BCJ, Chapter 49: Shooting

I won’t spout any philosophical bullshit or say that I could feel the immense weight and power of the weapon in my hands. No, it was just a fucking gun. If you shot blanks outta it, then it wouldn’t be much better than a toy.

There were a few things I knew about firearms, specifically revolvers, after watching so many videos and playing so many video games over the decades. Never put your fingers or hands, hell, don’t even put anything to the sides or front of the cylinder. The back of the cylinder is relatively safe, but the front will shoot out plenty of hot gases once the gun is fired.

I didn’t bother cleaning the rounds off or the inside of the barrel, since I knew it was just gonna get dirty anyway. If gunpowder residue isn’t considered ‘dirty’, then I don’t fucking know what is… Even though it’s not particularly toxic and it’s highly unlikely to carry any bacteria or viruses, it’s still kinda gross.

The gun was still loaded with the standard .357 magnum rounds from the other day, so I unloaded them onto the counter and reloaded the gun with those cheap .38 Specials. It should be obvious, but since I never shot a gun before, I wanted to start with less recoil.

My right index finger was on the trigger, with the rest of my fingers on that hand simply wrapped around the grip. Then I used my left thumb to pull the hammer back. Revolvers generally don’t have safeties, aside from hammer blocks, so I was good to go as soon as I pulled the trigger.


“Ah, holy fuck! Goddamn it!”

“Shit, shit, cuntsauce!”

Both my bodies were screaming in agony, not because of the recoil or a misfire, but simply due to the absurdly loud noise! The room was pretty empty and didn’t have carpet or anything, so even just talking caused a lot of reverberations. A gunshot was deafening.

“Damn it… Good thing I didn’t try the magnum!” Ana grumbled, as she choked on the smoke. Yeah, it wasn’t actually that much gunpowder, and unlike cigarette smoke, I didn’t feel like I was gonna suffocate. It was still annoying though.

Anyway, the reason why it was so motherfucking loud, was because I fired the gun ‘inside’ the room. I was afraid that I would drop the gun if I had my arms dangling out the window, so I kept everything inside and hurt all four of my ears. Still, even though I was irritated and really needed to buy some ear protection, I decided to keep going.

*Pow-Pow-Pow-Pow-Pow~!* Since I wasn’t really aiming at anything but the horizon, I ‘fanned’ the hammer while holding down the trigger, with the gun at least a foot outside the window. It was still loud as hell, but Ana bore the brunt of the damage, since Michael was off doing more important things…

Okay, I was just writing a chapter of OP-ness Returns. I got inspired to write a JJ and Talia Arc, since I was able to shoot guns and bows in reality now. What? I’m an author, I can’t just stop writing. Ain’t that what I’m doing right now?

Though I guess this is a lot easier than writing a fictional story. I don’t have to make shit up, or come up with any fancy unrealistic encounters or fight scenes. I can just write a shit ton of unimportant information and get paid by the word. Speaking of which, it’s about time I got to that part, huh?

As I was starting to write about Jasmine Jade fucking Talia in the ass with her magical dick-girl panties, I received a message on the phone that was sitting on the desk in front of me. I placed it exactly at the center, well, on the edge of the top part of the desk. Obviously not the sliding piece of wood that my mousepad and keyboard were located on.

[∞: Since you seem to be neglecting the physical test, we have created a mental task for you to complete. Simply write a first-person account of the past few days, in great detail. Depending on the level of detail and the significance of your report, we will compensate you in kind.]

“Holy shit! Wait, that sounds like a lot of work…” I grumbled, wondering: “How much money are we talking about here?”

[∞: Up to ten dollars per word, depending on the circumstances. For example, psychological data that we otherwise could not ascertain: Sensations or emotions that you might not outwardly express. It is also possible that we might have missed some important pieces of information, that you are able to provide us with. Are you willing to undertake this task?]

“Sure, it ain’t like I’m getting paid to write OP-ness Returns, and I barely make anything from Immortal Soul anymore. I might as well write a story that actually makes money, right?” I snickered and asked, “By the way, what should I do with the casings? I’m tempted to throw them out the window, but is there some rule about littering?”

[∞: It is your property. Decorate it as your wish. For compostable trash, you may leave them outside, somewhere on your property. You could even toss it into the ocean. However, metallic, plastic and chemical waste should be kept on your land. Keep in mind that anything sitting out in the open, could potentially be taken by Scavengers… Not all inhabitants of the island are employees. Be on your guard when you leave the house. The windows are relatively bullet and blast proof, while the walls are concrete, reinforced with steel plates. The roof is potentially vulnerable, but for the most part, you should not be caught unprepared. We will warn you in the event of an emergency or enemy contact.]

“Oh great… Enemy motherfucking contact.” I sighed, murmuring: “Why does it sound like this island is even more dangerous than Baltimore City?”

[∞: For someone who never leaves their home, this island is significantly safer than any city in the United States. However, the chances of being injured or killed rise significantly when you leave your home. For now, we recommend that you continue staying inside.]

After that, they stopped talking to me and I got to work writing ‘this’ story. Anyway, I don’t wanna get too far ahead of myself. It’ll fuck up the chronology and annoy my OCD.

Since I basically gave negative-five fucks about my lawn, I casually dumped the cylinder out the window and the brass casings tumbled down into the tall grass. They probably hit a rock or something, because I heard some jingling, though it was mostly muffled by the stupid ducks quacking, seagulls cawing and waves crashing. Surprisingly enough, the stupid birds were chilling all over my beach and pier, not even reacting to the gunshots. Maybe they were used to it? I did hear popping and banging in the distance, ever so often. Some sounded like fireworks, while others sounded like a goddamn shootout, but it wasn’t constant.

“I need to order some speedloaders…” Ana grumbled, as she shoved the cartridges into the holes one at a time. Speedloaders were basically just clips, for revolvers. You don’t really see them often now days, but clips were these cheap strips that held multiple rounds of mostly rifle ammunition back in the World Wars. Since those rifles had internal box magazines, unlike the ones now days, that mostly have external magazines. Speedloaders for revolvers weren’t that expensive, maybe ten or fifteen dollars, but in order for them to be effective, you need multiple. And you still gotta load them ahead of time anyway. They’re more for competitions or actual combat, than just fucking around at a shooting range.

*Pow~! Pow~! Pow~! Pow~! Pow~! Pow~!*

I didn’t shoot particularly quickly, but I also didn’t really have a reason to take aim. I was just shooting randomly into the distance. I couldn’t even see any splashes or disturbances in the distant choppy water. The main thing was that I was getting used to the recoil of the .38 Specials, so that I would be mentally and physically prepared when I eventually fired the magnums.

Unfortunately, shooting at nothing was kinda boring. My ears hurt and my right wrist was a little achy, so I decided to call it a day. I closed that screenless window and left the gun sitting on the ledge there. 

“I need to take a shower…” I grumbled, as I headed straight for the upstairs bathroom. Of course, while Ana was doing that, Michael was writing like crazy. I was amazed at how easily I wrote the first chapter. It literally only took me ten minutes. Fifteen-hundred words in ten minutes… Shit, it was practically faster than I would read normally.

1 thought on “BCJ, Chapter 49: Shooting

  1. Pingback: Bloodline Cultivation Journal’s Table of Contents | Mike777ac

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