route666rp | June Catchall [ OTA ]

Entry tags:

June Catchall [ OTA ]

Who: Vincent Valentine, Various
What: Things in June but not Event-coded.
When: Through June, prior and during event.
Where: Convoy Shop Trailer, Convoy Environs
Warnings: Guns and guntalk. Vampire-coded potential stuff (blood, blood-drinking)

Gun Shop

Vincent has taken over a small area in the Convoy's 'shop' trailer in which he's posted strict hours of business for the purpose of trading or requesting guns and ammunition, maintainence, repair or basic lessons. There are some neatly written rules.

-Don't bother me during non-business hours unless it's an emergency.
    Ammo and repairs are emergencies.
    Securing salvaged firearms and ammo are emergencies.
    Wanting a gun or lessons are not.
-No one is entitled to have a firearm.
-Ammo is limited. Don't waste it.
-You're required to prove proficiency and responsibility.
-You may ask to be taught.
-Privilege may be revoked.

Like clockwork, Vincent will be found at the posted hours with a list of current ammunition and a sample selection of available firearms. Pistol, revolver, shotgun, single shot rifles and assault rifles. They are/are loosely based on 20th-21st century Earth and caliber. Most look right at home in a post apoc setting as far as 'wear and tear' but have been clearly repaired and are in perfect working order.

Vincent himself is a dark haired man with pale skin - as much as can be seen given his attire - wearing a red cloak with a high collar over a black leather outfit. His left hand is wearing a bronzen metal gauntlet with pointed clawtips and he has matching armor plates on his boots. He's usually working on a gun that needs repair unless he's dealing with a hopeful customer.

Convoy

Vincent's physical presence seems sparse outside of his 'shop hours'. Moreso than usual; generally someone could spot his red cloaked self hanging around on some distant cliff edge or on top of the trailers. Or even by his weird rat rod of a car. But once night falls he tends to check in if he's agreed to guard the convoy that particular evening or just vanish until morning out into the riverlands.

That said, during the day, he'll be looking to speak to a few people he's heard of and during those moments anyone might catch him for a moment if he happens to wander by. How long he'll stay on the other hand...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

This world is dangerous. That much is abundantly clear, and as much as Edward would like to be out of war and away from violence, that doesn't seem to be happening anytime soon. So when he hears about a gun shop, he carefully, laboriously makes his way over to it.

If he's going to be here, he's going to try and arm himself.

He gets directions from various people throughout the convoy, and taps his way over, feeling along the ground with a stick in one hand. When his stick hits the trailer steps, he stops, nearly overbalancing and falling over.

"Pardon me, but is this the gun shop?"

To be clear, the 'shop spaces' are all in a trailer of the second half of the convoy and Vincent has commandeered one of those booths. But there are indeed stairs and a door.

And one 'shopkeeper' who has heard Edward's approach and been observing the landscape outside the propped open door at the top of the steps.

"...Yes." His voice is a bit distant because yes, he hasn't bothered to get up to see if he can help. Well, it's not like Edward has asked for it.

Edited 2025-06-10 23:36 (UTC)

Edward will learn very quickly that the shops are actually booths in a trailer, but no one has specified that to him yet. For all he knows, the entire trailer is bristling with artillery.

"Ah, very good." Edward uses his stick to tap out the steps, but doesn't start climbing them yet. "I'm hoping you can help me. I'd like to try and arm myself."

Edited 2025-06-11 15:13 (UTC)

Vincent observes the careful mapping of the stairs without comment. But this does raise an observation in the wake of Edward's request.

"Interesting." He doesn't state the obvious. Yet at the same time, his tone remains even, almost indifferent; this isn't condescending, nor dismissive. "Why a gun?"

Edward bristles slightly when he's called interesting, but it fades away when there's no further commentary. Yes, he's aware of how mad this must seem, a blind man asking for a gun, but at least the man he's speaking to isn't outwardly judging him.

He can handle judgment, as long as it isn't blatantly smeared in his face.

"I was--am--a soldier in His Majesty's Royal Army. If we're going to be this dangerous world, I would like to be able to defend myself."

There's a brief silence before Vincent responds.

"Come here and have a seat." There isn't a seat in the trailer's corridor but Vincent will make sure to put one out before Edward can reach the stand. Not much traffic so it won't matter if he blocks the aisle; no one else seems to have made use of the shops yet.

"Thank you."

Success! Edward carefully navigates his way up the steps, then follows the sound of Vincent's voice until his stick collides with the chair. He feels his way around it, then settles in.

"I'll be perfectly honest with you: I'm from 1917. I don't know if that date means anything in your world, but it is... antiquated, apparently, in mine. If you have anything that's too technologically advanced, I won't know how to use it."

He's not opposed to learning, mind you, if Vincent is willing to teach him. If not, something basic would be better for him.

"It means something," Vincent begins. "But probably not the same thing."

He doesn't bother explaining why he feels that's the case. Besides, there is the elephant in the room they must discuss first.

"You're blind. Permanently?" Again there is no judgement here. It sounds like he is trying to understand what needs to be understood.

Edward isn't going to push the issue. He's just glad Vincent has some concept for 1917, even if the meaning is different.

He appreciates the direct question, as well. He'd much prefer just addressing the issue and getting the awkward conversation finished.

"Yes. As to the permanence..." He waves one hand in a half dismissive, half questioning gesture. "Baring some sort of medical wizardry or advanced technology of which I'm not yet aware, also yes."

"Mm."

That is an acknowledged and hald thoughtful sound. But even on his world, permanent blindness exists. Even if Vincent had the right materia or an eye drop potion, it would probably be ineffective.

"Couldn't say." Is the possibility here? Maybe. Right now Vincent has to go with the assumption that it isn't.

"I could have you explain the technology you're used to. Provide you a gun close to it probably. Did you learn to compensate for your blindness?"

Vincent isn't going to assume Edward hasn't just... always been blind and his world somehow has ways to address that in combat training.

Not like Vincent himself can't shoot accurately with his eyes closed.

Give Edward some time to develop his eventual dryder senses, and he won't need his eyes for shooting either. But right now, those senses are very much in their infancy, consisting only of some vague tingles through the soles of his feet, and so Edward assumes he'll have to learn how to do all this blind.

"That would be a good place to start. I'm most familiar with..." And here Edward rattles off the guns he's used to using: hunting rifles, WWI infantry rifles, and an officer's handgun.

"And no," he concludes. "My injury was recent. I will be learning all over again."

There will be a sense of a counter between the two but Vincent's voice suggests he's in close proximity other than that; he's settled back to his seat on the other side.

"Recent. Hm." It's clear he's musing all over again if the silence is any indication. Is Edward sensitive to peoples' attention? For Vincent is studying him carefully as if he were never taught it would be rude to stare so. The descriptions used to list off the weapons is filed away. Whether it will be useful information depends on how the rest of this discussion goes.

"How complete is it?"

Not all blindness is utter darkness. And the man does still have his eyes in some fashion.

One of the few benefits of being blinded is that Edward can't tell when people are staring at him. He assumes Vincent is, but knows it could also just be paranoia on his part.

He does appreciate how forthright Vincent is being. He's learned that being suddenly disabled is an endless barrage of euphemisms and well-meaning people trying to downplay things. Someone being so direct, while also not judging, is refreshing.

Still, this last question isn't an easy one to answer, and Edward needs to take a moment before responding.

"Complete. I'm told that the burns penetrated deep enough to scar over everything responsible for sight."

Answers like that are never easy. But Vincent is patient and he waits for Edward. Afterward, there is a pause. Not ominously long. But maybe surprisingly short given the air of decision the words which follow give.

"I can't give you a gun in your current condition." It is not cold in the sense of being dismissive. It is frank and to the point. Vincent doesn't waste time on adding compassion.

"I can give you a chance. It's not impossible to compensate for your blindness. Whether that means you can reach the level needed to use a gun or need to train another weapon depends on you."

His gaze shifts away from Edward, staring into the distance in thought.

"Mm. This place changes us. Physically. Mentally. I don't know if it will give you a boon. Or if you will find a way to heal your sight that didn't exist where you come from. Time will tell."

That was quite maudlin of him, if not outright chatty. He settles again and his gaze returns to the blind man.

"What do you want to do?"

It is, honestly, the answer Edward expects. That doesn't make it any easier to hear, and he bows his head for a moment.

After another moment's pause, he lifts it, turning his face back towards the sound of Vincent's voice.

"A chance is all I want. I understand why you can't help me now; if you know any way I could attempt to compensate, I would be happy to hear it."

The talk about physical changes Edward brushes aside. He assumes Vincent means people get stronger, or weaker, or something like that. He hasn't yet figured out what change really means here.

"May I assist you in cleaning and oiling parts? There is," and he raises them, palms out, to show Vincent, "nothing wrong with my hands."

"I'll keep it in mind." Vincent isn't so altruistic as to reject a favor owed. His willingness to step out of the shadows and offer practical training is not only to contribute to the security of the Convoy. Give and take; if he provides, he can lean on an expectation of reciprocity.

But he's in no rush to collect. Privately he approves of the wisdom in Edward not promising a favor carte blanche.

There will be a check of the steadiness in Edward's hands. The sound of the chair creaking as Vincent rises from it follows. It's accompanied by the sound of fabric fluttering through the air, footsteps punctuated by the click of metal plates against one another; is he wearing segmented armor? Other sounds; soft clicks and clatter of opening lids and sliding a case off a shelf.

Vincent didn't speak before he got up, nor does he during the accompanying noise. But he never said no. Footsteps once more return to the counter and the chair is resettled.

"Put your hands on the counter. A foot and a half apart."

Once the man has followed the instruction, he will hear the click of small items being placed between their position. Then something heavier; what must be the gun itself, though rather than placed between, it is just above the position of his hands. After all it's a bit longer in length.

An unusual sound might also be heard at that point; the odd light series of clicking as if something metal were tapping against the metal of the gun before withdrawing. It's probably fine.

"From your left to right hand, there's solvent, lubrication, cloths and tools. Picks then brushes. The rifle is a bolt action. It isn't loaded."

And it's closer to an American standard issue of the time than British, but can't be helped. Many of the beats should be the same and Vincent appears to be reasonable. He would probably talk through any extra steps.

But it is clear that the man isn't going to hold Edward's hand, either. Quite literally, only describing the order of presentation rather than leading the man to each in turn. To many it might seem unusually harsh. But that is not the reason.

Vincent hadn't a means to really mark the bottles, but one is larger than the other and everything else has an easy 'by feel' element. The former Turk falls silent and lets Edward offer questions or simply begin.

Edward isn't even thinking about favours owed or called upon, although his sense of honour won't let him shirk a debt. He is trying to keep himself from going mad with boredom, and if that makes him useful around the convoy, all the better. He's well aware that he is, at the moment, a burden, and he is desperate to change that.

He waits patiently while Vincent moves and puts things on the table. The faint clink of metal against metal doesn't surprise him; it was a common enough sound in the trenches, little bits and pieces of hanging metal brushing against each other as men moved through confined spaces. The tap of something metallic along the gun does make him tilt his head. He wonders if Vincent has a prosthetic arm, and was using a hook to touch the gun.

It doesn't matter. Edward would be the last person in the convoy to deliberately call out anyone else's infirmities.

He nods once Vincent is done explaining, and pats upwards on the table until he feels the gun. Once it's in his hands, he recognises the shape and feel of it--a rifle, bolt action, slightly different than the one he carried in the trenches but not terribly--and the first thing he does is check to make sure it is, in fact, unloaded.

Never assume any gun is unloaded. Check for yourself. Words his grandfather drilled into him as a young man.

With that out of the way, Edward sets to taking the rifle apart and cleaning it. He doesn't do it quickly, losing time patting around the table to find the brushes, solvent, and cloths, but he is methodical and accurate. Midway through, as it gets more complicated and frustration starts to build, he remembers something Thomas Barrow suggested to him.

Close your eyes. Maybe just having them be closed will trick your mind into relaxing.

He closes his eyes, and the trick works. He finishes the rest of the process without any further delays or hesitation. When he's done, he sets the rifle down in front of himself on the table.

"There wasn't much to do in the trenches. We spent a great deal of time cleaning our rifles."

Well done, Edward. Those memories stood him well, for claiming a gun was unloaded was a test too. It was but it is good to see that this was confirmed. The rest is about waiting and Vincent shows just as much patience as before.

When the weapon is placed back down, reassembled and as gleaming as an old, worn weapon can be, the clicking sound that might possibly have been a form of prosthetic happens again as Vincent retrieves it. And if that's what it is, then the swift sounds of disassembly and checking each part closely for signs of leftover grit or the wrong amount of lubrication will tell a tale of how long the gunman must have had it to become used to it; the reassembly is just as quick.

"An hour after the Convoy stops for the night and for two hours after that. Those are the hours I'm here. Come by and spend as much time as you want to help me maintain the armory like this."

He won't deny the extra hands for routine upkeep. He's managed to find and repair a decent stock of serviceable guns.

"The rest we'll see as you go." Start small. Work the way up. There's sounds of Vincent collecting the tools and bottles so they and the rifle can be put back in place.

"Do you want to ask anything else right now?"

Edward hears the metallic clicking again, and it reinforces his belief that Vincent must have a prosthetic arm. The speed at which he manipulates the gun--those sounds, at least, Edward knows and recognises--duly impresses him. Whether he turns out to be right about Vincent having a prosthetic or not, meeting with him has given Edward a new goal: to learn how to assemble and reassemble a rifle just as quickly. He never met any men who had had a similar injury to his own and overcome it. Perhaps it would have been easier if he had.

"Thank you for the opportunity." Edward recognises an unspoken dismissal, and gets to his feet. He might not be leaving with what he'd hoped for, but he's pleased by the way this meeting has gone.

"Yes. What shall I call you?" He offers his right hand out to shake, holding his walking stick with the other. "My name is Edward Courtenay."

A sigh. There's the sound of the man rising from his seat. The hand that's offered seems normal; covered in a leather glove by the feel of it. The handshake itself is brief, yet firm.

"Vincent Valentine."

There probably couldn't have been a better outcome save a miraculous eyesight cure, could there? And it's probably for the best that this gun 'quartermaster' is, while non-judgemental, wholly unwilling to hand out the weapons to anyone who just comes asking.

The sounds that follow suggest he's cleaning up the counter. There will be other work to do but always with a tidy work station.

"There's a man with a forge. Jayce. He might have ideas for the cane."

Maybe not into a weapon- the feedback of the cane is an integral part- but something more suited to the environment they're traveling in. Couldn't hurt to check.

And if anyone around here can provide a melee weapon for self protection? Well it's going to be the guy with the forge. Probably.

Edward adjusts his mental image of Vincent to put his prosthetic hand on the left side. It's fortunate that he likely didn't lose his dominant hand.

"Ah. Thank you for the advice." Edward could certainly use something stronger than the stick he's been carrying. He'll have to find this Jayce fellow and see if he can orchestrate a trade of some kind with him.

Edward can tell that he's being dismissed, and after they shake hands, he bobs his head in acknowledgement.

"Thank you very kindly, Mr. Valentine. I'll be seeing you again."

And with that, he takes his leave, tapping his way out of the trailer.

Since Vincent opened his "shop" Levi had been stopping by to drop off any ammo he finds but doesn't need. Mostly shot gun shells or other random stuff that won't work in either his rifle or his back-up hand gun. He's doing the same thing today, dropping off a small paper bag of shells, but he sticks around afterwards.

He's seen the power plant and it was obvious people were going to want to check it out. His body may have changed to accommodate the water better (sort of. He seems to have hooves and horse ears now.), but his weapons were another thing. A gun won't do any good underwater, but there were those balloon things hovering around the bridges.

"Do you have anything that works but wouldn't be a pain to lose?" If he falls into the water he could try to clean out the gun later but with monsters in the water he might not get it back.

It's sometime after the shield's been repaired that Heat turns up again, this time at Vincent's shop of all things. He'd waited for the appropriate hours at least, as it was hardly an emergency, and the scrutiny to which the selection of example weapons are subjected to is not that of a novice.

He preferred grenade launchers, but he'd generally make do if he had to. This, however, wasn't about him.

At least not for the gun part. "You have AP rounds or just normal lead?"

That was very polite of him. Vincent may even appreciate this given Heat's normal manner. The question draws a furrowed brow with thought.

"Some. More like a scattered variety." There's an undercurrent in his tone that indicates Vincent isn't thrilled at the lack. But what can he do? Finding some at all was a boon.

"Find something out there with heavy armor?"

He'd been out down the rivers a lot but other than the elphadunk- which Heat showed he could take down- he hadn't seen anything that might call for armor penetration.

Scavenging has downsides. If they didn't just happen to STUMBLE across what they needed, it was tough luck. "Yeah. Me."

One thumb jerked briefly towards his chest before he reaches to pick up one of the guns on display. He's not stupid enough to point a weapon at anyone he doesn't intend to kill, but his idea of a good assault rifles was honed by the Junkyard and not availability. "Haven't seen anything anyone's carrying with a high enough caliber to get through my hide yet."

"So you're wondering if we have the ability to take down your other form?"

It's a valid question. And if armor penetration rounds are required....

"What caliber would you expect to harm you?"

It's not that Vincent thinks it's the only solution. But understanding what is needed will let him determine what's possible with the abilities he's seen.

Heat makes a low affirmative noise, setting the assault rifle back down. Not bad, but he didn't like them. Wouldn't use them. "I go long enough without devouring and I'll probably turn on whoever's closest. I'm not stupid enough to willingly starve myself, but sometimes there's weird shit other demons can do."

Heighten the hunger to uncontrollable levels, drive anyone berserk with ravenous desire to kill. He handled his required intake regularly and comfortably, eating what was once human is not a problem at all, but if something interfered..

He doesn't see what he's after on display though. "A tungsten core armor piercing round for an AK-47 should at least cause some harm. Getting a cryo-core bullet's not going to happen around here."

Vincent nods. There's no need to put anything to words; they both understand the situation in their own way.

"...Alright. I can't prove it easily. But I know at least two people can handle that. As well as myself. There's probably more."

There's someone Sephiroth had mentioned being able to keep up with him. And the former Turk has probably seen others fighting, both as themselves and the monsters they're becoming. Though the latter can't always be trusted anymore than Agni.

"The main problem with manufacturing ammo is the chemicals." They could probably find metals and make alloys from salvage. "And determining which rounds have the requisite core..."

He'll have to see if anyone has ideas on that. Most of the casing heads are stamped with caliber size, but many other markings are a mystery. Vincent lets out a sigh.

"What's a cryo-core?" He's curious about that.

"Serph could, but it's not for him. Anyone with ice magic will do." A handgun is picked up next. Definitely too small caliber to do much more than annoy a demon. "Your convoy's got a self-appointed protector who thought using little energy weapons would work. It wants to play hero, it's gonna need something much higher caliber." The smirk that crosses his face is anything but friendly ... but people don't usually go out of their way to arm enemies. "You want to give it a go though, let's find out."

Not right now, he's looking for bullets. But eventually.

Things like actually MAKING bullets isn't something Heat's ever bothered with. Those were always just.. supplied. It was nice, and he rather missed having the ability to just go down to the weapons depot to get more when needed. He shrugs; he can't help with any of that, he just knows what might work.

"Bullet with an elemental charge. Fire, ice, lightning and so on. Hard to get your hands on but sometimes the only way a gun's going to hurt a demon."

Vincent's gaze follows Heat as he picks over the weapons on display.

"Planning to give them an upgrade?" How nice of you, Heat. The dry tone indicates it's partially a jest. Because it is quite possible to be an accurate guess and a very good idea doesn't mean there isn't something amusing about arming one's future enemy.

"Depends on what you mean by giving it a go." This... a little more somberly. Vincent's gaze is serious and not unwilling. He is willing to prove he's capable but whether there's a safe way to do that...

The explanation of cryo-cores... "Ah. That's what you mean." Elementally charged ammunition. The concept is recognized. And it's another thing he'll probably end up asking Jayce about.

"I'm familiar with the concept. Methods are different where I'm from." Maybe decades ago, weapons were infused with elemental power or permanently instilled with materia as that technology developed. But it seemed to be slowly replaced over time as materia became more available and was generally more versatile.

Well, that doesn't matter now.

"Sure. Why not?" It's almost as if he's betting on coming to blows with SecUnit in the future. But given SecUnit's protectiveness of the noncombatants along for the ride, it may indeed only be a matter of time.

It doesn't seem he's finding a gun that suits his tastes because he keeps putting them back. "Ah, come on. You know what I mean. You'll have to work damn hard to kill me, so don't worry about that." He was, of everyone in his tribe, the most alarmingly resilient, so long as nobody had ice on hand. "It'll be a good chance to find out how limited the spells are in this place anyway."

One way or another, ice bullets aren't a thing, and thus there's no reason to bother thinking about it much. "We find some, I'm claiming them."

There's another little pause of silence which indicates Vincent is thinking. Two birds with one stone can be satisfied here.

"I'm free in the evenings. Afterward, I can determine the best options in the arsenal. And what needs to be addressed."

What to keep a look out for in the future and how he himself can help to keep Agni from tearing through the Convoy if the demon goes out of Heat's control. As for elemental bullets?

"Find them first." It's almost a challenge. Well, Vincent would be interested in seeing one. "Though if you beat me to them, I'd like a chance to examine one."

Maybe having a second demon that's a Unicorn isn't all bad, even if he got torn up significantly he could theoretically just heal it. Sure he'd be weak afterward if Serph was anything to go by but knowing his limits before it's really needed seemed like .... well like something Gale would insist on.

"We get out of all this water, there's always daytime too. The vehicles have some kind of autopilot, they'll catch up." But he doesn't want to fight somewhere with all this mud, thankfully the convoy was going to park somewhere reasonably dry every night.

It's for the best he couldn't get anything fire to work. They'd draw too much attention. "Yeah yeah. I'll need to hand some over to you nerds anyway to get more made, right?"

Vincent does need to really test that. But this particular situation isn't that day. He lets out a sigh.

"My condition comes with problems during the day." Unless it's cloudy or where the sun can't reach.

...What he needs is a large rimmed hat.

"...So I'd like to make our first match without any handicaps."

Heat makes a noise somewhere between a snort and a laugh. "It's not much of a match if the goal is to see if you can put me down, not if I can kill you." There's different goals! He won't be fighting at his most determined, when the purpose is to see how much harm Vincent's even capable of doing! Doing damage in return is kind of pointless. Sure, Agni wouldn't hold back, but Vincent is clearly a man with an arsenal. He shouldn't ever get in range.

In theory. "But that's fine too. It's not like being dark's a problem." Can't be handicapped by darkness when there's no eyes to begin with. "I'll catch up in a couple days, we'll give it a shot then. See what you're capable of."

Vincent may not be a social man or even someone who would go out of his way to seek a fight and a test of strength.

But it doesn't mean he isn't looking forward to something that, while meant to test something very grim and serious, is not a life or death match. It will, particularly with Heat's personality, even present an interesting challenge.

"Leave the gun until you're sure. I want to make sure your friend's capable of using it."

Because really, lasers? Does that mean they know the ins and outs of projectile weapons?

"It's not my 'friend'." Heat's bared teeth is anything but a smile, for all that it has a vague similarity to the expression. "I'd rather kill it and get it over with." But orders are orders, and with very few exceptions he would still obey whether he liked those orders or not.

But since murder's not an option..! "Can't say for sure if it has any idea what to do with an automatic or not, guess I'll have to teach it to shoot too if necessary." He sounds disgusted by the idea, as the last gun he examined is set back down. Doesn't seem like he intends to take anything for himself.

'It' does suggest one person to Vincent. His head tilts briefly. Hm. Well, whatever became of his encounter with SecUnit earlier shouldn't impact matters here. In fact it might refine it.

"You can send it to me. Since I'll have a good idea of what to arm it with. And I'd prefer to check their skill myself."

Being a responsible gun quartermaster (self-imposed) means not just handing a gun out on the principle of 'trust me I'll train them proper'.

Especially when Vincent isn't sure ofHeat's gun skill.

But more importantly?

"I know of a few places we can set up this test. But do you have any preferences?"

The redhead waves one dismissive hand. "Do what you want with it. I just want to see the look on its face when I hand it weaponry better than those little blasters it has now." If someone's going to try to fight him, he wanted them to have a snowballs chance in Hell. As things stand right now.. it's terribly unequal in his favor.

It's not really a sense of fairness on Heat's part. He just doesn't want to be bored. "It'll depend on where we stop. Somewhere not soaking wet would be nice. Out of easy earshot of the convoy." He sets one hand on his hip, frowning. "Someone's going to want to interfere thinking they're playing the hero, and that'd be a real pain in the ass."

Yup, Vincent isn't going to get too much in between these two. Probably. Maybe accidentally.

"Come together with him, then."

And that's enough to be said on the matter between SecUnit and Heat. Hopefully it works out in the end.

"Hm. Tricky. I'd planned send a warning about the test. But there's a few people I can trust to watch the boundaries and warn people off."

His tone has turned a bit thoughtful and not for any bad reason; the Convoy tends to pick the driest high ground to station itself and with all the water around, sound's going to carry.

Ever heard a fireworks show bounce sound twenty miles downriver?

"How would you feel about an audience?"

The last word is said with subtle disgruntlement as if Vincent himself isn't too thrilled about it.

"They stay out of it, I don't care." He'd prefer no audience. Audiences meant likely interference. "The more people hanging around the more likely someone's going to be an idiot and get in the way thinking they're being helpful. You don't invite every asshole around to a shooting range."

Heat's treating it as approximately the same as shooting at a target. It's not a fight, not really. It's not about fighting. Well intentioned morons getting in the way because how dare they shoot each other is going to slow the entire process down AND waste ammunition.

"We'll take one of the vehicles out. Drive an hour, nobody will hear a thing."

Things could go wrong, the more people that were watching. But he couldn't talk people into providing lookout and not expect them to spectate.

"Hm. Alright. I'll ask a few people to keep watch. I can be ready by tomorrow evening. But I don't think we should wait longer than two days to do this."

Two days is plenty of time. He didn't really think of it as an emergency, but expedience was always welcome. "Tomorrow it is. You on a timeclock?"

Then again the convoy might be moving on to different terrains by then.. getting it out of the way might be a better idea.

A mild snort follows the question.

"We all are. It'll be better to do this while we've got a grasp on the dangers of the area. Before we move into another region."

And also? The sooner this is worked out, the more chance people have against a feral Agni.

"Next place might be dryer," Heat observes, tone almost mild. He's not thrilled about all this wet. "But sure. It'll give me something to do a little sooner, this place gets boring."

Doesn't look like he's going for a gun himself, none of them are his preferred types. "You come across a grenade launcher, you let me know. Otherwise you can keep these ones for other people." He's got other means of slaughter, and he happily used them. But if he HAD to.. bombs were the way to go.

"Next place might be literally on fire and we're all Bombs." Vincent counters dryly. He's not without some cynicism for their plight.

But testing the feasibility of AP rounds in a place more likely to cook ammo than let it be fired from a gun doesn't sound safe. Hey, it could happen.

"...Alright." There might have been a pause. He reaches under the counter where some ammo containers and crates as stored for easy access. While he doesn't have a launcher, there were a few standalone grenades. Three are placed on the counter.

"Look these over for now. You can show me you know how to use them when we go out."

"That's fine, I like fire." Born and bred in a brier patch...

The thought is shaken off. Bombs and fire would be fine, genuinely. Not so much fo rother people. "I'm not wasting a grenade on a demonstration. Next time we get attacked, I'll show you."

Vincent does muse that it's fair on the grounds of supply. However.

"I'd rather not find out in a battle." He turns his head to glance at a box of various metal scrap he has stuffed in a corner.

"Hrmph. I'll rig some practice grenades."

Who knows, that'll probably help others learn to use them in the future.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

June Catchall [ OTA ]

Gun shop

Hi, Vincent's a jerk.

Edward is going to assume he's a military officer haha

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Guns

GUN SHOP.

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I want to make a pretty necklace out of them.

There isn't enough! Stay away from those bullets! /o/

NEEEEEED

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