Read Online G.H.O.S.T. Teams (Book 2) Shifters by Bobby Brimmer - Free Book Online
Authors: Bobby Brimmer
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but they were impressed. I waited for Hunter to say something, but he just turned to face me, his body perfectly perpendicular to the target, and he smiled.
Moving at a speed that even impressed me, he drew a gun with his right hand, pointed it down-range, and fired without even looking at the target. In fact, he kept his eyes locked on mine, smiling at me the entire time. His gun looked like nothing I had ever seen before. It was long and angled, comprised of both metal and wood, and thanks to its shape, I was reminded a bit of the old flintlock pistols. But in contrast to its single shot predecessor, I saw no hammer on the top of the weapon and this gun had a metal bullet drum in front of the trigger guard. The drum was narrow and unlike your standard revolver, there were no grooves to reveal how many bullets it chambered. In fact, it almost looked at if there were two drums, one seamlessly positioned in front of the other. The shot was incredibly quiet and no shell was ejected from the weapon. As he stood there holding the gun outstretched, I could see a wisp of smoke rising from the barrel.
Before I could even turn to look down-range, I was distracted by the gasp of my team. I glanced back to see them staring, jaws agape, looking at the target. At that point I turned to see where his shot landed. Considering how my team reacted, I wasn’t the least bit shocked when I noticed the nose he perfectly placed on my “shuriken face”. I smiled at the kid.
“Holy Crap,” Danny yelled, “How’d you do that without looking?”
Hunter shrugged, “It’s all about angles and vectors.”
“Vectors, huh?” I smirked, “Okay, Vector, how about we up the difficulty a bit?”
He actually laughed more than I expected at that, “Really? Is that what you’re planning to call me?”
“It seems fitting somehow, doesn’t it?”
“If only you knew,” he smiled, “But one shot hardly seems enough for a nickname. I’m not sure I’ve earned it yet.”
With that he clicked a couple of buttons in front of us and sent the target moving. The little cardboard man was not only moving further away from us, but also swaying side to side, creating a much more difficult target. Hunter started whistling as he waited for it to get further down-range. When it reached the point he wanted, he spun to face it, drawing his other pistol in a fluid motion as he turned. Again he moved with frightening speed, every muscle in his body seeming to be under complete control. The pistol in his left hand was identical to the one in his right, and it fired first. As he pulled the trigger, the overhead range display read a distance of one hundred and twenty feet.
The shots were incredibly quiet, the guns clearly possessing some kind of incorporated suppressor. But there was a loud “tink” as the round struck its target. Hunter fired again, another “tink” rang out from down range. He made three more shots, each one making the same “tink” sound, before bumping the button with the back of his hand and stopping the target. Timing his shots every ten feet or so, the target now sat still at just over one hundred and sixty feet. He bumped another button with his knuckles, as he was still holding his pistol, and the target started moving back towards us. I already knew what the sound was, but once the target got closer, we could all see that he blasted each of my stars straight through the face. He spun each gun once, like some kind of tiny Wild West cowboy, before re-holstering the weapons and turning to face me.
“So, did I pass?” he asked.
“It’s a good start.”
At that point the rest of the team rushed forward, Danny at the lead, patting Hunter on the back. Although they were talking over each other, it was clear that in addition to complimenting him, they were asking for shooting advice, making target requests, and in general gushing all over the place. While Freddy and Danny were clearly the more enthusiastic fans, Kara and
Moving at a speed that even impressed me, he drew a gun with his right hand, pointed it down-range, and fired without even looking at the target. In fact, he kept his eyes locked on mine, smiling at me the entire time. His gun looked like nothing I had ever seen before. It was long and angled, comprised of both metal and wood, and thanks to its shape, I was reminded a bit of the old flintlock pistols. But in contrast to its single shot predecessor, I saw no hammer on the top of the weapon and this gun had a metal bullet drum in front of the trigger guard. The drum was narrow and unlike your standard revolver, there were no grooves to reveal how many bullets it chambered. In fact, it almost looked at if there were two drums, one seamlessly positioned in front of the other. The shot was incredibly quiet and no shell was ejected from the weapon. As he stood there holding the gun outstretched, I could see a wisp of smoke rising from the barrel.
Before I could even turn to look down-range, I was distracted by the gasp of my team. I glanced back to see them staring, jaws agape, looking at the target. At that point I turned to see where his shot landed. Considering how my team reacted, I wasn’t the least bit shocked when I noticed the nose he perfectly placed on my “shuriken face”. I smiled at the kid.
“Holy Crap,” Danny yelled, “How’d you do that without looking?”
Hunter shrugged, “It’s all about angles and vectors.”
“Vectors, huh?” I smirked, “Okay, Vector, how about we up the difficulty a bit?”
He actually laughed more than I expected at that, “Really? Is that what you’re planning to call me?”
“It seems fitting somehow, doesn’t it?”
“If only you knew,” he smiled, “But one shot hardly seems enough for a nickname. I’m not sure I’ve earned it yet.”
With that he clicked a couple of buttons in front of us and sent the target moving. The little cardboard man was not only moving further away from us, but also swaying side to side, creating a much more difficult target. Hunter started whistling as he waited for it to get further down-range. When it reached the point he wanted, he spun to face it, drawing his other pistol in a fluid motion as he turned. Again he moved with frightening speed, every muscle in his body seeming to be under complete control. The pistol in his left hand was identical to the one in his right, and it fired first. As he pulled the trigger, the overhead range display read a distance of one hundred and twenty feet.
The shots were incredibly quiet, the guns clearly possessing some kind of incorporated suppressor. But there was a loud “tink” as the round struck its target. Hunter fired again, another “tink” rang out from down range. He made three more shots, each one making the same “tink” sound, before bumping the button with the back of his hand and stopping the target. Timing his shots every ten feet or so, the target now sat still at just over one hundred and sixty feet. He bumped another button with his knuckles, as he was still holding his pistol, and the target started moving back towards us. I already knew what the sound was, but once the target got closer, we could all see that he blasted each of my stars straight through the face. He spun each gun once, like some kind of tiny Wild West cowboy, before re-holstering the weapons and turning to face me.
“So, did I pass?” he asked.
“It’s a good start.”
At that point the rest of the team rushed forward, Danny at the lead, patting Hunter on the back. Although they were talking over each other, it was clear that in addition to complimenting him, they were asking for shooting advice, making target requests, and in general gushing all over the place. While Freddy and Danny were clearly the more enthusiastic fans, Kara and
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