Lock, Step and Gone

Separate from the barracks, the showers are exactly as their name would suggest. The room is, in essence, a large bathroom facility with an open shower area. It's an ideal place to rest, but don't loiter around for too long. The lone door in the front of the building could sign your fate if an ambitious player follows you inside.
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Ares
Posts: 557
Joined: Tue Aug 14, 2018 5:25 am
Location: Canada

Lock, Step and Gone

#1

Post by Ares »

((The Riz continued from Trashed and Scattered))

This was like the perfect day so far. He'd caught up on a lot of necessary sleep, he felt re-energized and now he'd once again won a prize for his kills. John was on cloud nine as he strut his way to the showers to lay claim to the award. He'd listened to the announcement with great interest, noting that Gabe McCallum was dead, which if John's calculations were correct meant that Digaetano was the only one left of their ill fated football team. Wade Wilson was also killed. John made a mental note to thank Ed Sullivan for making his job easier if he saw him. Lenny and Lex also scored kills which meant they were still actively hunting down everyone just like he was. He'd need to be on his best if he was going to compete with them.

"Oh my, and you will certainly help." John said excitedly as he opened the case labeled: B58 - J.R. Rizzolo, taking a moment to notice the gold emblazoned letters on the front which said "H & K".

The case opened to reveal something beautiful. It was a Heckler and Koch MP7 Submachine Gun. John quickly grabbed it and the instruction manual. Flipping through he took notice of the adjustable stock length for each of the fire modes. Pistol, Rifle, and Fully Automatic.

"No way..." He gasped as he read the last page.

The instructional manual was kind of enough to inform him that the barrel of an MP7 could be fitted with a suppressor. John shifted with excitement as he drew his Type 67 hoping to remove its silencer, praying that it would fit the barrel of the MP7. It didn't. John hadn't noticed before but the silencer that was fitted on to his pistol, was actually grafted on. Non-removable. John shrugged his shoulders. It didn't matter. This was still a perfect day in his eyes.

"Thank you." He said into a nearby camera.

He scooped up the generous helping of ammunition and left the area, loading the first magazine of ammo into the gun.

((John continued in Kotov Syndrome))
Stuff. Things. Stuff and things.
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