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JackCain · (06-12-2017)

**It's 3am in New York. A black Plymouth Gran Fury pulls into the rear parking lot of a dilapidated looking building on a nondescript street. Rain spits against the windshield as a huge figure dressed in black emerges from the driver's side door. Jack Cain moves to the entrance to the building, which on closer inspection is a gun store. He holds a brown paper bag in one hand. He raps twice on the door and a nervous man peeks out from behind a roller blind**

Whaddya want?

Shut up Curtis. It's me.

Oh Christ Jack, it's 3 o'clock.

Yeah, and it'll be 3:05 by the time your sorry ass lets me in.

**Curtis unbolts the door and lets Cain in**

I could get you fired y'know. Your boss don't know you're sleepin' here since your old lady threw ya out does he?

And there ain't no one else lettin' you in here so you can practice your shootin' is there? So quit whinin'.

Yeah, alright. So we're even. Here...

**Cain hands Curtis the bag**

You couldn't spring for a Big Mac?

I ain't a fuckin' charity. Eat your burger.

I'm gonna waste away.

If you keep complainin' I'll fuckin' shoot you before that happens. Speakin' of which, can you open up the alley?

Yeah, yeah, just let me turn off the cameras. And don't go using any of that heavy artillery - last time I was plasterin' over a .44 round hole in the back wall an hour before we opened.

Not my fault your range is built outta fuckin' straw.

Not my fault you're such a bad shot.

**Cain laughs and pats Curtis on the back**

I'm not gonna ruin your precious range tonight. In fact, I'm not gonna be long, just need a bit of thinkin' time.

**Cain reaches into his coat and pulls out a large silver plated revolver and six large rounds of ammunition**

Jesus, Jack, what you goin' shootin' with that, elephants?

Only gonna need five of them.

You normally only need one.

I got five problems I need to think about.

**Curtis reaches into the bag and bites the burger before heading to a door. He unlocks it and lets Cain through into an old-style shooting gallery. Cain grabs a pair of ear protectors and eye shields, pins a paper target to a clip and cycles the machine at his end of the range, pushing the target all the way down to the far end - around 500 yards**

Let me know when you're done - and next time, get me some ketchup.

Yeah, yeah, ya moanin' old bastard, now leave me in peace.

**Curtis goes and leaves Cain on his own in the dark. Methodically, he lays out the six bullets and the revolver in front of him**

This is the Smith & Wesson XVR 460 Magnum. Forget your Dirty Harry movies. This really is the most powerful handgun in the world. Don't carry the largest cailbre, but the size of round and the speed it can be fired makes it pack more of a punch than anything on God's Green Earth.

But it ain't just the gun - the rounds themselves are the real killers. Each one of these can leave the barrel at anything between 1900 and 2409 feet per second. Means each time one of these little bastards comes chasin' you, they;re gonna catch you, no matter how fast you run.

The VXR 460 carries six in the chamber, just like the six guys who are gonna be in that TV Title match come High Stakes. And each one of 'em is just like one of these rounds. They're all hungry, they're all quick, and they're all lethal.

But just like these boys, you only really need one to get the job done. So let's consider the loadout.

**Cain picks up the first round**

Let's call this little guy Obsidian Air.

**Cain picks up the Magnum and loads the bullet into the chamber**

A little rough around the edges. This one is never the one that gets the job done. The first bullet never kills, not if you're planning to savour the moment. Plus, if you're wanting to get a feel for the weapon, you use a bullet like Obsidian Air. Scruffy, unreliable, a little pathetic. Get the barrel hot by using a round like this. He's a warm up act, a practice round. Obsidian, if you think I'm insultin' you kid, then you ain't heard nothin' yet. You're a fuckin' loser son, beggin' people for jobs and worst all, sympathy. Like we're all supposed to fawn over your "down on my luck, give me some change" shit. Stand on your own two feet. Do things for yourself. If not, I'm gonna knock you the fuck out and leave you in the gutter where you belong.

**Cain picks up the second round**

Let's discuss round number two: Phantom Panzer

**Cain loads this round into the chamber**

Second shot does more damage, but it all depends on where you put it. Stick it in the chest, and it can do some harm, stick it in the leg, and all that will happen is that your target gets a bit of a limp. That's you Phantom: Unfocused. You don't really know where you're aimin', do ya? You talk about power and technical skills, but in the end? You;re a fuckin' clown., You dress like one, look like one and act like one. How the fuck is anyone supposed to take you seriously when you look like Pennywise's nicer brother? I keep hearin' everything about this great "Ghost Tank" guy. I don't really give a shit if you're reincarnation of Richard Nixon - nothin' you've said tells me your focused enough to get this job done.

**Cain picks up the third between forefinger and thumb**

Now to number three: Dredzin

**He clicks the bullet into the third gap in the chamber**

The round that softens you up. The one that if you really are havin' fun with someone, number three is about the time where things start to get real. The third round is where people start to think "oh shit, my time is up", when really, it's only the beginnin' of the end. Dredzin probably thinks he's a bit like this: Big guy, doesn't care what people think, and likes to hurt people. Kinda reminds me of me. Thing is Dredzin, however big you are, you ain't never gonna be the killing blow. You don't have that killer instinct. You talk a good game against cripples in wheelchairs and shitstains like BX3, but what you actually do with your size? You just soften people up, like the third bullet, but you never actually follow it through. And if you think I'm scared of you cos you're bigger than me? I got news for you pal, I've started into the eyes of fuckin monsters, and they all had piss runnin' down their leg when they stared back - I don't see you bein' any different.

**Cain regards the fourth round. He shakes it and the shot inside can be heard rattling round**

And this one? This kinda reminds me of Danny Sex. Or Mr. Sex. Or Danny Fuckin' Penis, whatever the Hell his name is this week.

**He loads the round**

See old Danny is a little like this guy - he's got a few things loose and rollin' around upstairs. I've been listened to his bullshit for the past couple a'days, and none of it makes any sense. He wants to fuck my dad? Good luck on diggin' him up - which would be very painful for you, you cock-obsessed freak. But he sounds like he's got two voices in his head - both of them talkin' absolute crap. His problem is he doesn't know which one to listen to - and that affects his direction. Kinda like this guy in the chamber now. He won't fly straight - too much air in the bullet itself, too lightweight, unsure of it's direction. Just like you Danny. You call me a man who wants to dish out justice, but justice is relative Danny. Justice is what people who had a deep seated sense of right and wrong demand. Justice isn't enough. Punishment - that's the key. You punish someone, they don't just learn their lesson - they become afraid. They get scared. And that's what you and your other voice are gonna be Danny - absolutely fuckin' terrified. You;re the original monster? Problem with that is that there's always a bigger, badder monster, and you're lookin' at him.

**Cain picks up the fifth round**

And finally, the heavy artillery. Thomas Nixon.

**He jams the bullet into the chamber and clicks it closed**

Thomas Nixon is damned close to the real deal. He's the champ, so he automatically knows what it takes to get the job done. I've tangled with him before, so I know what he's all about, and the guy is tough son of a bitch. I don't take him lightly at all. Fact remains though Thomas, you never pinned me, so as far as I'm concerned, you didn't beat me. I'll give you and your fuckin' Lizard people all the credit in the world for bein' a fightin' champ - but like all champs, eventually, you gotta lose. Maybe I took you a little lightly last time - maybe I didnn't understand what you were all about last time, but now? Now I got my bearins'. Now I'm pretty sure I know what I need to do to get past you. Just like this bullet. You can only go so far, before you have to stop.

**Cain picks up the Magnum and aims it at the target. He fires all five rounds. Four travel straight as a die, through the chest of the painted outline on the far wall. The fourth - as predicted - flies off at an angle due to the poor load of powder within**

Then there's the sixth round. The sixth round is for when you don't want to fuck about anymore. The sixth round is for when you don't want to savour it, you don't want to think about it, you don't want to make a mess. You just want something clinical, clean and gets the job done straight away.

The sixth round is me.

**Cain loads the Magnum with the last round, and unleashes a blast that burrows into the painted head of the target in the distance**

There's no way to stop the sixth round. It always gets the job done. Just like me.

Threaded Mode \| Linear Mode Six Rounds in the Chamber
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