gun - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
The gun was perfect for despatching Krill for good, small, discreet, deadly. At first the metal was cold in Sal's hand, icy perhaps, yet after just one block with his hand wrapped around it the metal was ambient, feeling more like a part of himself than a tool of death.
He had customized it to suit his needs. The stock was laminated wood with water resistant adhesive, making it stronger and less likely to warp. The trigger mechanism had been taken apart an polished for a smoother release. Even the bullet he was using had been specially prepared. Manufactured by Eley, it was forty grains in weight and readily available on the open market. But he had carefully drilled a small hole in the head. The shock of air as the bullet hit it's target would cause as much damage as the bullet itself. The rifle would relaod itself as fast as he could fire it, but he would only need a single shot.
He focused his attention on the gun that he was holding, a self-loading Ruger point 22 model K10/22PPF. It was a low-velocity weapon, less deadly than some he might have chosen. But the gun had two huge advantages. It was light. And it was very compact. By removing just two screws he had been able to separate the barrel and the trigger mechanism from the stock. The stock itself folded in two. He had been able to carry the whole thing accross London in an ordinary sports bag...He sqaured his eye against the Leupold 14x50mm Side Focus scope, adjusting the crosshairs against the door through which the boy would pass. He loved the feel of the gun in his hands, the snug fit, the perfect balance. He had had it customized to suit his needs...
It was a KAhr P9 double-action semi-automatic, manufactured in America. It was six inches long and - with its stainless steel and polymer construction - it weighed just twenty-five ounces, making it one of the smallest, lightest pistols in the world. The in-line magazine could have held seven bullets.
He handed Alex a gun, a Belgian-made FN semi-automatic pistol. Alex weighed it in his hand, trying to find the balance between himself and his weapon. Ross had explained that this was essential to the technique that he called "instinctive firing."
The gun was a Grach MP-443, black with a short muzzle and a ribbed stock. It was Russian, of course, new army issue. He allowed his finger to curl around the trigger and smiled grimly.
He reached behind him and took out a gun, a German-built 10mm Glock Automatic. He made sure it was loaded and slipped it into the waistband of his trousers, under his shirt.
Found in Alex Rider, Skeleton Key, authored by .
The morning had more than a bite of frost and the air made Sarah's lungs feel chilled just to breath it in. Luke was digging into the freshly fallen leaves, having dragged out his fathers rake out of the garage. How he stumbled with it. Sarah stifled a laugh. That old fork must be heavier than him. He paused for a moment and bent low, examining the ground in front of him like he'd found some marvellous bug. In that suspended moment Sarah's heart stopped beating, the strong early light shining strongly from the steel barrel of the revolver. His face split a grin as he held it like all the cops do on the TV shows, "Finders keepers, mama!"
He aims, and the world shrinks to no more than what he can see out of the rifles sight, there’s nothing but the weight of the weapon in his hands. He inhales as time slows to a crawl and the wind reduces to a whisper in comparison to his own rushing heartbeat in his ears. He squeezes the trigger and the gun fires with a dull thud from the silencer, recoil slamming the stock back into his chest. The .338 round tears through the air and lodges in its target. James watches the man drop to his knees and pitch forward. One shot, one kill-job done.
His heartrate peaks, he breaths, remembering his training, let it settle. He doesn’t move, he should move, staying still is a mistake.