(2016-06-20) New Toys
New Toys
Summary: Mon's ready to mass-produce the M0, so she's made another prototype. Who but her other favorite gun-bunny would she give it to?
Date: 2016.06.20
Related: None

<FS3> Monica rolls Machinist: Good Success.
<FS3> Monica rolls Search: Good Success.
<FS3> Monica rolls Gunsmith: Good Success.
<FS3> Monica rolls Chemistry: Good Success.
<FS3> Monica rolls Physics: Success.

<OOC> Monica is in your apartments, reading your pornz.
<OOC> Terry didn't know you were into gun mags. XD
<OOC> Monica says, “Monica? You jest. :)”

Monica knocks on the door. She has her M0 slung over her shoulder. The savvy eye might notice the business end is radically fatter than it was before, much thicker, but the muzzle brake is entirely gone. The barrel is also slightly longer, and has a different finish. That's if you stand and look at her rifle. She's also carrying a package, wrapped in some re-used piece of cardboard and duct tape, and her cartridge pouch seems abnormally stuffed.

Terry is lounging on his bed, enjoying a good book — some post-apocalyptic sci-fi novel by some author — and a bottle of reclaimed water. He's just finished the chapter when Monica knocks, causing him to look up from the book. "Hang on…" He tucks the book into his night-stand and heads over to the door, undoing the handful of locks and opening the door, after verifying the person on the other side via a quick glance through the peephole. "What's crackin'?" He offers. He's decked out in a pair of open-toed beige sandals, blue board shorts, and an off-white shirt that reads "Average response time of law enforcement: 5 minutes." and "Average response time of a .45 round: 2.5 seconds." above and below a stylized handgun.

Monica chuckles. "Hey." She looks Terry over. "You know, I was starting to think you slept in your camo." She holds the package out to Terry. It's about three, three and a half feet long and around nine pounds. "This is for you."

Terry raises an eyebrow, and accepts the package, giving it a gentle shake. Enough to, hopefully, figure out what's inside it without damaging it. "Thanks." He wanders over to a nearby table, sets the package down, and begins to meticulously open it. He's not one of those "OMG PRESENT YAAAAY *tearripshreddestroy*" types. Who knows? He could use the packaging material in some way, somewhere down the road.

There's a rattle that might suggest sling clips against aluminum. Other than that, the package is silent.

Mon stands and watches as Terry unwraps the thing. It's probably a surprise to no-one that it's a second M0 rifle, duplicate to her own as it is now in every respect. Cast aluminum stock, integrated suppressor in the front. Tang and iron sights, but a modern scope mounting rib. "I wanted to make sure my mass production planning would work. So I rebuilt mine, built yours, and I have parts for three more. Lots of fiddly little changes, and the big one is I can make the barrels in about three procedures instead of all day for a couple days at the lathe. Also. I took the brake off and put a suppressor on it instead. Does the job soaking up the gas rocket just as well, and it's less likely to make you deaf.

Terry gives an appreciative whistle, and begins going through the motions, checking the sights and all. Even though the thing's not loaded (he checks), he takes care not to point the "killin'" end anywhere near Monica. "Hot diggity. Can't wait to put this baby through its paces, see how she measures up." He can't help but grin like the proverbial birthday boy about to dig into his cake.

Monica smiles and hands Terry two magazines and a sack of cartridges. "Not much difference with the mags from what you're used to. I reversed the loading lever so it pulls back like normal guns now. There's also an unloader if you have a round not fire." She shows terry the procedure to unload the thing. Remove magazine, pull loading handle back and lock it, open the back cover and yank the unloader. "Kicks about like a 30-06, but that's a powdered steel round making mach three coming out, so there's gobs of energy. Steel's lighter than lead, so your windage is higher, but on a calm day, you can put aimed fire out to about 2000 yards. It's caseless, so watch your breach heat, and if you drop a cartridge, look at it to make sure it's not cracked or damaged before you load it. Cleaning kit and spare ring seals are in the buttstock."

Terry nodnods, his interest piqued. He eyeballs the weapon again, ears open, taking care to note every word. "Copy that.." He responds, continuing to acclimate himself to the weapon, checking things over and all. "Hot damn."

You say, "The black cartridges are solid steel instead of powdered. They do approximately bupkis as far as deforming on impact. That's as close to armor piercing as I can think of without a lot of extra machining steps. Give those a try." Mon stops, having to catch her breath in Jordan Cochran (from Real Genius) fashion "Right. Um. Basically what I'm looking for is for you to try it out, get zeroed with it, and tell me what you think. These things are about the future, assuming we have one. One day we won't be able to scavenge ammunition anymore. With these, we can make it.""

"I'll give it a go, and let you know what I think, yeah. Give me a day or so to get used to it, put some lead down-range, etc.." Terry responds, nodding, stashing the rifle and kit. "Well, hey, thanks. I appreciate you choosing me to be your guinea pig." He notes, with a grin.

Monica chuckles. "I did guinea pig duty. Discovered that my aluminum ring seals failed after about a hundred rounds. I'm lucky the gas jet didn't take my nose off. Timing problems out the wazoo, and of course the brake was leaving my ears ringing any time I fired it without hearing protection. Stuff like that. And then there was cartridge development." Mon rolls her eyes. "You learn a lot of respect for John Moses Browning when you realize how hard… and tedious… all this stuff is." Monica sits on Terry's bed. If she's aware that it might be seen as an intrusion - or an invitation - she doesn't show it. "So I've heard some rumors that basically the Aliens… or the humans doing their bidding… are going to finish the job on the equinox. Bombs go off. Everyone dies. I have an idea of what to do, if I can find enough drone parts. But you're a professional military guy. Any ideas?

"If it were me, I'd evacuate as many folks as possible from the area, set up a buffer zone, and then either try to disarm the bombs, or detonate them on our terms. Assuming we disarm them, I'd take our new-found explosives, turn them sideways, shine them up real nice, and.." Terry catches himself, blinks, and then waves dismissively. "You get the idea."

You say, "And stuff them up that mothership's docking bay, or whatever. That's pretty much what I had in mind with the micro-bomb they took out of that kid."

Terry nodnods. "Yeah…"

Monica wraps her arms around herself. "I wish I understood their technology better. I mean… even if this is all just… stuff that was here, on Earth, and it got used against us because other people believed it was the right thing. I don't know the basics. How drones fly. I've been reading up on superconductors and energy storage, and I have an idea or two how the power cells work… but that's like saying "you mix air and gasoline and add a spark and you get power. Now go build a V8 engine."

Terry rolls his shoulders. "Well, when we find a cooperative alien, perhaps we can ask them to explain things." He offers, absolutely serious. Hey, it's worth a try.

Monica nods. "Yeah… Rumors I hear is there aren't any aliens left. Although you get a big chicken and egg problem without them, so I don't know."

Terry nods again. "Well, we'll just have to see about that."

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