“Right, I remember asking for that,” I said. “Bring the crate here.”
I gestured to the area near my feet. It was difficult for me to see them through the slits in my metal mask. They put the large steel crate down and began the slow process of removing one of the box’s sides. I knew that I could have torn the side off the crate with the slightest movement. Eventually, the side popped off the crate, revealing dozens of smaller containers held within.
Each container was marked with words such as Food, Clothing, Tools, Explosives, Ammunition, and Guns. I reached in toward the container with the words Guns written on its side, but my hand couldn’t quite reach. With a grunt of annoyance, I carefully grabbed the crate on both sides so as not to break it, and I lifted it up at a forty-five degree angle. The container got stuck for a moment, so I shook it like a box of mostly-empty cereal until the container started to slide toward me. I used my head to keep the crate elevated while I reached in to grab the container. I placed the gun container on the ground and then slowly placed the crate down on the pallet.
When I removed my head from the crate, I saw that a look of awe had appeared on all of the Cognoscenti near me. Right, a five by five foot metal crate was supposed to be heavy, I remembered. It was amazing how quickly I had come to take my supernatural strength for granted.
I tried to ignore the hushed prayers and statements of religious supplication as I knelt down to open the container. Two long guns sat inside the container. One was a Bushmaster M4A3 carbine, and the other was an M24A3 bolt-action sniper rifle.
I removed the M4A3 carbine from its alcove within the mesh of the container. I removed the magazine from the magazine well and looked at the brass ammunition contained inside. As I expected, rounds of 5.56x45mm NATO ammo were held double-stacked inside of the magazine. Though, when I thought about it, NATO didn’t exist in Ferrum. Each magazine could hold thirty rounds of supersonic, monster-killing ammunition. I slapped the magazine back into place and racked the bolt before grasping my hand loosely around the pistol grip and placing my hand on the barrel shroud. I checked the iron sights and the fire selector. The M4 was set to safe, but I could set it to semi or full-auto with a flick of my finger. I placed the assault rifle on the ground and reached for the sniper rifle.
The M24 sniper rifle was chambered in .338 Lapua Magnum. I pulled the bolt back and chambered a brass bullet. Five heavy bullets could be held in detachable magazines, and each bullet was big enough to kill an elephant. At the top of the M24 was a long, fragile scope. Still inside the container sat a silencer and a detachable bipod.
Oh, it was like Christmas.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
I carefully returned the sniper rifle to its alcove in the container before resealing it. I slung the assault carbine’s sling around my shoulders. The process was quite difficult with my cloak, and I had to adjust my outfit a few times to get the sling all the way across. I fastened the carbine into a patrol carry position where it hung by my chest in such a way that I could grab and raise it to a ready position easily. Finally, I visually inspected the Beretta handgun that I had holstered at my hip. Perfect.
I returned the container to the crate and gestured for the workers to reseal it. As I stood up, trying not to let my body language betray my giddiness, Melkior spoke. “You really know your way around firearms. Were you a soldier?”
“Unless you count a few patrols with the local militia, no. I underwent basic training during the worst of the Three-Year War, and I’ve been an avid gun collector ever since,” I said. “I was never able to get my hands on this kind of hardware before, though.”
Null chuckled lightly at my statement. Looking at her directly for the first time since I arrived at the West Keep, I saw that she was wearing black athletic pants and a black tucked-in long-sleeve shirt. Her hair was tied back in a short ponytail in order to keep her hair away from her mask. Null’s outfit made her fade into the background somewhat. “You look at a weapon of war like it’s a cherished toy. It is very…” she stopped as if looking for the word, “cute.”
I hadn’t noticed it before, but Null spoke with a fading Japanese accent. She also spoke the sentence in a strange way, making it clear to me that she was not a native English speaker.
“To us, this thing is a toy,” I said, tapping the stock of my carbine as I spoke. “I could fire all thirty of these rounds at Melkior’s head, and he would barely feel it.”
“Please don’t,” Melkior said, “I don’t want to waste my mana.”
It took the rest of us a few seconds to realize that Melkior had just told a joke. The other three of us laughed, and Melkior cleared his throat to stifle a chuckle of his own.
Footsteps sounded out from the direction of the Vanguard Wall. I turned and saw five more Dark Apostles approaching. Based on the process of elimination, I knew that those five must be Crow, Fatima, Null, Poldra, and Kamil.
Crow’s voice cut through the low din of conversation that filled the Departure Courtyard. “Hey, Apostles! It’s time to mount up!”
The four low-numbered Apostles looked over to the source of the voice and began to break away from the throngs of adoring fans. Sven had to put down the two young women he was carrying balanced on his biceps, and Kojiro had to step away from a woman he was clearly having an intimate conversation with. Kojiro pulled his shirt away to reveal the IV and put his hand to his ear in a clear “call me” gesture.
All thirteen of the Dark Apostles quickly formed up behind Crow who was quickly walking toward the outer portcullis of the Departure Courtyard. As I formed up with the others, I took in the image that we projected.
Thirteen beings with supernatural power, all dressed in thick black cloaks and grey metal masks, walked across the Departure Courtyard with a purpose. It was undeniable. We truly looked like the bad guys.