Will was angry. It didn't matter at what or for what reason, because anger was just anger, and said anger was going to be channeled out of the end of a .22 Mossberg and into the head of a distant coyote where the anger could rot for all he cared. Breathe in, breathe out, hilariously, the one thing that Hollywood had gotten right about aiming guns was the most boring; breath control. If you were heaving in great lungfuls of air, then you'd never be able to even properly sight your target, let alone shoot the damn thing.
Will's rucksack was lying beside him, the slight wind having kicked up a fine coating of dust for it to wear whilst he lay down here. Inside was the usual fare; water, some snacks and, of course, spare ammunition. Never go out with only the magazine in the gun his father used to say, and he was right. You took spare ammo. You took it so that you could stay out longer. You took it so you could always have reserves. You took it so that if something was wrong with the magazine in the gun, you wouldn't return home with only a clicking sound to signal your lack of success. Of course, the real reason you took ammunition in the first place was simple; to shoot something.
At least this time, Will thought, there would be a point other than thinning out the hordes of pests that seemed to swamp Arizona like rabbits, and that was the Luz family wanting revenge for a few dead birds. Sure, it probably wasn't the particular coyote that was being lined up in his sights, but there you go. Life's a bitch, and then you get shot so it doesn't even matter. Breathe out and squeeze trigger, easy as that for him. Inside the gun however, the mechanisms would be working. The firing pin would strike down against the primer of the bullet, causing, contrary to popular belief, not an explosion, but a very fast controlled burn which would expel the bullet out on its deadly course. The bullet would be rotated by the rifling, increasing the accuracy and allowing it to hit it's mark.
Of course, to a human, all that was obvious would be the trigger going back and the alarmingly loud crack of the rifle as newton's... first law? third... law? Probably first. Newton's first law would come into effect; every action has an equal and opposite reaction. the equal action would be the recoil, and the opposite reaction would be the knock back felt, or rather not felt, by the coyote at the other end. He winced at the sound going off. He had been silly to forget the ear protection, and he'd certainly be hearing a wedding going on in his ears what with all the ringing, but it wasn't permanent. Probably.
There was a noise as the bullet smacked into the poor animal, and he looked through the sights to take a look. Clean shot, not quite through the eye, but you win some you lose some. Shouldering the rifle and one-strapping his rucksack, he moved slowly towards the dead canine, pausing as he smelt something rotten. Had the animal been ill? Upon arriving at the corpse however, Will quickly realized. "Well i'll be damned." he whistled to himself, surprised at his luck; "I actually got the same fucker who killed the chickens." He patted the dog on the head and picked it up, making sure not to get any blood on him. "Life's a bitch my friend, but you got shot for the right reason."
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Bang Bang, the coyote hits the ground
- Joined: March 15th, 2016, 4:05 pm
You don't win the game of death by dying first. The name's a little misleading.
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AUCTIONED OFF DUE TO INACTIVITY.
My eternal shame was that I let this happen.
Yeah, It hasn't even started yet and I already have characters, That's what happens when you're an idiot.
Elizabeth Wilson: "I rock an eyepatch. Kinda have to, but it's nice to have style in the bargain.
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