If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
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(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
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Down by the swamp, seven glass bottles had been entirely pulverized into dust before the sound of the first shot had even faded. John and Javier completely froze. They stared at the smoking pistols in their hands, then looked at Caleb, their jaws literally dropping. "Jesus Mary and Joseph," Sean MacGuire breathed from the back of the crowd, pulling his flat cap off his head. "He just emptied a gun in a heartbeat."
"Your turn," Caleb grinned, hitting the thumb release and letting the empty magazine drop to the dirt.
Javier leveled his pistol. The Mexican gunslinger was renowned for his speed with a revolver, but this was entirely different. He pulled the trigger rapidly. The Model 1 barked furiously, the heavy recoil being smoothly absorbed by the sliding mass of the steel slide, keeping the barrel incredibly flat. Javier hit his targets with ruthless, pinpoint precision, emptying the magazine in two seconds flat.
"This is..." Javier whispered, staring at the gun in sheer awe. "I don't ever want to carry a revolver again."
John Marston fired his magazine next, the heavy .45 slugs completely tearing a thick wooden plank to absolute splinters. John let out a wild, disbelieving laugh. "You put this in the hands of our boys, Caleb, and no bounty hunters or any of those detective agencies on this country could ever touch us."
Caleb set his smoking gun down and turned to the crowd, his eyes landing on Mary-Beth. He waved her forward.
"Come here, sweetheart," Caleb encouraged softly. "Your turn."
Mary-Beth stepped up to the firing line, looking slightly nervous but incredibly determined. Caleb stood directly behind her. He didn't just hand her the gun, Caleb personally taught Mary-Beth how to use it.
He gently adjusted her footing, spreading her feet shoulder width apart to create a solid base. He placed the heavy, gold inlaid M1911 into her hands, showing her how to wrap her fingers high on the grip to control the recoil, ensuring her thumb was safely clear of the moving slide.
"Keep your arms extended, but don't lock your elbows," Caleb murmured right by her ear, his large hands gently guiding her posture. "Line up the front iron sight with the rear notch. Put it right on that floating log out there. When you are ready, just squeeze the trigger smoothly. Don't anticipate the bang."
Mary-Beth took a deep breath. She aligned the sights. She squeezed the trigger.
BANG!
The gun roared. The slide snapped violently back and forth, ejecting the brass casing, but the recoil wasn't a brutal, wrist snapping whip, it was a firm, entirely manageable push backwards.
Out in the swamp, a massive geyser of water and shredded bark exploded from the exact center of the floating log.
Mary-Beth let out a loud, delighted gasp. The fear entirely vanished, replaced by an intoxicating surge of sheer, absolute power.
"I hit it! Caleb, I actually hit it!" she laughed, her eyes shining.
"Keep going," Caleb praised her, stepping back. "Empty it."
Mary-Beth didn't hesitate. She pulled the trigger six more times in rapid succession, the heavy handgun barking loudly as she absolutely decimated the log in the muddy water.
When the slide locked back, she lowered the gun, a massive, incredibly proud smile on her face. The gang erupted into cheers and applause for the Madam, with Karen whistling loudly.
With the handguns thoroughly, devastatingly proven, the testing moved down the table.
Bill meanwhile practically shoved his way to the front, his eyes locked hungrily onto the silver inlaid Thorne Auto 5 shotguns.
"Let me at that scattergun, Caleb," Bill grunted, his thick hands eagerly grabbing the heavy weapon.
Caleb handed him a box of red 12 gauge buckshot shells.
"Load five into the bottom tube, Bill. Pull the bolt back, and just aim at that old rowboat rotting in the mud."
Bill loaded the weapon. He hoisted the heavy shotgun to his shoulder, bracing himself for the massive, bone bruising kick of a double barrel. He pulled the trigger.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The long recoil action of the Auto 5 cycled with terrifying, mechanical violence. The entire barrel physically slammed backward into the receiver with every shot, absorbing a massive amount of the punishing recoil while instantly chambering the next shell.
Bill unloaded five rounds of heavy buckshot in less than three seconds. The rotting rowboat out in the swamp didn't just splinter, it practically disintegrated into a cloud of sawdust and churning swamp water.
Bill slowly lowered the smoking shotgun, his eyes wide, a manic, terrified grin spreading across his bearded face. "Good god almighty... it's a meat grinder. You don't even have to pump it!"
Arthur, unable to resist any longer, picked up an Auto 5 for himself. The big enforcer fired it from the hip, effortlessly destroying a line of wooden crates with brutal, sweeping efficiency. "This is going to change the way we clear buildings, Caleb. Nobody is surviving a hallway with this."
Next, Caleb moved the gang to the Vanguard bolt action rifles.
Charles and Sadie stepped up. They were the two best rifle marksmen in the entire camp, completely unmatched in long range precision.
Caleb handed them the gold scrolled rifles, demonstrating how to quickly load the 5 round stripper clips directly into the open breech. "The scopes are zeroed for two hundred yards. Try to hit the dead branches on that cypress tree all the way across the water."
Sadie threw the rifle to her shoulder, peering through the enclosed, nitrogen purged optical tube. She gasped softly. "It's so clear... the crosshairs are perfect."
She worked the Mauser style bolt, the heavy steel extractor claw gripping the cartridge flawlessly. She fired. The high velocity spitzer bullet cracked like a whip, snapping a branch clean off a tree that was practically invisible to the naked eye.
Charles fired a split second later, hitting an incredibly small target with absolute, surgical precision. The polygonal rifling sent the bullets flying flatter, faster, and harder than anything they had ever fired.
Caleb pulled Mary-Beth back to the line, personally teaching her the mechanics of the bolt action. He showed her how to lift the bolt handle, pull it back to eject the spent casing, and push it forward to chamber a new round.
The action was as smooth as sliding on glass. With Caleb supporting the heavy barrel, she peered through the scope, squeezed the trigger, and completely obliterated a glass bottle over a hundred yards away.
Lenny was carefully inspecting the spent brass casings hitting the ground, his brilliant mind racing. "The pressure these guns are operating under... the metallurgy required to keep the barrels from blowing apart... Caleb, you haven't just built guns. You've advanced these guns by maybe many years."
"I told you, Lenny. We are selling the future," Caleb replied, a dark, incredibly powerful smirk on his face.
And finally, as the morning sun climbed higher into the sky, Caleb moved to the absolute centerpiece of the table. The weapon that had terrified even the hardened Italian mobsters.
The Sweeper submachine gun.
The entire courtyard fell completely, deathly silent. Everyone, from the boisterous Sean to the usually terrified Kieran, pressed forward, eager to see what the bizarre, drum fed weapon could actually do.
Caleb picked up the heavy, polished blued steel weapon. He grabbed one of the massive, fifty round circular drums, sliding it into the bottom of the receiver until it locked with a heavy, metallic clunk. He pulled the charging handle back, locking the heavy open bolt to the rear.
"Vincenzo. Silvio," Caleb called out, looking at his two mafia lieutenants. "Watch the water."
Caleb stepped up to the stone wall. He didn't aim at a specific target. He simply pointed the heavy barrel out over a wide, open stretch of the muddy swamp water. He gripped the wooden foregrip tightly, leaned his weight forward to counter the muzzle climb, and held the trigger down.
The sound that erupted from the Sweeper wasn't a series of bangs. It was a continuous, deafening, horrifying roar.
BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT!
A solid, uninterrupted stream of heavy .45 caliber lead poured out of the barrel at an unbelievable cyclic rate of seven hundred rounds per minute. A massive, continuous fountain of empty brass casings violently sprayed out of the ejection port, raining down onto the stone pavers like a chaotic hailstorm.
Out in the swamp, the water simply exploded. The sheer volume of fire created a churning, boiling wall of mud, water, and shredded vegetation that marched violently across the bayou. It was an apocalyptic display of concentrated destruction.
In less than five seconds, the massive fifty round drum was completely empty. The bolt slammed shut with a heavy clack.
Caleb lowered the smoking weapon.
The silence that followed was absolute. No one cheered. No one laughed. The gang simply stared at the boiling, ruined stretch of swamp water, their minds completely failing to comprehend the magnitude of the violence they had just witnessed.
Uncle, who had been sitting on a nearby crate claiming his lumbago prevented him from shooting, actually took the cigar out of his mouth, his eyes wide with sheer terror. "Mother of God... you could mow down an entire cavalry charge with that thing."
Sean on the other hand swallowed hard, the usual arrogant smirk completely wiped from his face. "It's a handheld Gatling gun... but it's the size of a bloody carbine."
Vincenzo and Silvio exchanged a look of pure, unadulterated awe. If Caleb had possessed even ten of these weapons during the assault on Angelo Bronte's mansion, the entire battle would have been over in less than sixty seconds. The raw, overwhelming superiority it provided was terrifying.
Caleb turned to Mary-Beth, who was staring at the smoking barrel with wide eyes.
"You want to try it?" Caleb asked, a playful, challenging glint in his eye.
Mary-Beth hesitated, intimidated by the sheer roar of the weapon, but her curiosity won out. Caleb loaded a fresh fifty round drum and helped her hold the heavy steel frame.
"Don't hold the trigger down," Caleb instructed, wrapping his large hands securely over hers to help control the aggressive recoil. "Just squeeze it for a fraction of a second and let go. A three round burst."
Mary-Beth braced herself and tapped the trigger.
BRR-RT!
Three heavy bullets slammed into the mud instantly. Mary-Beth gasped, completely shocked by how fast it fired, but a bright, exhilarated smile quickly spread across her face.
Caleb guided her through several more short, controlled bursts, teaching her how to ride the recoil and keep the barrel flat, turning the elegant novelist into a deadly, highly capable operator of the most advanced military hardware on the planet.
As the morning progressed, every single member of the gang took their turn firing the revolutionary weapons. The quiet, wealthy Garden District echoed continuously with the thunder of high velocity rifles, rapid fire shotguns, and the terrifying, ripping roar of the submachine guns. Thousands of empty brass casings piled up on the stone pavers like a glittering carpet of gold.
By the time the final magazines were emptied and the smell of sulfur and smokeless powder hung thick and heavy over the back courtyard, the reality of their situation had firmly settled into the minds of everyone present.
Arthur wiped the sweat from his brow, resting the incredibly advanced Vanguard rifle against his shoulder. He looked at Caleb, his green eyes burning with a fierce, unbreakable confidence that he hadn't felt in twenty years.
"You didn't just build a factory, Caleb," Arthur said, his voice carrying over the ringing silence of the courtyard. "You built these new type of guns that will protect you empire and with it nobody can ever, ever tear down."
Caleb stood amidst the smoking guns and his fiercely loyal, heavily armed family, looking out over the ruined swamp.
The federal bounties were on the progress of being erased, the money was flowing, and they now possessed a lethal technological advantage that made them entirely untouchable. "No, Arthur," Caleb smiled, a dark, incredibly powerful expression radiating absolute supremacy. "We didn't just build an empire. We built the future. And God help any man who tries to stand in our way."
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Name: Caleb Thorne
Age: 23
Body Attributes:
- Strength: 8/10
- Agility: 8/10
- Perception: 9/10
- Stamina: 8/10
- Charm: 8/10
- Luck: 9/10
Skills:
- Handgun (Lvl MAX)
- Rifle (Lvl MAX)
- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl MAX)
- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)
- Knife (Lvl MAX)
- Blunt Weapon (Lvl MAX)
- Sneaking (Lvl MAX)
- Horse Mastery (Lvl MAX)
- Poker (Lvl MAX)
- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl MAX)
- Eagle Eye (Lvl MAX)
- Dead Eye (Lvl MAX)
- Bow (Lvl MAX)
- Pain Nullifier (Lvl MAX)
- Physical Regeneration (Lvl MAX)
- Crafting (Lvl MAX)
- Persuasion (Lvl MAX)
- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)
- Cooking (Lvl MAX)
- Teaching (Lvl MAX)
- Trilingual Language Proficiency - G, I, & C (Lvl MAX)
- Inventory System (Permanent - 100x100x100)
- Acting (Lvl MAX)
- Alcohol Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Treasure Hunter (Lvl MAX)
- Drugs Resistance (Lvl MAX)
- Business (Lvl MAX)
- Leadership (Lvl MAX)
Money: 2,772 dollars and 60 cents
Inventory: 284,392 dollars and 61 cents, 11 gold nuggets, 74 gold bars, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, 2 Colm's Schofields, 1 land deed (Parcel), 1 Mauser, 1 Semi Auto Pistol, 1 Lancaster Repeater, 1 Old Wood Jewelry Box, 1 F.F Mausoleum small brass key, 1 Ruby, 1 Braithwaites Land Deed, 1 Broken Pirate Sword, 1 Milton's Safety Deposit Key, Proof Of Marlin-Thorne Firearms Co., 10 Dynamites, 1 LeMat, 1 M1899, 1 Carcano, 1 Ownership deed of Doyle's Tavern, 3 Diamonds, & Important Documents & Deeds Of Cornwall
Bank: -