Designed by Dmitry Shiryaev in the late 60′s. 7,62mm proprietary flechette rounds, four-barrel cluster, top break double action, ~12m lethal range against a standard diving suit. The predecessor to Vladimir Simonov’s SPP-1 underwater pistol, the B-VI-307 was probably the first effective underwater handgun to be developed. Its successor did away with the sorta-rocket cartridges and was overall much simpler and cheaper to produce.
It was what you had come to know as a typical night. The city was wet from the earlier rains, causing a moonlit highlight on the bricks and asphalt. It also kicked up an unpleasant stench, but one you had grown familiar with in all of your years of living here.
“Alright, kiddies. Time to work,” a burly man clapped his gloved hands together before throwing open the back door of the truck.
Barrels and barrels full of bootleg lined the inside. Thousands of dollars of product for the family to profit from, brought over on a meat truck they used frequently to disguise their hauls. But from where? The shipping yard, you guessed. Now if you could just figure out when it docked…
“What are you thinking about?” the boy next to you asked.
You hadn’t realized he’d been watching you. He scratched his hair underneath his cap before straightening it with a smile. Yoosung, or ‘Lucky’ as he was known, was always smiling. He seemed to practically skip instead of walk. Not the typical mafioso wannabe. But neither were you. In any case, he’s the closest thing you had to a friend right now. And you needed that.
“That it’s cold as shit and I wanna get this over with,” you huffed.
Lucky and some of the other boys popped up into the truck. They all shifted the barrels in their spots as if to weigh the contents before proceeding to move them. They had to roll a few of them down before you could start to dolly the liquor inside the small storage warehouse.
“Attaboy,” the driver said gruffly and condescendingly. His wide hand pat one of them on the back as they wheeled a barrel away.
“Turn the lights off, you nitwit,” the beautiful brunette, your capo-Jaehee, seethed as her heels clicked around the side of the truck and stopped in front of the driver.
“S-Sorry, right,” he nodded before scrambling to the front to turn the headlights dim.
“This is the last job for tonight, so make it snappy,” she played with her gloved hands, seemingly annoyed, “well go on!” she urged you.
You picked up the pace and wheeled the barrel Yoosung placed on the dolly for you. A single one wasn’t too heavy, but do 5 or 6 in a row and boy were you feeling it. Towards the end of the truck you felt beads of sweat on the back of your neck.
“What’s her deal tonight?” one of the boys whispered as you all worked to shift the hooch inside the storage room.
You glanced back to see Jaehee and the driver. It looked like she was scolding him, all while gesturing to the truck.
“Probably in a rush to get to the club to see ‘Pretty Boy’ sing his little heart out so she can drop her panties,” one of the guys joked and pretended to sing into a mic dramatically.
“Shut the fuck up, idiot,” another one smacked him in the back of the head, “if I have to listen to any more of your stupid jokes tonight I’m gunna stuff ya in one of these damn barrels.”
“Alright, alright, lay off,” he rubbed his head with a sour face, “I was only tryin'a lighten the mood.”
A flash of headlights washed over you before being turned off. You all stopped to watch a black car pull up by the truck. You and Yoosung both paused, gripping your dollies and watching as a man in a brown trench coat stepped out and straightened his collar. Bits of red hair peeked from his hat and a serious expression plagued his face.
“Shit, what’s he doing here?” one of the guys whistled menacingly.
Though you had only seen him a handful of times, you knew who it was. Saeyoung, the Underboss. Or as people liked to call him-‘The Mad Hatter.’ You believed him responsible for countless hits over the years. And now you all stood to watch, though some of the outfit stayed back in the warehouse, exchanging quiet glances and pretending to work.
“It’s a wonderful night, isn’t it?” Saeyoung and his two body guards met Jaehee and the driver.
“It’s a bit too cold if you ask me,” Jaehee replied.
“Ah, but it’s a clear night,” he looked up to the sky, “star, after star, after star. An endless void. If you look long and hard enough you can get lost in it. How many do you think there are?”
He returned his gaze to the two of them, his solemn face unchanging. Neither of them spoke.
“I asked you a question,” he turned to the large man, “how many do you think there are?”
“Stars? I-uh…” you could almost see the man begin to sweat.
“You can count, can’t you?”
“Well ya, but I-I don’t know-“
“Of course you don’t. There are too many up there. Maybe a simpler question, then? Since you can count and all..how many barrels am I missing from this truck?” he gestured to the meat truck.
“Missing?” his big belly heaved with his now labored breathing.
Saeyoung’s fist swung into the mans gut and sent him coughing to his knees.
“Now, now. You’re good with numbers, remember? I’ll give you a second to count them in your head before telling me. And you’d better tell me. Or things are only going to get worse for you.”
The man started to sob at Saeyoung’s feet, “I don’t know nothin’ about missing barrels I swear on my kids life,” he pleaded.
“I don’t like liars,” Saeyoung grabbed the mans hand and pulled the glove off, “shall we count together? Maybe that will help.”
He singled out the mans pointer finger, while the driver looked up to Saeyoung’s face in terror. His wet eyes were pleading.
“One…” Saeyoung bent the finger back in a swift motion. The snap of bone was like a dry twig breaking under your boot.
The cry in pain filled the empty street and the body guards stuffed the man’s mouth with a cloth before holding him in place on his knees. He struggled for a moment but quickly admitted defeat.
“Two,” another snap of his middle finger, “three…”
Even with the cloth to muffle, you could hear the pain bellowing from his chest. Tears streamed down his stubble-heavy face and his brow pinched together in agony. It took everything in you not to stop him. The cold metal of the gun on your thigh had never been more apparent.
“Four,” the pinky was the last one and it broke easily, “four barrels. Now do you remember?”
He let the mans hand fall before stepping back. The cloth was pulled from his mouth before shoving him forward into the damp asphalt. Shaking and nodding at Saeyoung’s feet, his right hand was a mangled mess now.
“Good, I thought so. Now you won’t forget that number,” he tossed the glove at the mans face, “get out of my sight.”
With his good hand he palmed the glove and clambered to his feet all while stifling sobs. Wobbling slightly and almost running into Jaehee in the process he started to walk fast in the opposite direction down the silent street.
“Hm…I changed my mind,” Saeyoung reached into his coat and pulled a pistol to aim at the man.
The truck blocked your view but the sound of the shot and the thud that followed were telling enough. Your legs were suddenly jello and a pair of hands held you up.
“Keep it together,” Yoosung whispered as he grabbed you. You were just noticing his eyes had glassed over slightly and there was an indent where he must have bitten his lip.
All you could think about were flashes of Saeyoung’s face as he held a gun to your head. ‘Lemme show you what we do to rats and pigs,’ he’d say, his sadistic grin being the last thing you see before he squeezed on it.
“Someone clean that up,” Saeyoung gestured to the body before turning to one of the men, “you, get this truck out of here.”
He handed a wad of cash to Jaehee, explaining that she was to deliver it to the man’s wife. It was to help her get by, at least for a little while, without a husband.
He took long striding steps back to the car. His gloved hand opened the door and he turned to you with a smile before getting in.
“Hey, Lucky! Both’a you, be in the wind before the bull arrives, huh?” he waved and got into the back seat.
The bit of food in your stomach was trying to make it’s way up but you took some sharp breaths to calm your nerves as the car drove away. No wonder there wasn’t a soul at the station willing to try and infiltrate this syndicate. They all either laughed at you or turned a cold shoulder when you brought it up. Not even the feds were willing to acknowledge this level of organized crime was going on. Businesses and citizens alike accepted that this was just the way things were. And here you were, a cop gone under cover. A rat. A bull. The regret was like a thick syrup that clung to you. This was the first time you realized you were probably going to die. But there was no turning back now.
“Come on, there’s still a bit of work to do…” Yoosung pat you on the back with a solemn face. It was the first time you’d seen him not smiling.
Elaborately Engraved and Inlaid Four Barrel Swivel Breech Percussion Combination Gun by M. J. Whitmore of Potsdam, New York
from Rock Island Auctions
“M. J. Whitmore of Potsdam, New York, worked at the Wagon & Gun Shop and is believed to have been the man who trained Lewis L. Hepburn of Remington fame. He was one of the men listed on a breech loading patent in 1860 and also received a patent for a "clock, calendar.” Many of Whitmore’s surviving firearms utilize the swivel breech mechanism and have long metal actions like this example. Most, however, are over/under combination guns, but this unusual mid-19th century arm has four barrels. Three are .40 caliber and rifled and one is .410 caliber smoothbore. The paired rifle barrels share a blade front sight and adjustable notch rear sight, and the other rifled barrel and smoothbore barrel have individual sets of sights. All four barrels and the left side of the action at the wrist are stamped with “M. J. WHITMORE/POTSDAM N.Y.” The barrels have floral engraving patterns and the action has additional floral engraving as well as rural scenes and patriotic motifs. There is clever trap compartment in between the barrels that contains a wooden ramrod. The butt has numerous engraved German silver inlays, including a reposed stag, a cabin scene on the patch box door, a sun, and stars. The engraving and stock inlays are similar to known Whitmore rifles manufactured in Massachusetts by Nathaniel and Nathaniel Gilbert Whitmore and pictured in the included copy o the article “My Magnificent Whitmore” by David Wood, Jr. suggesting a family connection. N. G. Whitmore was the master armorer at Springfield Armory and also manufactured a very fine rifle for General Grant that was displayed at the Smithsonian.“
Manufactured in Germany by the Rempt brothers c.WW1 to illuminate battlefields for extended periods of time without the need to reload -
serial number 124, only 22 of these guns are known to exist today, the rest probably being buried in various trenches in France.
1″/27mm caliber flares, double action, four barrels. The hole in the back of the frame might be there to accommodate some kind of shoulder stock. Flares were the most efficient way to light large swathes of the battlefield by night, and were very useful to prevent enemy trench sorties to disable barbed wire or even sentries and machine gun positions.
Centrefire four-barrelled Large Frame Holster Model Thorn patent pistol by Charles Lancaster, circa 1881
A.A.Thorn Patent oval bore single trigger four barrel pistol. The single-trigger action operates a rotating firing-pin. A side lever operates a dolls head barrel lock on the top of the frame (known as a 1st type locking latch). Plain finish with much original bluing stamped with Birmingham proof marks. The square shaped chequered walnut butt has provision for a rod butt extension and a lanyard-loop. The hinged barrels are bored with Charles Lancaster’s patent oval bores and have open-sights and a German silver foresight. The barrel cluster is fitted with a self-acting extractor star. The assembly number, 22, is stamped on the bottom of the frame.
In 1878, the firm of Charles Lancaster Gunmakers, previously run by C.W. Lancaster who died in that year, was acquired by Henry A.A. Thorn from his widow. In 1881 Thorn patented an action for two and four barrel guns, he would subsequently use this patent in the manufacture of both shotgun/rifles and pistols.
The pistols were designed to take a variety of calibres, but in the main they would be for the four barrel pistol .455 and .476 government cartridges and for the two barrel pistol the .577 short Snider or Boxer, they were also fitted with Lancaster’s oval bore rifling.
In all about 712 four barrel pistols and about 234 two barrel versions were produced between 1882 and 1897.
This is one of the earliest, if not the earliest, known examples of Lancaster’s four barreled pistols.
New Dean Ambrose reader insert request from @kristiej! Basically this is back in the Shield days and reader is a Hound of Justice :) Dean has it bad for reader…like love bad… I’ll let you draw your own conclusions. I’ll be throwing this back to when our boys had the tag and us titles but we gotta start this right so I got two words for ya…
“SIERRA. HOTEL. INDIA. ECHO. LIMA. DELTA. THE SHIELD.” The lights dimmed and a spotlight shone on the crowd as your group emerged, donned in your black gear to the displeasure of some fans. You loved the hate though.
If you want to tick off a rhinoceros, try this: Drug the unsuspecting animal. Cram it into a truck, subject it to a 12-hour drive, and release it 400 miles away. Just don’t be surprised when the 5,000-pound creature bites your elephant.
As absurd as this sounds, it is exactly what happened Tuesday when conservationists in Nepal released a rare one-horned rhino in Shuklaphanta National Park. The rhino stormed out of the truck, rammed it, and then barreled toward four elephants, surely startling the men riding them. AFP photographer Prakash Mathema watched the scene unfold from the relative safety of a wobbly wooden blind just a few feet away. “I think he was scared,” Mathema says of the rhino.
Pairing : Dean x reader Words : 1,236 Author : Mel Tagging: @nerdflash@faegal04@damalseer@i-am-not-a-freak@craftersdust@vika-hiddles@mein1928 @panic-everywhereabouteverything @thisistheonly-nameleft
A/N : Brit said to write Gamer Dean. So I did. (Brit: Perfect timing that I get around to editing it. We were talking about something that’s a touchy subject to me from a few years ago. Anxiety started going up…this is a good distraction. Thanks, Moose.)
Sighing, you dropped into your computer chair. You were exhausted after a long day at work. People called you for help over the stupidest things. But a jobs a job. You had got into computer tech support, because you loved computers. People were quickly changing that. But you had a 3 day weekend, and you were spending it gaming. Fuck the rest of the world.
“What’s going on, bitches?!” you smiled after signing in to Counter Strike and inviting your friends to join you in a lobby
“Thank god you’re on y/n, this guy is nailing us.” Sarah groaned.
You laughed, “What guy? Let me grab something to eat, If we get him in a match, I’ll school his punk ass.”
“Uh… Impala67? Who the shit uses a name like that?” her boyfriend Chris laughed. “He’s running around in public.”
“Fuck if I know. Be back in a sec.” you took off your head set and headed to the kitchen for a snack. You’d order some pizza after a few matches, once you de-stressed a bit.
Helloooooooo my babies~ Well well well, look what the cat dragged in. ME. I am so sorry that I have been kinda not been posting- I was sick and then I had final exams and such and it’s just been hard D: This chapter had been long overdue and it has literally been sitting on my desktop so yeah. WELP HERE IT IS INSTALLMENT 6 OF THE FIC~ If you have not caught up then fear, not my kiddies- here are the previous chapters;
AND AS ALWAYS PLEASE DONT FORGET TO SHOW ME AND MY BLOG SOME LURVE <3 FOLLOW/REBLOG/LIKE LOVEYOUBABESKSCHMANKSBAI :D
He couldn’t believe his eyes. Here he was, Jumin Han, Director of C & R International, standing outside of her house. If someone had told him that he was going to be doing so, six months ago he would have laughed in their face and possibly even sued them for even coming up with that ridiculous idea. Him? Pining for a woman so much that he goes out of his way to meet them? Non-sense.
Yet here he was, he sacrificed the comfort of his dear Elizabeth to that monster, Luciel, in order to find this girl, his ears craved hearing her smile, his eyes begged to see her smile just one more time. He was desperate, becoming greedy, needing to see her, wanting her.
He rang the doorbell of a worn down home. It was so tattered it was practically falling apart. He wondered if Luciel had given him the wrong address, surely MC did not live here, in such harsh conditions?
The door opened and he felt his heart possibly stop beating. Attractive women were always throwing themselves at him but he never felt any sort of pull towards them. Here she was, standing there her hair tied and in casual clothing, looking more appealing to him than any woman had in his entire life. He became that he was staring at her once again, mesmerized by her beauty, he cleared his throat and fiddled with his tie, “You hadn’t shown up to class this week, so as a courtesy I brought you some notes. I believe a thank you is in the works? Or do you commoners simply not use that word?”
He kicked himself, knowing that surely that would annoy her. She went on and on about how she hated him and how he had money, acting entitled would not get him anywhere. He was about to clarify and hope to rephrase his previous statement when two children popped out from behind MC. “OOOH who’s that your boyfriend?” they asked curiously.
Jumin felt all the blood rush to his head, the thought of becoming her significant other made him incredibly happy for some reason. Was this why he felt so desperate and greedy for her attention? Had he begun to fall in love with her? He heard her let out a small laugh affectionately at the two boys and his heart soared with desire, oh how he wished he could be the source of her joy, of her smile.
He felt a tug on his hand, and saw that he was looking into the same beautiful big brown eyes that MC had on her own face, the little boy looked strikingly similar to MC, and he hoped that it was her sibling. The little boy pulled him into her home and she asked him if it was okay. He simply looked at her, feeling an overwhelming urge to kiss her but he restrained himself and his urge and strode into the house. “Being in love is quite vexing,” he thought to himself.
Surprisingly, Jumin found himself, enjoying himself. His home was probably triple the size of this one but he never felt so comfortable before. There was a warm aura surrounding him. He spoke to the children, growing quite fond of them and spoke to MC. He was already quite fond of her as well, but yet again he felt himself hunger for more. He was caught in a trance, thoughts of her filling his mind when the children once again pulled him.
“Hey Mister, do you like like my sister” the young girl whispered in his ear, a devilish smirk appearing on her face.
He looked at the four kids, as he felt a deep blush creep onto his face once again. He slowly nodded, losing the ability to speak. The simple action sent the kids squealing, MC scolded them and sent them on their way. She turned to him and he felt his heart pitter-patter as it often did when he was with her. “Would you like to stay for dinner? It may not be some five-star restaurant food but it doesn’t taste so bad?”
He agreed. He had never had a home cooked meal before it couldn’t hurt to try. He watched as MC began making plates for him and the kids. He couldn’t but imagine how it must be to eat her cooking every day, to be on the receiving end of her love and affection.
“MC, I really appreciate this. I am sorry to impose on you but thank you for the meal.” He saw a pink flush lightly twinge her chubby cheeks before she briskly turned around, he felt the urge to only tease her more but he contained himself. It would be all too selfish to force his emotions onto her, he did not even know how to express himself clearly, how could he possibly expect her to reciprocate them. He needed to earn and become worthy of her affection. He had all the money in the world but for once even money couldn’t solve his problem and that only made him crave for her more.
The four children barreling down the stairs interrupted his thoughts; MC placed a bowl in front of him, filled to the brim with some noodle dish. He looked at it quizzically as the children seated themselves around him. “What’s wrong mister? You don’t like ramen? Our sister makes the best ramen in the whole wide world!” the youngest boy, who he was growing quite fond of, exclaimed with a dimpled smile.
“I apologize, but my chef has never prepared ramen for me before. It will be my first time trying it. You are sure it tastes good? Because if not I will be holding you personally responsible young man” he said as he lightly tapped the young boy’s nose, which left him squealing.
It was funny, even with one of the most renowned chef’s in the world, he had never tasted something so delicious before in his entire life. He felt himself shoveling more food into his mouth, copying the children as they hurriedly slurped their noodles. MC had quite the look on her face, Jumin felt that pressing urge to kiss her once again. She was looking at him was gentle eyes and a soft smile. He felt the need to clutch his chest. “Oh, what that girl does to me!” he thought to himself.
He found himself laughing with the children after enjoying the meal. He always ate his meals alone, in his giant penthouse. Sometimes if he was lucky, Elizabeth would accompany him as well. Even so, he felt something oddly fulfilling eating in this tiny home with MC and her little family. He had never experienced such joy before in his life. He never wanted to leave, he pined to spend more time with the kids and MC, he wanted to eat more meals with them and spend more time with them. He felt a twinge in his heart, sure he had his father, but he was never really able to experience a family and spending quality time with them.
As the children piled out, he watched as MC began cleaning up. He felt extremely guilty, here he is, imposing on her and she has to go through all of this extra work. “MC, please, take this money, as compensation for my encumbrance” he said as he pulled out a wad of bills from his wallet.
“Ah, it seems, I have yet again said the wrong this” he thought to himself as received her cold glare. However, it was short-lived, much to his surprise.
“Jumin, if you would like to repay me, why don’t you come over and help me wash the dishes? I’ll wash, you dry?” she said, as she turned back again.
First, the spontaneous visit, then the ramen and now Jumin Han was going to be doing household work. Something he never attempted before. He was experiencing many “firsts” with MC, he found himself enjoying himself. Expanding his horizon, now if only he could find a way for her to reciprocate his feeling, he wouldn’t ask for anything else after that.
WHOOO. So thanks for readin the fic, you amazing lovely creature you. So while I was bedridden and dying, I actually came up with quite a few AU idea’s. Unfortunately the majority of them are for our deep story characters! and one for possibly Choi Twins but idk yet. So as always thank you so so much for sending me requests and showing me so much support it seriously means SO MUCH <3 UGH I LOVE YOU GUYS AND IF YOU EVER WANNA CHAT OR VENT OR WHATEVER I GOTCHU GUYS, MUAH XOXO.