M
Minx
Guest
*shuffle shuffle...clank*
The sound of jacks arms rummaging through the box. He knew the ammo he was looking for, 5.7×28mm, simple high velocity rounds. Made for accurate firing, for a very accurate handgun. He only had half a clip on him, and one empty cartridge. He found a box, full of these bullets. 500 to be quite frank, he pulled the box out and laid it next to his knees. Then he searched for anymore empty magazines that would fit the pistol. But only one was found.
The box was shut, and Jack sat against it with his backpack open and on his lap, with his pistol in his hands. He pressed the release mechanism on the handle to release the magazine, and pulled out the bullets and the other magazines. He proceeded to fill the cartridges up with bullets, each clip holding twenty rounds standard. He filled each one up, and loaded the magazines into his bag, one in the gun. And the box of bullets...in his bag for safe keeping. He took his pistol, and pulled the hammer back, and aimed it to the ceiling, looking down the iron sights. Nothing fancy, Just standard sights. He then turned the safety on, and held it with his right hand and placed both hands on his lap while his head fell back onto the crate. He slowly closed his eyes and sighed, his hood slid off and his hair laid a mess around his head.
He opened his eyes, and his blue eyes stared into the white ceiling. He didn't feel tired, but he felt bored, and restless...typical day in the zombie apocalypse, right?
The sound of jacks arms rummaging through the box. He knew the ammo he was looking for, 5.7×28mm, simple high velocity rounds. Made for accurate firing, for a very accurate handgun. He only had half a clip on him, and one empty cartridge. He found a box, full of these bullets. 500 to be quite frank, he pulled the box out and laid it next to his knees. Then he searched for anymore empty magazines that would fit the pistol. But only one was found.
The box was shut, and Jack sat against it with his backpack open and on his lap, with his pistol in his hands. He pressed the release mechanism on the handle to release the magazine, and pulled out the bullets and the other magazines. He proceeded to fill the cartridges up with bullets, each clip holding twenty rounds standard. He filled each one up, and loaded the magazines into his bag, one in the gun. And the box of bullets...in his bag for safe keeping. He took his pistol, and pulled the hammer back, and aimed it to the ceiling, looking down the iron sights. Nothing fancy, Just standard sights. He then turned the safety on, and held it with his right hand and placed both hands on his lap while his head fell back onto the crate. He slowly closed his eyes and sighed, his hood slid off and his hair laid a mess around his head.
He opened his eyes, and his blue eyes stared into the white ceiling. He didn't feel tired, but he felt bored, and restless...typical day in the zombie apocalypse, right?
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