plates. I have linked the rest of your gear to the paladin’s gifts. When you call them, all your gear will appear. Stare closely at the images, Victor. Try to hold all the details in your mind, and then call your equipment to you. You can use any phrase you want, but once you pick a phrase, you’ll use it forever.”
I examined the images closely. The AA-12 had a twenty round drum. The suit had a utility belt that held two extra drums and three ten round box magazines. I looked up at Aidan; he had a reassuring smile. Tim was trying his best to look calm but his Adam’s apple was jiggling with anticipation.
I struggled against my reluctance to call the gear. It was one thing to put spells on myself to save my life; it was another to bind myself to Jehovah’s gifts forever. It was one thing to be forced into servitude, another to willingly accept gifts from my captor and master.
Who was I kidding? I’d gone up against just one troll and almost had my ass handed to me; my chances of surviving twenty plus magical elves without supernatural help was nil. Death was no escape. If I died, I’d be an angel and have even less free will and no dick. I was being given the farmhand’s choice of mucking out horse shit versus pig shit. Even with manure there are better and worse options. Pig crap is a hell of a lot worse horse shit. As a servant of God, I had the ability to make some of my own decisions. It was better than being an angel.
‘Christ victorious’, didn’t work for me. ‘Joey is a little shit’, could be a problem. I shouted, “Azam-shay!” The charm bracelet burst into a blue flame. As I watched, the bracelet melted and dissolved into my skin; there was no pain. The flames exploded over my body and then disappeared. When they were gone, I was holding the AA-12. I was looking through a visor that was so clean it was almost invisible. The clothes I had been wearing had been replaced by the black leather armor.
Aidan waved at me to follow him. We all walked out to the hall and down to the large room below Broadway. He gestured to the far wall about forty feet away. “Victor, we have targets so you can test your shotgun.”
The buttstock of the shotgun had been modified to accommodate my helmet. I took aim through the ghost ring sight and pulled the trigger. I fired a single round. There was barely any recoil. I held the trigger down and the AA-12 went fully automatic. Within seconds the entire magazine of twenty rounds was gone. I changed and emptied another magazine. Every round I’d fired had been completely silent. There hadn’t been any noise and hardly any muzzle rise.
“Aidan, what happened to the sonic boom?”
He beamed like a doting parent showing off a newborn. He was proud of what he had accomplished. “The speed of sound at sea level is three hundred forty meters per second. I found stock factory shotgun rounds with a muzzle velocity of three hundred thirty. There is not enough sonic energy in a shotgun blast to melt lead. The heat generated was only enough to make the lead warm to the touch. There is an upside because this allows us to use copper jacketed lead slugs with retractable stabilizing fins. With these finned, saboted slugs, your shotgun has one minute of angle accuracy at one hundred yards; that is, it will shoot one inch groups at that distance. Tim and I had to custom fabricate these slugs for you. We were able to make seventy-five rounds. Most Redcaps don’t wear armor, but if you meet one with a breastplate, a copper jacked slug should go through it. Military Police Systems makes a frangible, fin stabilized, armor piercing round that explodes with a nine foot blast radius.” He stopped and gave a sigh of regret. “Unfortunately, we didn’t have time to make high explosive rounds.
“Here now, why don’t you test fire a few slugs? Behind the rear ghost ring, there is a flip up adjustable peep sight you can use when targeting anything from fifty to three hundred yards.
I examined the images closely. The AA-12 had a twenty round drum. The suit had a utility belt that held two extra drums and three ten round box magazines. I looked up at Aidan; he had a reassuring smile. Tim was trying his best to look calm but his Adam’s apple was jiggling with anticipation.
I struggled against my reluctance to call the gear. It was one thing to put spells on myself to save my life; it was another to bind myself to Jehovah’s gifts forever. It was one thing to be forced into servitude, another to willingly accept gifts from my captor and master.
Who was I kidding? I’d gone up against just one troll and almost had my ass handed to me; my chances of surviving twenty plus magical elves without supernatural help was nil. Death was no escape. If I died, I’d be an angel and have even less free will and no dick. I was being given the farmhand’s choice of mucking out horse shit versus pig shit. Even with manure there are better and worse options. Pig crap is a hell of a lot worse horse shit. As a servant of God, I had the ability to make some of my own decisions. It was better than being an angel.
‘Christ victorious’, didn’t work for me. ‘Joey is a little shit’, could be a problem. I shouted, “Azam-shay!” The charm bracelet burst into a blue flame. As I watched, the bracelet melted and dissolved into my skin; there was no pain. The flames exploded over my body and then disappeared. When they were gone, I was holding the AA-12. I was looking through a visor that was so clean it was almost invisible. The clothes I had been wearing had been replaced by the black leather armor.
Aidan waved at me to follow him. We all walked out to the hall and down to the large room below Broadway. He gestured to the far wall about forty feet away. “Victor, we have targets so you can test your shotgun.”
The buttstock of the shotgun had been modified to accommodate my helmet. I took aim through the ghost ring sight and pulled the trigger. I fired a single round. There was barely any recoil. I held the trigger down and the AA-12 went fully automatic. Within seconds the entire magazine of twenty rounds was gone. I changed and emptied another magazine. Every round I’d fired had been completely silent. There hadn’t been any noise and hardly any muzzle rise.
“Aidan, what happened to the sonic boom?”
He beamed like a doting parent showing off a newborn. He was proud of what he had accomplished. “The speed of sound at sea level is three hundred forty meters per second. I found stock factory shotgun rounds with a muzzle velocity of three hundred thirty. There is not enough sonic energy in a shotgun blast to melt lead. The heat generated was only enough to make the lead warm to the touch. There is an upside because this allows us to use copper jacketed lead slugs with retractable stabilizing fins. With these finned, saboted slugs, your shotgun has one minute of angle accuracy at one hundred yards; that is, it will shoot one inch groups at that distance. Tim and I had to custom fabricate these slugs for you. We were able to make seventy-five rounds. Most Redcaps don’t wear armor, but if you meet one with a breastplate, a copper jacked slug should go through it. Military Police Systems makes a frangible, fin stabilized, armor piercing round that explodes with a nine foot blast radius.” He stopped and gave a sigh of regret. “Unfortunately, we didn’t have time to make high explosive rounds.
“Here now, why don’t you test fire a few slugs? Behind the rear ghost ring, there is a flip up adjustable peep sight you can use when targeting anything from fifty to three hundred yards.
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