitated-Ad5286 to r/Walther [link] [comments]

For the tldr; see the conclusion at the bottom. NOT MY Springfield Armory 1911 DS Prodigy 4.25\" AOS, but one of many 10 yards offhand bullseyes from its outstanding barrel DISCLAIMER: As a owner of a Staccato P Duo, my friend wanted me to be with him for his first shots out of the box of his new Springfield Armory 1911 DS Prodigy 4.25" AOS. I also own a SA Ronin 5" that I like quite a bit, so I would consider myself a happy customer of both brands but neither a fanboy nor hater of either. The P & Ronin are but two of my large collection and my history as firearms owner dates back to 1980, and I shoot around 2800+ rounds per month through a wide assortment of firearms in my collection. I've been seeing the good reviews of the Prodigy online mixed with the horror stories of new owners declaring this gun to be a piece of junk, so I was excited to separate fact from fiction when my friend said he would be visiting me with his never shot 4.25" Prodigy that he had just purchased. I wondered, were the reviewers shills just being nice because they got a free gun from SA or were the users just idiots not use to the challenges of the 1911/2011 platform that don't exist in more common handguns that I enjoy in my collection from CZ, Canik, Glock, Beretta, Sig, Walther and more. I'm Not New to 1911 Problems It should be noted that while I enjoy my Staccato P DUO, it's first 30 rounds were 100% stovepipes on every shot, and I had a warranty replacement of the barrel. As such, I don't consider Staccato to be a perfect brand, and IMHO it's not on par with the 100% reliability of my CZ TSO or Shadow 2 - both of which ran without issue straight out of the box with no advanced cleaning or lube. My Ronin also had the occasional issue (once every 50+ rounds) with not returning to battery, but like the Staccato, a quick 2 weeks round trip back to SA had it all sorted and it's been trouble free ever since. I had seen a similar problem with my Sig M17 (just like Hickok45 did on his M17 video), so knew that greasing the slide and a using a different/heavier spring was a easy solution to fix the problem, but I wanted my Ronin to run without modifications using its factory GI style recoil system. The SA gunsmith that took my Ronin back hand polished the internals, removed my idiot scratch, and put a notch in the slide stop to make it easy to put back in - all free of charge - so it's been Staccato P reliable and just as accurate ever since. These experiences would prove to be helpful as I'd get to know the Prodigy. First Shots Disaster Since this wasn't my gun, my friend had the honor of shooting the first shots - straight out of the box with nothing done to the gun. We had loaded the factory mags with Sig Sauer 9mm +P 124gr M17 FMJ thinking that high quality hot ammo would be great for breaking it in. It went like many described - shoot / jam (failure to feed) - shoot / jam, etc..., so we tried with my Staccato (Dawson G3) mags and got the same results. What's worse, we even had the gun lock up so hard that we couldn't pull the trigger or rack the slide with a loaded round in the chamber, so it was a bit of a panic moment as slamming the sights on the edge of the table to clear the jam wasn't a desirable option for a brand new gun. Fortunately after removing the guide rod (which probably wasn't necessary) and a lot of fighting with the slide, we finally got it open and ejected the round. With the guide rod out, we used this opportunity to take the gun apart to make sure that everything was ok with the spring assembly, and we gave it a little lube. Once together again, we had the same exact problem - pure disaster where we couldn't get two shots off as it literally jammed after every shot. I had been following many of the good and bad stories about the Prodigy, so I had remembered someone said that their resolution to the problem as to use Tulammo steel case ammo as their theory was that steel doesn't expand like brass. I had brought some along to the range "just in case" and sure enough when we put in the Tula 115gr, it ran through a whole mag without a single issue. WTF??!!! The Solution I then tried Norma Range & Training 115gr, and it ran without issue as well through all four mags. The problem seemed to be solved, so I tried the Sig M17 124gr +P ammo again and got the jamming problems again. I tried the 115gr once again and had zero issues. Random ammo found at the range that had been outdoors in the weather for who knows how long - ALL ran 100% without issue in the Prodigy I started searching around the range for abandoned garbage ammo - you know, the stuff that people tell you to never pick up and shoot? Well we found a bunch (see the pic) and loaded a mag. My friend decided to let me shoot it (ha ha) and every round - some of which were obvious reloads - ran without issue. Well, the last steel case round loaded and fired fine, but it had a failure to eject. Who knows how long it had been at the range in the Seattle rain, so I was happy that it fed and went bang so I blamed the issue more on the old round than the gun for that last shot as that was the only failure to eject we had seen (previous issues were always failure to feed or failure to return to battery). My experience with pistols made me conclude that the root cause is the factory spring was too light for the +P ammo as we had successfully tried at least 14 different ammos that worked (including the range scraps). Problem solved! Or was it? Day 2 - Uh oh! After a "successful" day at the range, my friend polished up his Prodigy making it look good as new again. This included cleaning the rails to remove all that nasty looking grease and grime. He would go out to the range without me and struggle to get through 200 rounds of Sellier & Bellot 115gr without a jam. Day 3 - Success Armed with 300 rounds of Blazer 115gr, the day started off terrible once again with failure to feed issues. After a mag of that nonsense, I took the gun apart and lubed the heck out of it with Brian Enos Slide Glide in all the spots that SA gunsmiths recommend adding oil in this video on 1911 maintenance. When I say lube the heck out of it, I mean every rail had a full solid strip of red grease in it, the inside of the slide was lubed at the front where anything moves, and anything from the lower that touches the upper was covered in red grease - thick. We racked it a few times and hand one or two FTF's, but after that it ran without issue for the rest of the day with 4 different mags for all 298 rounds. This makes me go back to my day 1 theory that it's a spring issue, but like the Staccato P, this thing can't run dry. The tolerances are tight, so dry and tight on a new gun don't get along with each other - at least with the finish used on this gun (more on that later). I feel safe in saying the problem is understood and solved - at least for this sample size of one. A heavier spring seems in order to help resolve this problem, and plenty of slide glide seems to be a must. Viewpoint of a Staccato P Duo owner on Staccato Pricing After I got my Springfield Armory Ronin 1911 last year, I became quickly enchanted with the platform despite the aforementioned hiccups. However, I didn't like the small capacity magazines so a forthcoming (at the time) standard capacity magazine ban in my state prompted me to invest in a Staccato P Duo. It's a cool looking gun and very accurate, but I have a lot of great pistols so it didn't wow me as it often does for people who are moving up to one from typical 500 - 700 9mm's. As such, I quickly began to wonder - is this thing really worth 3x the price of my Ronin? Another friend picked a Staccato XC at the same time, so we enjoyed our new pistols together and I became even more happy that I didn't splurge on a XC as both guns seemed to have a markup that was about 40% more than what I believe it is worth - based on my experiences with my collection. To be fair Staccato is a small company, so they aren't going to get the volume pricing on components that companies like CZ, Walther, H&K or Beretta will so it's easy to dismiss that they are probably more expensive because it just costs them a lot more. However, when I see these prices for these options on a brand new gun being made to order: $300 Optics Ready $100 DLC $200 Threaded Barrel $249 Serrations $100 G2 Tac Texture I have to call BS. Sure, adding those things after the fact on a completed gun is expensive, but if I'm starting from a clean slate then the cost of adding a thread, end cap and gasket isn't $200. An optics cut on a blank slide isn't $300, and doing that cut while adding serrations ($249) certainly isn't $549 worth of labor and a reasonable profit. A G2 Tac Texture isn't going to cost them a penny more than the regular texture if the gun hasn't been made, so this - like most of the options - are just a matter of someone reaching in to a different bin when pulling parts to assemble a made to order gun. Yes, I'll give the benefit of the doubt and say the craftsmanship of the Staccato P is worthy of a premium price, but based on my experience with high end firearms it feels like a $2000 pistol with all of the aforementioned upgrades, and $1799 for the base model. I paid $1799 for my CZ TSO, and the P is not hundreds of dollars better. In fact, I'd argue the trigger and reliability are inferior to the TSO. When you look at the $2000 premium for the XC, the markup seems even more obscene. The XC is a fantastic gun, but it's no Nighthawk or Atlas. Why do I mention all of this? Because, Yes, I think it's both possible and in consumers best interest for others to compete in the entry level 1911 double stack space as the 4.4" Staccato P Steel Optics Ready ($2399) is not $900 more gun than the Steel Prodigy 4.25" AOS ($1499). What makes the Staccato P Better? Before I jump into my thoughts on the Prodigy, I'll hit on what's great about the Staccato P and why I DO think it is worth more than the Prodigy - the question is - how much more? Key advantages I see when looking at the P vs the Prodigy: Ambidextrous safety with a superior width and feel Superior trigger fit and finish - it's definitely smoother, but not significantly lighter Outstanding Dawson Magazines & Tooless Guide Rod Magwell Significantly better aesthetics & finish quality/durability Quality control & legendary service I put a $550 premium on all of that, so if I paid $2050 for a steel Staccato P optics ready with 3 magazines then I think that would be a fair markup. Keep in mind the Prodigy's aren't sold at cost, so there's probably a healthy markup for them too. Now for my thoughts on the Prodigy ​ This piece of crap spring will go down in history as the part that ruined the Prodigy launch. Tell the bean counters that they were pennywise and pound foolish! Yes, the initial issues my friend had with his Prodigy are unacceptable. SA should have used a better spring and shipped with enough lube or grease on them to ensure smooth out of the box operation. Yes, people are supposed to read the manual and do an initial cleaning, but the reality is that most don't. Guns are reliable these days, so you can take most CZ, Canik, Beretta, or Glock straight out of the box and they are going to run. Yes, every manufacturer has lemons and some people just limp wrist, but the fact is that the Prodigy failures should be the exception - not the rule. My Ronin wasn't without some minor issues that required it to go back for a fast service visit, so I won't deny that Springfield Armory gets a big fat F for initial quality in my book. My Favorite Features The barrel and sights on the Prodigy are worthy of being spoken about in the same sentence as a Staccato. Simply put, I think they are excellent and I'm a Dawson and precision barrel snob. It's vibrant green sight that was spot on from the factory made me a tack driver with it, and that barrel is as good as my Staccato or even my CZ TSO - it's outstanding. Both are A+ features of this gun. Here's a picture after 3 days of shooting with no cleaning on the barrel, so there are some cell phone picture artifacts that will make trolls scream scratch, dent, etc... but I can assure you that there were no scratches, dents or issues with the crown in real life. I just had a crappy cell phone picture, and the gun is gone now (my friend flew back home) so I can't get anything better than this... The barrel and sights are excellent While not a Dawson sight, something about those little dots in the fiber optic shown below helped me to lock my eye on that front sight even better. I think this helped contribute to my above average accuracy with this setup. The blacked out rear serrated sight helped me to not be distracted by dumb rear dot sights as the u notch made it simple to have equal height and light. The thin front sight made it great for precision handiwork at 20 yards and under. I was wicked accurate with the U notch, despite turning my nose up at it on first glance I think they are excellent and the grip texture going all the way up on the grip side panels made it a joy to shoot. Skateboard tape like texture on the sides and front with checkering on the back, glued this grip to my hands I was worried at first that the front strap was going to be garbage since it wasn't checkered, but it proved to be as good as the G2 Tac Texture on the Staccato in real life. Grip texture was on par with Staccatos G2 Tac Texture IMHO Now for the Bad Features While not all 1911 shooters will agree, I think the worst part of the 1911 is the stupid guide rod systems (both GI & Full Length Guide Rod). After using the tooless Dawson, and captured guide rods on modern pistols, I'm done with nostalgia on this point and wish that legacy would go the way of blacked out front sights. The Prodigy's biggest cost savings seem to have started in the looks department as it seems to rival Glock for the most boring design. That lack of design and attention to detail is where Staccato shines, so if that's your most important criteria then Staccato is where you should put your money as there's no comparison there. What the hell is up with the gap on this trigger? The gritty trigger - which shockingly is worse than my entry level Ronin - holds it back from being a true target pistol. I also agree with the complaints that the slide release is a bear to engage and disengage due to the terrible relief cut shown in the photo above. They need to come down farther with it, so both the trigger and slide stop get a C in my book. I've seen worse for both, but for a $1499 pistol this is pathetic. The other place that makes me shake my head, and confirm that the internet bashing is on point is on the finish. Seriously, after two range visits this is what the underside of the gun looks like: The Cerakote finish on the Prodigy is garbage It seems to be both soft steel and less than paper thin cerakote on this gun, so if you are the type that likes safe queens then this isn't the gun for you. If you consider your gun as a tool and scratches don't bother you then perhaps this isn't an issue. I'm somewhere in between, so this bugged me but it wouldn't make me want to spend $900 more. While on this topic, I have to rant a bit as I think the Staccato finish is excellent. However, it seems nearly every Staccato fanboy online fails to be satisfied with their guns and immediately go and cerakote them some tacky color or design, change the grip to something inferior to what came stock and put in a trigger that later has them questioning the guns reliability. I don't get it - why spend $2k+ and then downgrade your gun to a Prodigy? If you are one of those people who must change the grip, color and trigger then you DEFINITELY should skip the Staccato and get the Prodigy. Your final product will be every bit as good and it will cost you a lot less. Conclusion Ok, if you are still with me then you either like magazine reviews or you skipped everything to come here. The short answer for the title was that Brian Enos Slide Glide ($8 grease) fixed the problem and the gun ran perfectly after that - it just took a little while to figure that out. A better spring or better prep from the factory would have prevented the need for the grease. My 2 cents is that the quality control issues are very disappointing, but the problem seems solvable. I also have no doubt that Springfield Armory's warranty department would make things right, as I've had an experience with SA warranty service that was superior to my experience with Staccato. They also didn't send my gun back and blame me before making things right - as Staccato had done, before acknowledging the problem and fixing my gun. While I think even the Prodigy could be cheaper for what you get, it's good value compared to the overpriced Staccato P. That said, if I was a LEO with the city paying for it then I'd definitely take the P over the Prodigy for my carry weapon as the P is the superior pistol. However, consumers are paying government prices for Staccatos so that's kinda BS. While the trigger isn't the best, its usable and the fantastic grip, sights and barrel make up for it enough to get brilliant accuracy out of this gun. Sure, only Glock lovers could call it pretty, but like a Glock it's a functional tool that does its job well - after some initial hiccups. Oh and yes, my opinion is that Colion Noir is full of shit and sure appears to be bought and paid for by Staccato, Ruger, Springfield, Walther and probably many others. If I was him, I'd be singing their praises as he does. P.S. Staccato fanboys - don't hate me for not completely trashing this gun. A little competition and honesty will hopefully lead to a day where Staccato's can be just as awesome, but perhaps at a better price. And in case you missed it, I did say your gun was better - many times. ​ 9/14/22 UPDATE: Here's all of the ammos run successfully through the Prodigy after applying slide glide to the slide as described in the post: Eley Minor 9 PCC 115gr Eley Minor 9 115gr, 124gr & 147gr Norma Range & Training 115gr & 124gr Federal Champion (Red Box) 115gr Blazer Brass 115gr Sig M17 FMJ 124gr +P (only after greasing slide A LOT - didn't run with light grease) Defender TTS (can't remember the gr) Federal Syntec Action Pistol 150gr Norma Monolithic Holopoint 108gr (shoots left though) Underwood Xtreme Defender 90gr (LOVES this stuff - definitely the most accurate ammo tested) Tulammo Steel Case 115gr Random range finds as shown in picture in post submitted by /u/drakehunter70 to r/2011 [link] [comments]

This might sound strange but I really want some kind of sandpaper like grip on my mouse. I currently am using this tape that is rubbery and prone to slippage from sweat. I want something like skateboard griptape but with a finer grit. Doesnt anyone know of anything like this? submitted by /u/ourvoid to r/MouseReview [link] [comments]

This is my 43X. There are many like it, but this one is mine. Personal Bidness. ​ This is the final version. Not planning any more mods. I know red dots are stylish right now, and I shot open for several years in USPSA, but in 30 years of action pistol matches (mostly USPSA and IDPA), 90% of the several hundred thousand rounds I fired, were using iron sights. Using them moved past reflexive a long time ago, so my carry gun won't be using a dot. I do like them, but if I have to drag iron, I'm going with what I've practiced with. This gun has Trijicon sights with U notch and big orange ball, a Vanek trigger, Shield mags and mag catch, and a PMM JTTC micro comp. Haven't had a feed issue since I bought the mags, about 350 rounds ago. I went with the comp, because the 43x's single major flaw, is the snappy muzzle flip, that really slows down fire. The PMM works pretty well, and I get a lot closer to my normal shooting cadence with it installed, at the cost of an extra inch of barrel. This has had no effect on carrying. It still just as easy to hide (I carry appendix). I used one of Charley Vanek's triggers, because that's what was in my competition glocks, and that's the trigger built into my muscle memory. In my opinion, his triggers are in a class all their own. I tried Apex and Pyramid triggers in friends guns, but Charley's triggers are just sex. The break is about 3 lbs. I'm not recommending that pull weight, unless you're willing to put in the work to get control of it. It takes about 5000 repetitions of an action, to turn it into a reflex. That's skateboard tape. I have a good supply of it, and prefer it to most others, because I can easily shape it to my grip. And it's cheap. When it starts to get full of sweat and schmutz, I remove them, cut another set, and away I go. The 43x can't keep up with my old G35, but it isn't far behind really. It shoots way way better than any bitty little carry gun has any right to. And it's so comfortable to carry, my old pocket pistols are just gathering dust. This thing hides under a T-shirt like a dream. I use an inexpensive CYA holster, and am really pleased with the rig. I've been carrying for a long time, ever since Texas first issued permits. The 43x is easily my favorite carry pistol, and by a margin. submitted by /u/cctappercc to r/Glock43X [link] [comments]

Hello everyone, I had a quick question for you. I, like may others have noticed the tape on pistol grips. I saw a post where an OP asked what it was and I learned it was Hockey/Goon tape. I was curious and wanted to try it out. Well I got a roll and tried it on my Glock 19. Now for my question, what is the purpose? I was expecting it to be MORE grippy but if anything it seems to be less grippy due to me holding “cloth” in a sense. Is it just to make grips thicker? Is it for people with sweaty hands? Or am I just weirdo because I love my sand paper talon grips? TLDR: what is the point of the tape? submitted by /u/Boogerweed2 to r/Firearms [link] [comments]

Infinity Game Series artwork My good friend Danie Dreadful did a phenomenal job with the narration, and she was kind enough to make the FAQ and Inventory section look incredibly cool; You can hear it on YouTube , Podcast, Spotify —————————- Hey everyone! I can’t believe the overwhelming response to my last post. When I started this thread, I didn’t expect anyone to read it – I just thought it would be one of those cool things for if I disappeared. You know, one of those documentaries where the only leads are the victim’s strange blog? But then it’s so strange, most people think it’s a hoax? When that Danie Dreadful chick wanted to narrate it – I thought she was joking, but considering ninety percent of you think it’s fiction… I suppose that makes more sense. It’s okay, I’m not offended – if it helps spread the word – sure, it’s fiction. Besides, it’s pretty cool to hear your own words done up all fancy, and she has a great voice. Anyway, the reason I’m back is because I have a… “sequel” for you. I did it; I went to the Mirror World and want to share new information! Thankfully, we can get right to the point this time; if you haven’t read my first post – check it out or you’ll be completely lost. Since I intended to share this experience – I took a tape recorder, but it wouldn’t even turn on. Yes, I know there’s the whole “no electronics” thing, but there has to be a limit there… well, so I thought, but it’s a theory in progress. The point is – I will endeavor to record this experience in its entirety regardless of that setback. Beforehand, I tried to think of all that could go wrong; never trust yourself to think clearly in a pinch. As a result, I wrapped red duct-tape around my arm rather than the traditional band. It sounds like any color will work, but for a detail so simple – why risk it? I almost took a gun but thought better of it when plagued by images of a warped, pistol-toting reflection. I wasn’t positive that’s what would happen, but again – not worth it. Even so, I was hesitant to go defenseless; in the end I settled for leaving a broken taser next to our circle. Filling a pack with basic survival supplies was common sense but also vital; the full inventory is listed at the end. As for who I played with – I brought along my bestie. We met in kindergarten, and she’s the closest thing I have to a sibling. All my life – I’ve been somewhat of a screw-up, but Jess is the responsible one; she’s been adulting at a pro level since we were sixteen. Obviously, when I approached her about this whole affair, she thought I was joking… or having one of my episodes… but eventually, she came to understand I wouldn’t settle down until it was out of my system. Ever the loyal friend she played along as we gathered supplies, and only when I informed her of our location did she falter. I had to explain it several times, but eventually she acquiesced – eager to get it over with. If you understand the game, the logic is simple; Mom started in her quaint little neighborhood which equaled a demolished slum-hole in Mirward. Side note: The name Mirror World kinda sucks… so I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve taken to calling it Mirward. Following that logic, doesn’t it seem feasible one might find a better entry point by placing their mirrors in a less homely location? That’s why I booked a room at the motel on 6th street. I had unusual difficulties communicating the desire to rent nightly instead of hourly – but these were the preparations worth extra effort. I couldn’t begin to guess how long my trip would take, but interruptions were unacceptable. Eventually, my credit card ended the discussion. I’m fairly certain no one saw us lugging the big mirrors inside, but if they did – they’ve probably seen stranger things around there. The setup was easy after that; with the taser in place, I presented a list of rules to Jess. They were typed bullet points – laminated and everything – answering any questions she was liable to have in simple terms. For any who wish to use it, a revised copy is at the end, or a PDF is available upon request. Ignoring her mockery of my bulky attire, I tried to review the rules aloud once more. After I left, she would be forced to act accordingly, but I wanted her to at least grasp the basics. Bouncing off the mirror three times didn’t help either… but on the fourth try, I was rewarded by the sound of beautifully dying laughter. ——————————————- I fell to my knees from the sheer shock of it; not only was the cold enough to steal your breath, but the whole experience left a dizzying sensation. Several minutes passed before I felt steady enough to stand, but I couldn’t dawdle. Now that I was in the Lobby – the clock was ticking. As imagined, Jess wore a shocked expression that filled me with a warming satisfaction. One last time – I warned her, “Please mind the instructions… she really is coming…” before removing my pack to free the skateboard. Every second mattered, and while I hadn’t used it much since high school – a few weeks of practice did wonders. I soared down the infinite corridor in absolute wonder – waiting for the click of an opening door to reveal the exit. Enough time passed to make me wonder if I missed something, but finally, it happened. Coming to a less than graceful stop, I turned to face my reflection. I feel like I can be real with you guys… it was trippy as fuck. She was me! I know mere words can never accurately convey the emotions instilled by such an encounter, but every base instinct screamed, “This is not ok!” I almost talked to her… all my mental preparations vanished when the moment of truth came, and it almost ruined me before ever leaving the Lobby. When she was sure I wouldn’t speak – Flection chick broke the silence. “Welcome! I’m so glad you made it! From the moment you found your Mother’s journal, I knew it was only a matter of time!” She grinned slightly wider than natural, giving her… my… face an unsettling appearance, but she also spoke like an old friend. It really did make me want to talk – I had a thousand questions. “Oh, come now, we don’t have to worry about all those silly rules! You aren’t here to play the game; you’re here to learn… right?” She was so convincing I wanted to believe her… but I guess that’s the whole point… “Aww, you think I’m lying… well, I can’t blame you for being cautious. Go ahead then – I certainly won’t try to stop you; we can talk after you’ve poked around.” If nothing else, she was polite, but I couldn’t help noticing she skated towards Jess. Oh, and for the record, I take the skateboard as proof that bringing a gun would be unfortunate. Alone again, I took a deep breath before proceeding. The open door held nothing but impenetrable darkness, and I kept a healthy distance while accessing my own on the opposite side. The cold knob turned easily beneath my hand, and light spilled into the dim corridor; as I passed through – both doors could be heard shutting behind me. ——————————————- The hotel was almost exactly as hoped. Suddenly I was in a lavish, swanky room, and although no evil old guy awaited my arrival – there was a beautiful woman. She wore a black evening gown, and her hairdo looked expensive as hell, but I couldn’t stop looking at her ridiculous shoes; they looked like Dorothy’s ruby red slippers were turned into stilettos. “Good evening, would you care for a drink?” She asked, leaning against the bar and sipping a cocktail… I know it’s silly to point out, but she had her pinky extended; that says a lot about a person – human or not. Endlessly I’ve debated if speaking to one of those is allowed, but I couldn’t make myself test the theory; this game doesn’t exactly come with extra lives. For the time being it’ll remain a mystery. Regardless, she couldn’t be trusted; while keeping her in sight, I scanned the room for my taser. “Looking for this?” She stepped aside to reveal an obviously new taser placed atop the bar, and I stared angrily. “I’m sure you were proud to think of it, huh? The smart ones are my favorite, but it’ll take a lot more to make waves around here.” She was picking at her nails and sounded bored. My inner smartass was in complete turmoil – itching, begging to be freed, but I bit my tongue until it bled to keep all witty retorts inside. “Did you know the clever ones break the hardest? It’s because they’re so sure of themselves…” She sighed happily, as if recalling fond memories, and I began to squirm under her penetrating gaze. Writing the taser off, I began inching towards the exit – ready to run if she advanced a single step. “Are you trying to be stealthy in your attempt to reach the door? You needn’t be; violence is beneath my station. Besides, I haven’t finished my cocktail yet…” With that, she turned her back to me and resumed drinking. I kept her in sight while creeping closer to the exit, and only when outside with the door firmly shut did I look away. ——————————————- At a glance, the parking lot appeared void of life, but I was doubtful of the assessment. Before – several blocked-up cars littered the streets, but now there was an assortment of lovely options! I hoped to have a weapon before this stage, but there was still no sign of life so I skated to the closest vehicle. It was a mustang, and I was only a few feet away when the shrill barking exclusive to chihuahuas filled my ears. The three-legged beast raced toward me, tongue lolling behind in a stream of foam. I tried jumping onto the car, but the mutt caught my ankle and pulled me backwards. Luckily, it was small, and a single kick propelled it far, but the creature wanted more. Quickly, I shed my outer layer and held it up like a matador; when the dog leapt, I used the coat to pin it down. Heart hammering, I fought desperately to end the incessant barking – terrified of what attention it might draw. Once blissful silence was restored, I realized the larger problem – what to do next. Zombified or not; the idea of killing a dog was too unsettling. A car was right there and plenty more to choose from; I scooped the deformed runt into a ball and tossed the bundle inside, but the coat was a lost cause. Thankfully, all my layers had duct-tape – including my skin – and I assure you, the pain of removal was completely worth the reassurance. The mongrel emerged from its wrapping like an angry hornet and resumed barking. At the sight of its beady, red eyes, I fled to the next vehicle with renewed motivation for locating a weapon. My ankle could wait for attention; it felt sore, but I knew the skin was unbroken. The dogs in Mom’s journal were the main reasons I wore steel-toed combat boots, two layers of socks, and three pairs of pants. At a BMW, I learned that anything with a computer chip wouldn’t crank; the electronics thing got me again. To be fair, I suspected it was too good to be true when the keys were in the ignition, but I digress, it wasn’t a total loss – I found a tire-iron in the trunk and confirmed my ankle was whole if bruised. Next, I chose an older model Saturn, but of course, the keys were nowhere in sight. That meant it was time to look for a clue; a hide-a-key box beneath the bumper would be too easy, but I had to check anyway. Finally, I noticed the parking space was labeled, “Reserved for C. Perkins” and sat across from Pierce & Perkins Law Offices. Gripping my meager weapon tightly, I crossed the street, wary for sounds of pursuit. Opening the door slowly, I hoped to remain silent but cringed with terror when a bell chimed above my head. Seriously though, who the hell uses a physical bell anymore?! The entrance was a reception area with a hallway on the left and desks on the right. Sounds of movement in the back stirred me to action, and I dove from sight just as footsteps entered the room. The sound of a stifled yawn confused me at first, but then I remembered something else from Mom’s journal! The Mirror Master said his “pets” were nocturnal; most of them were still sleeping! Side note: The name Mirror Master also sucks; henceforth I will refer to him as the Boss. I was blind beneath the desk as the footsteps drew closer, and for the first time, I became genuinely frightened. All the smug surety that enveloped me evaporated the instant those shoes stopped next to my hiding place. There was no room to swing, but I positioned the tire-iron for a jab. Any hope I had for not being discovered was dashed when the thing sniffed the air in deep, grunting breaths – like it smelled me. Willing myself not to scream when the inevitable head appeared, I waited… but decaying, spindly fingers came first; they were covered in dirt with jagged nails and curled around the desktop’s edge. I almost panicked and struck the hand, but controlled myself a moment longer. A slight whimper escaped my lips when greasy strands of black hair dangled into view, and tiny bugs could be seen crawling through it – nesting. The thing’s breaths were growing heavier, as if excited to find me, and I thought my heart would fail. When the face was finally before me, I didn’t aim my strike; the fact the tire-iron went through its eye socket was a one-in-a-million lucky hit that would never happen again – but it saved my life. I was frozen in place by shocked awe as the corpse slumped forward and fell heavily to the ground. Fluids leaked from more than its head as I tried to crawl around it, but the stench seeped into my clothing and was there to stay. Standing up, my knees felt weak but I had to keep moving; too much time was wasted, and I still needed keys. Down the hallway were three doors. One was a bathroom, and the other two were labeled with nameplates. I didn’t dare open Pierce’s office, but Mr. Perkins had a set of keys in his desk drawer. Still fearing his partner, I left quietly without further delay. Outside, I was dismayed to see the sun had definitely made progress crossing the sky; it was almost at its highest point. Not having a way to track time was the hardest part; I highly recommend learning to use a sundial before making the journey; I’m learning on YouTube. Hearing the Saturn roar to life instilled me with a proud sense of accomplishment, and the fear from minutes before was forgotten. Now, maybe you’ve been wondering, “Where would your boss fight be if you don’t want a wish?” I wondered that myself during the weeks of preparations, and after considering several possibilities – a school seemed the best bet. I didn’t want to repeat Mom’s mistake, so instead of making the long drive to the university – I decided to try the much closer community college. Of course, if I guessed wrong, I wasn’t going to risk a second location; I fully intended to be home long before it got dark. ——————————————- The road conditions were decent for the first few miles if I drove in the center, but then potholes grew as the pavement shrank. I knew what was coming next, but couldn’t let myself panic. Three miles away from the college, I was met with a roadblock; the barricade had a “Road Closed” sign in the center, and a “Detour” sign pointing left. Now, keeping in mind the directions are reversed in Mirward – the only thing to the left was the river, but I didn’t see any problem with the road ahead; besides, the roads were shit everywhere, but this was the first time any notice was given. Suspicious, right?… Getting past the barricade required driving onto the sidewalk which put me extremely close to a cluster of antique shops. I was scraping by with barely an inch to spare, when glass suddenly exploded next to my face. I reflexively punched the gas and the car surged forward. At the sight of more creepy fingers clasping the window frame, I slammed onto the breaks, and cried in relief when a severed hand fell limply onto the pavement. Behind me, two zombies were approaching fast – one clearly the hand’s owner. I dove back into the car, eyes locked forward, and steered around the worsening road conditions while trying not to panic at the loss of my window. Aside from the obvious cuts to my arm, I felt a few more on my face and neck. At the next intersection, I parked in the center and carefully removed the shards from my skin – you never know when another chance will arise. Luckily nothing warranted wasting time with the first-aid kit. The moment I feared came one block away from the college. The road was destroyed, leaving only one narrow path in the center, and I could already see things moving in the ditch to the right. The sun was officially at its highest point, and the image of an hourglasses was brandished into my mind. I was torn between speeding across – which… you seem like a smart group, so I’m sure I don’t need to explain the risks there – or continuing my slow and steady pace. Before you condemn my actions, let me remind you my driver’s side window was now shattered, and my only weapon was a tire-iron that I was already pushing my luck with. Do you see why I might feel the extra push toward a final sprint? Just one more left turn and I would meet the Boss! Well, I don’t mind telling you; it was a fucking disaster. Always, always choose slow and steady; but what’s done is done. While lining up for a straight shot, I envisioned several zombie creatures emerging too late to matter. I didn’t anticipate their movements to be burrowing, but had I gone a little slower, I might have noticed the cracks spreading through the road before it crumbled beneath me. The airbag broke my nose, and the car was totaled, but no bones were broken and I missed the long drop by a few feet. At the sound of an approaching horde, I clambered out of the window and up the opposite embankment. A car door was ripped open just as I made it to the top, but I dared not look back. Tears blurred my vision as I sprinted between a vape-shop and liquor store, but on the other side lay sweet victory. Wiping my face, I scanned the area patiently before emerging from my dark corner, but the low growl came from behind me. It wasn’t the sound of a chihuahua this time – it was the sound of a large, undoubtedly zombified dog. Never try to outrun animals; they’ll always win. Instead, I leapt atop a dumpster and screamed when it shook with the animal’s collision. This time there was room to swing; I really didn’t want to, but I focused on its yellow, third eye, snake-like tongue, and foaming mouth as I did what was necessary. Black blood sprayed with every strike, and I cried apologies with each impact. Killing dead people was one thing, but I hoped to avoid the animals; a cat may very well be the death of me in the next game. My nose was swollen; I could see it from the corner of my eyes and the visual obstruction bothered me more than pain or mouth breathing. Mom escaped with a few scratches, and here I was – not even at the halfway point and barely standing. I entered the college without further confrontation, but the sun was moving at an uncomfortably rapid pace. ——————————————- Once inside, I was able to use the skateboard and help myself to a protein bar. I wasn’t completely sure where the Boss would be, but if I didn’t find him after a single pass-through – I would be forced to leave anyway; there wasn’t time for a second location… there wasn’t even time to get home if I didn’t find a vehicle close by… That’s when my reflection decided to show her face; she waited for me at the bottom of a stairwell, and I felt foolish for not expecting her. “You look like shit! I mean… I know this place can be rough, but I honestly expected better from you!” I glared angrily as she looked me over, but she was blocking the steps, and I didn’t want to get too close. “You made decent time, but at what cost? Do you understand you’ve ruined our nose? No! Of course you don’t, you never care how we look!” I’m not sure if that display was part of her act, but of all I experienced in Mirward, Flection Bitch was unquestionably the most terrifying. I don’t pretend to understand the Boss; maybe he’s a demon, or wizard, or something else entirely – but there’s nothing more dangerous than an enemy who knows you. “You’re more intelligent than most of the livestock – fine, bravo; but you’re missing the bigger picture – I am too! We’re the same! We should be working together!” I raised an eyebrow at that and scolded myself for letting her see my curiosity. If she thought I would agree to a timeshare she was delusional, but it’s more likely she was simply stalling – a point I communicated via glancing out of a nearby window. She understood the gesture and replied accordingly. “Ugh, you think I’m stalling now… fine. You’re going upstairs next? Great, I’ll go ahead, just listen while we walk.” I was hesitant to follow her anywhere, but had to go up regardless. As long as I stayed a few yards back, I could diverge paths when needed. “I can’t read your mind; I know it seems like it, but it’s only because we are the same. Everyone in your world has a counterpart here, and they’re all the same people living in different realities. Obviously, your world is far more pleasant – which means we tend to grow bitter on this side. We can see everything you do through mirrors. Every time you look into one, I’m staring back, but what you don’t see is how I’m still there after you look away. It’s the same for all of us.” She knew she had my attention, but I didn’t understand why she removed a flag from the wall; it was one of those shorter kinds that sit in a bracket. I raised my tire-iron defensively as she snapped the pole over her knee, but the makeshift spear wasn’t for me; it was for the zombie exiting a nearby classroom. “I can’t stand interruptions, and we’re almost there so listen close. You’ll never learn everything in this one visit – not without making a wish – and if you die, I die. Your little friend isn’t easy to fool either – meaning I have a proposition… I will help you get home, but in exchange – I want you to do some research before returning.” It’s amazing how hard it is to stay silent once you’re in the middle of a conversation, but I managed. As we climbed another flight of stairs, I almost wished she could read my mind – that’s how badly I wished to communicate my offense. If she knew so much, she should be aware of the limited knowledge available on Mirward. My ignorance wasn’t a result of laziness; for months, I interviewed every source I could find! “I see by your indignant expression that you misunderstand… again. You see the end of the hall? The Boss is inside.” The door she indicated was labeled “Dean”, and before stepping away – she retrieved a folded piece of paper from her pocket. “You didn’t know where to look – put this somewhere safe… it’s a list of books you’ll find helpful. I know you don’t believe me yet, but you will. I won’t bother you again for this trip – call it a show of good faith – but when you leave here, use the faculty parking exit. If you take a left at the bottom of the stairs on the first floor – you’ll go straight to it; a blue car will be waiting, but this will still be the hardest part.” “Shocked” doesn’t begin to describe how I felt at that moment. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I trusted her, but even if she was playing a long con – it still meant she had to help me home this time. Besides, I was in bad shape with a long way to go; if she was willing to let me pass unmolested… well I didn’t really have a choice in the matter. When she was well out of sight, I shoved her note into my pocket before opening the Boss’ door. ——————————————- The room was well lit and the Boss was sitting at a large, oak desk. Since arriving in Mirward, so much had happened that I forgot about his appearance… I couldn’t help but giggle at the sight. “I honestly could not decide if I liked or loathed you, but now… I’m leaning toward loathe. How can someone who thinks so highly of herself be so immature?” Oh, he was disgusted, but I didn’t care; that was the closest to a real-life Spider-Man I would ever get. “You guys keep saying that… do I really come across as that conceited?” I always thought myself humble… but it was such a relief to finally speak! “Absolutely. Now, get on with it – what do you want? Make a wish and get out, I do not relish this form.” He examined his costume, and a careless movement sent web-string flying across the office; I felt like I could die happy. “Oh, I thought you knew… I don’t want anything… I just came to… umm, you know… check this place out.” I couldn’t help but stare at my feet. Even through the mask his gaze felt like a thousand eyes. “You are a complete imbecile.” The polite but firm tone vanished, and only malice remained. It frightened me so badly, I almost blurted out a wish for money. Instead, I inched towards the door while apologizing. “You’re absolutely right, I’m very sorry for wasting your valuable time; I’ll let myself out.” Obviously, that didn’t work. “I strongly recommend reconsidering your actions, child! To think I respected your mother! How such a… brat… came from her – I shudder at the thought!” He screamed hard enough for spit to fly through the mask, and I froze in place. “You’ll get no argument from me—” I tried. “Silence! You want to learn, you say? Fine, let’s try a mental exercise, shall we? You’ve read your mother’s words… were you surprised by my friendly demeanor? Perhaps, due to my reputation, you envisioned a vile creature – but then my charming grace led you to believe… differently. Am I close? A simple nod will suffice.” Close enough anyway; I nodded affirmation with my mouth slightly agape. “Excellent! Now, based on how things turned out for your mother – a woman I was amused by – how do you suppose your story might end? You – a disrespectful brat?” “It’s just.., I’m sure I’m wrong – sorry again – but umm… your endgame seems to be getting a soul… and… I thought since you went to all this trouble of the elaborate setup… that maybe you couldn’t just… take one…? Besides, most legends agree that souls are a free-will thing…” “It’s been a long time since someone like you has come along. Do you know what your problem is? It’s youth. You young ones have these tiny, insignificant epiphanies – and you’re so pleased with yourselves – you fail to see anything beyond that simple fact! You are correct – to an extent; I cannot take your soul by force, but I can do quite literally anything else.” The mask suddenly conformed to his face beneath, and the terror of it was indescribable. Mom saw fangs, but she didn’t see the twisted shape of his ears, the long slant to his eyes, or his lack of nose. As he closed the gap between us, the mask began to fade entirely, so that by time our faces were inches apart – the only thing I saw was his pasty, bluish gray skin. His breath was cold and visible as he spoke. “I’m feeling hungry today, so I’ll give you one, last chance. Do you want to make a wish, or do you want to die?” I knew without a shred of doubt he was serious. For all my planning, I overlooked the most obvious detail; my intentions never mattered – the game is still the game. Worst of all, he was right about me; I was so proud, so busy patting myself on the back – I missed everything else. I nodded vigorously without knowing what I would wish for, but the moment I did – Spider-Man stood behind his desk once again. “Rotten brat – take a look outside, it’s getting dark much faster than usual; you’ll be lucky to make it back alive!… Well, then? Spit it out!” He was screaming again. Before I tell you what happened next, I want you all to know I fully believed I would die there. No matter how I looked at it – there was no way out. My game was over, and soon Jess would open that horrible note in the sock drawer. It wasn’t a matter of selflessness, but it was now so dark outside – there was no point in wishing anything for myself. “I want Jess to have a long, happy, normal life and to live as if I never dragged her through this. I want her to follow the instructions I left and move on… peacefully.” “You saw that movie didn’t you?” He asked blandly. “What… huh?” “Don’t play dumb; you thought a selfless wish would negate the deal, didn’t you?” His tone was extremely accusatory, and frankly, offensive. “Holy shit, does it?” “No!” “Then give me the contract – as you pointed out – I’m in a hurry!” I’m a sore loser, I admit it, but I thought he was stalling me with false hope. Turns out he was talking about some really old move called Bedazzled, but that’s not important since it had absolutely no bearing on my situation. A thick scroll appeared in his hands, and with a snap of his fingers it unrolled into a pile at his feet. A quill suddenly manifested in his other hand, and remembering the blood signature, I extended my finger – tensed and waited for the jab. I watched in slow motion as his arm darted forward, and the sharp tip made contact with the soft pad of my finger. Nothing happened. Once again, the Spider-Man facade vanished, but I struggled to stifle a laugh at the confused expression left in its place. The Boss was no longer towering above me, but hunched over my finger in an utter state of dismay. Three more times he jabbed my finger with increasing strength and speed, yet nothing happened. “What are you?! Why does your existence plague me?!” His anger returned with the briefest glance at my smile, and all fears of laughing were gone. “What do you mean, what? I’m obviously human; you—” I was just as confused as he was. It was a shame we didn’t have time to discuss it. “Get out! Out, you damn, heathen!” He yelled while shooing me away. I was moving, I assure you; when he said those words my paralysis was over. ——————————————- There was hardly any light remaining, and I had more questions than when I came, but all that mattered was leaving. I turned left on the first floor, and didn’t have time to wonder if it was a trap. Doors were opening all around me, and nothing good was coming out of them. I was skating down a long hallway and saw the exit at the end, but there were several more classrooms to pass. My legs began to shake and I almost fell over twice, but only seconds remained before I would be surrounded. Finally, as I burst through the last door standing between me and freedom, a hand grabbed the back of my shirt, and pulled. The skateboard rolled away and was never seen again, but it served me well. Before I could catch my breath, the hand lifted me high into the air, and my feet dangled above the ground. Pretending to swing the tire-iron, I pulled my arms from the sleeves – which is why you never button-up – and fell back to the ground; I rolled a comical distance before daring to rise, but the blue car was immediately noticeable. I tried not to let hope carry me away… it was still likely a trap, but it was my only option; there were no others to choose from, and zombies were closing in fast. This time the keys were in the ignition and it cranked… there was also a gas mask in the passenger seat with a note that said “wear me or die” – so I wore it… then I took it off because I couldn’t see Jack shit, but I kept it handy. Remembering the road destruction on the way in, I took a longer route back, but along the way I found no more opposition. It was like the zombies were on strike. Several buildings were in flames, and I thought for sure they were ambushes, but I passed each one without incident. Just when my hopes began to rise, I pulled into the motel to see three giant zombie dogs. I had to run over two before the third fled, but I parked as close as possible to the entrance. Done with the driving portion of the game, I put the strange gift on once more and entered. The whole place was filled with a thick, white smoke; regardless what it was, the mask surely saved me. No one confronted me on the way to my room, but the beautiful lady was waiting with a mask of her own. It’s interesting she would need one… but she was furious at my appearance. Apparently, violence was no longer beneath her station, and she made one hell of a scary sight in that big mask and elegant gown. In her anger, she charged at me, and I jumped over the couch to reach my taser. I turned to meet her and heard the satisfying zaps of contact when it connected with her midsection. She fell to the floor with a heavy thud, and immediately, a chorus of doors erupted outside – more were coming. There was no hesitation in my sprint to the exit; I dove into the Lobby and slammed the door behind me, cutting off all sounds of pursuit. The cold of the infinite corridor hit me like a punch to the gut, but I was so grateful it didn’t matter; struggling with each, painful step, I began my long, wheel-less trudge to the mirror. It felt like an eternity before Jess was finally in view, but once she was, a new burst of energy surged through me. I ran the rest of the way, holding my right arm up to point at the red tape. ——————————————- You won’t be surprised to hear she’s furious with me; more so since hearing my side of things. It would have been wise to edit out a few details, but she can always tell when I’m lying, and I was too eager to share anyway. I would also like to take this time to thank all of you as well; it is an honor to share this with your community! As for the note from my reflection – it was a short message followed by a list of reading materials and where to find them. I do not think it wise to reveal the list – some of the texts are dangerous – but I will copy the rest below; I’m sure you will be equally confused by the contents as myself. ‘What you know is incomplete; do not return until you learn the rest. I could not tell you more before your meeting with the Master, but now, you will understand the truth.’ It makes no sense, but I’m going to find these books and keep you updated. I do not recommend anyone playing the Infinity Game for any reason, but if you do – please be safe! Below are the FAQ’s and inventory list I previously mentioned – or comment with your email if you would like the PDF’s. Until next time, friends. ——————————————- FAQ’s⁉️ Where the hell did you go?! — I told you, Mirward! Now, grow a pair and stand firm! Why are you back so soon? — If tape is on left – it’s not me! Don’t move; she can’t hurt you! — If tape is on right – move; I’m in a hurry! Does it really know the future? — I don’t know, but it’s irrelevant; it’ll say anything. -You suck! Why would you do this to me? — Think of my other prospects. That’s why. How do I contact you? It’s an emergency! — You seriously can’t. If you leave the circle – I’m dead. If you have to leave anyway – destroy the mirrors first. Why did the mirror suddenly shatter? — I’m dead, sorry. Destroy the second mirror immediately; then seek further instructions in my sock drawer. I have to pee… — Without leaving the circle or touching the mirror, retrieve the bucket hidden behind the silver one… sorry again. How long is this going to take? — No clue, but at least several hours. Don’t try to hold it; just use the bucket. Something else is coming, what do I do? Break the mirrors and save yourself, I’m already doomed. ——————————————- Full Inventory 🚫Never take something you cannot afford to lose🚫 -Skateboard (straps easily to outside) -Protein bars / water -Matches -First-aid -Paracord bracelet -Compass -Gorilla glue -Screwdriver -Pocket knife -Gloves -Goggles -Face mask -Eye drops ——————————- Part 3 submitted by /u/PageTurner_Official to u/PageTurner_Official [link] [comments]

submitted by /u/skylinetechreviews80 to r/SigSauer [link] [comments]

Hey all! I bought a cheap Girsan MC28 pistol a few months back! Great little pistol for the price, the only issue I'm having with it is the poly lower! When my hands get a bit clammy it just feels a little slippery. Is there anything other than hockey tape I can throw on there to make it feel better? submitted by /u/DevHend to r/canadaguns [link] [comments]

submitted by /u/thehuntinggearguy to r/canadaguns [link] [comments]

So today I sat my kids down (boy/girl twins) and said, "Yesterday was your last day of walking to elementary school around the corner. Next year for middle school I'm giving you 3 choices. You can walk to school, you can ride bicycles to school, or you can ride skateboards to school. If you pick bikes or boards, I will buy them for you, but you have to practice riding every day this summer to be ready when school starts." Obviously I wouldn't be here if they didn't pick skateboards, so now I gotta live up to my part of the bargain and buy them boards. Of course I know absolutely nothing about skateboards, so I need some help. I spent some time at the CCS site using their Skateboard Builder, and I would like to use that. I just need to know what I should avoid and what I should steer towards. So the specifics. Both kids are tall for their ages .. she's around 5'8" and he's 5'10". The ride to school is around 1/2 mile of standard concrete sidewalks, so it's a bit rough with occasional transitions between "squares" and ramps at streetcorners. Not sure what questions to ask, so please just hit me with stuff I should know. They'll probably be picking the stuff out tonight (the "look" stuff) and I'll order tomorrow. Thanks EDIT Planned Daughter's Board: Girl Centurion Deck 8.25 Indy Stage 11 Standard Trucks 8.00 OJ Hot Juice Wheels (60) Bones Bearings Reds Mob Perforated Griptape Shorty's Sex Pistol Hardware Lucky Risers 1/8 (free, so I'll have if she decides she wants it) Planned Son's Board: Element Linear WWFE Deck 8.13 Indy Stage 11 Standard Trucks 8.00 Spitfire Charred Remains F1 Wheels (52.5) Bones Bearings Reds Spitfire Ripped Grip Tape Shorty's Original Hardware Lucky Risers 1/8 (free, see above) EDIT Changed wheels from Ricta Clouds to OJ Hot Juice on Daughter's board submitted by /u/Contr0lFr34k to r/NewSkaters [link] [comments]

So I wasn't particularly thrilled with the grip on the M&P Shield. I wasn't disappointed, but I wasn't thrilled. I wasn't losing control of the weapon at all, but I tend to get sweaty palms and after a full days of shooting, I just wouldn't have the positive contact I desired. Since this was my carry gun, I was worried I could be in a situation, on a hot day where I had been active and with all this: it could be harder for me to control my weapon. While it's unlikely I ever need to draw and even more unlikely this is the situation in which I'm drawing in, why not be prepared? I found a few places that offered after market grip options, but they seemed expensive and I'm a DIY kinda of guy. I picked up a sheet of black griptape from Amazon for a grand total of $8.00. Also obligatory notice, if you use Amazon, use the SAF Link. I traced the design of the grip from the pistol onto paper, then onto the griptape and cut with an old pair of scissors (griptape, sandpaper, etc will fuck up your scissors over time). I've been quite happy with the end result. Due to the contour of the pistol, it doesn't sit perfectly flat, but the small ridges conform to my hand. The only downside is that I don't wear an undershirt, so at the beginning it would scratch me slightly, especially when turning around while seated. After wearing and using it a bit, the extreme grit seems to have subsided and I no longer notice it. The grip has increased by magnitude and it feels great in my hand. Here is a photo of the completed gun. Apologies for the shadow, I just took a quick picture for you all. If anybody has any questions or comments, I'd love to hear them. submitted by /u/whubbard to r/CCW [link] [comments]