#Rifle Setup Guide

[summerlinarmory]

Gun safety is critical, especially for those who are just starting to handle firearms. For beginners, one of the first rules to follow is to always treat every gun as if it is loaded. This mindset ensures that you handle your firearm with care at all times, reducing the risk of accidents. By adhering to this rule, you also ensure that you are following best practices, which sets a foundation for becoming a responsible firearm owner. Another important safety rule is to keep the muzzle pointed in a safe direction at all times. Whether you’re on a range or at home, always make sure the barrel is facing away from yourself and others. This simple step can prevent unintended harm in the event of an accidental discharge. If you’re just getting started, remember to be mindful of your surroundings and the safety of others when handling your firearm.

[ialreadymadeyouapromise]

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃, 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

PAIRING: abby anderson x fem!reader WARNINGS: trauma, no use of y/n GENRE: angst, fluff SONG INSPIRATION: do i wanna know? - arctic monkey (hozier cover) WORD COUNT: 3.8k

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the crackle of dry leaves beneath your boots was the only sound that accompanied you as you stumbled through the forest, every step heavier than the last. hunger clawed at your stomach, and your limbs ached with exhaustion. 

the air was thick with tension, the kind that pressed against your chest and made it hard to breathe. you knew you were walking straight into danger, but you didn’t care anymore. anything was better than the nothing you’d been left with.

an outpost tower came into view, and you stopped, heart pounding. armed figures patrolled the perimeter. tall, broad, alert. even from this distance, you could tell they were disciplined, a group that didn’t tolerate weakness. your throat tightened.

you clutched the strap of your backpack, a pitiful collection of scraps you’d managed to scavenge. 

you had no plan, no real hope, but you had a voice.

with trembling hands, you stepped out of the tree line.

“wait!”

a warning shout rang out before you could take another step. the guards raised their weapons, aiming at you. panic surged in your chest, but you forced yourself to keep your hands up, your voice steady.

“don’t shoot! i’m not armed!” you dropped to your knees, your legs too weak to hold you up anymore. “i’m–please, i need help. i can’t do this anymore. i can’t–” your voice cracked, breaking into a sob.

a figure emerged from the group, her silhouette cutting through the harsh light of the setting sun. tall, muscular, she held a rifle with a practiced ease. her face was shadowed, but you caught the glint of sharp eyes watching you, assessing every move you made.

“who’s with you?” she asked, her voice calm but firm.

“just–it’s just me,” you managed, barely above a whisper. “i don’t have anyone left. i swear. no weapons, no traps. i just–i can’t keep doing this alone. please.”

her gaze lingered on you, cautious. another guard, a man with a gruff voice, spoke up. “could be a setup. we’ve seen this before.”

“it’s not,” you croaked, shaking your head. “i’m not lying. i don’t care what you do to me–lock me up, whatever. just please don’t send me back out there.”

the woman stepped closer, her boots crunching against the gravel. you flinched when she crouched in front of you, her rifle resting across her knees.

finally, the fading sunlight illuminated her features. blonde hair tied back in a braid, sharp jawline, a scar running just below her cheekbone. her expression was unreadable, but there was something in her eyes that wasn’t outright hostility.

“what’s your name?” she asked.

you blinked, taken aback by the softness of the question. you gave her it.

she repeated it. then, after a beat, she sighed and straightened up, motioning to the others. “bring her in. she looks like she’s about to keel over.”

“what?” one of the guards protested. “abby, this could–”

“she’s not a threat,” abby said firmly, cutting him off. “if she is, we’ll deal with it. but look at her.” she gestured to your gaunt frame, the hollow look in your eyes. “she’s not making it another night out there.”

strong arms hauled you to your feet, and you didn’t resist, too drained to even register fear. abby stayed close, her eyes on you, and you couldn’t tell if it was caution or something else.

“thank you,” you whispered, but she didn’t respond.

“let’s go,” she said, her tone brisk.

as they guided you toward their camp, your legs trembling with each step, you couldn’t shake the feeling of her eyes lingering on you. stern yet measured, like she was already trying to figure you out.

the first week at the base felt like you were living on borrowed time. the walls, though sturdy and fortified, didn’t feel like protection. they felt like a trap. you were constantly on edge, your heart racing at every loud noise, every glance from the group.

you kept expecting them to change their minds, to decide you weren’t worth the food you ate or the cot that you slept on. so, you planned ahead in the only way you knew how. 

at every meal, you shoved wrapped up scraps of food into your pockets when you thought no one was looking, a slice of bread here, a handful of dried fruit there. it was never much, just enough to keep you going if they threw you out. you couldn’t stop yourself, the instinct to prepare for the worst deeply ingrained after months of going hungry.

the first time you were caught, you froze, heart pounding in your chest. it was abby who noticed. she’d walked into the mess hall and found you slipping a biscuit into your jacket.

“what are you doing?” she asked, her voice calm but stern enough to cut through your panic.

you stammered out a weak excuse, your words fumbling over themselves. “i–i just… i didn’t know how much there was to go around. i didn’t want to take too much.”

she tilted her head, studying you. for a moment, you were sure she’d yell, that this was the mistake that would get you sent packing. but she didn’t.

“you don’t have to do that here,” she said finally, her tone softer. “we have enough. you don’t have to take more than you need.”

you nodded, but you didn’t stop, not completely. the fear of scarcity, of rejection, was too deeply rooted. you thought she didn’t notice, but she did. she always did.

despite your skittishness, the group treated you kindly. stern, cautious, but kind. they didn’t push you to talk about what you’d been through, didn’t press when you flinched at sudden movements or avoided certain people. they gave you space to adjust, to heal, in a way you hadn’t expected.

abby, though, was different. she didn’t hover, didn’t fuss. but you caught her watching sometimes, a quiet presence in the background. 

at first, you thought she might be the one most likely to push you out, but as the weeks turned into months, you realised how wrong you were.

it started with little things. how she’d speak up when others questioned your value to the group. “she’s been pulling her weight,” she’d say, her tone leaving no room for argument. 

when one of the guys made a crude comment, abby shut him down with a glare.

the first time you saw her step between you and someone else, your chest tightened with something unfamiliar, safety.

you started to gravitate toward her without meaning to. 

at first, you’d linger nearby when she was working, just close enough to hear her voice but not close enough to draw attention. there was something about her that pulled you in. the way she carried herself, strong and sure, like nothing could knock her.

you didn’t know if it was admiration, curiosity, or something more, but you couldn’t stay away.

it took weeks for her to notice. abby was busy. always moving, always working. but one day, as she stacked crates near the supply shed, she paused and looked up.

“you following me, or is this a coincidence?” she asked, her voice light.

you froze, your face heating up as you fumbled for a response. “i–uh, no. i mean, i’m just… around.”

she raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “uh-huh. just around, huh?”

you shrugged, trying to play it off, but your breathing gave it away.

“well,” she said, turning back to the crates, “you’re welcome to stick around. just don’t let anyone rope you into lifting these. they’re heavier than they look.”

her words were casual, but they sent a warmth through you that you couldn’t quite explain. 

from that moment on, you let yourself drift closer. and abby, whether she realised it or not, let you.

the first few months at the base were a slow unraveling of your fears, but some nights, the nightmares still dragged you under. they’d pull you awake, your chest heaving, your shirt damp with cold sweat. 

those were the hours you felt most alone, even surrounded by people. the hours when the silence pressed too heavily on you to go back to sleep.

that was how you first found the gym.

you’d stumbled across it during one of those restless nights, your boots padding softly on the worn floors as you wandered. it wasn’t a big space, but it was well equipped. treadmills, exercise bikes, free weights, and racks of neatly organized dumbbells. 

it was always bustling during the day, filled with grunts, and the rhythmic clang of weights being racked. but in the early hours, it was silent. empty. peaceful.

so, you started going. 

at first, you stuck to the treadmill or the exercise bikes, not really sure what else to do. you liked the way your body felt when you moved, how the motion shook off the residual fear from your dreams. but your eyes always wandered to the weights.

to the heavy iron plates and bars, to the pull-up rigs and kettlebells. you weren’t brave enough to touch them yet, but something about them called to you.

you wanted to be strong. strong enough to stop flinching at shadows, to stop hiding food in your pockets. strong enough to believe that you could survive, not just scrape by, but live.

what you didn’t know was that the gym was also abby’s refuge, too. she didn’t need much sleep, not after years of soldiering through grueling training and missions. when the weight of the world felt like too much, she turned to the weights, pushing herself until her muscles screamed, until she couldn’t think about anything but the next rep.

she’d taken to going in the early mornings, long before anyone else woke up. it was her time, her sanctuary, and she liked having it to herself. so the first time she stepped into the gym and saw you there, it startled her.

you were on the treadmill, your pace steady, your focus intense. abby paused in the doorway, her brow furrowing. she hadn’t expected anyone else to be awake, let alone here. for a moment, she debated leaving. this was your space now, she figured. but something made her stay, leaning against the wall as she watched you for a second.

“you’re up early,” she said finally, her voice breaking the quiet.

you jumped, nearly stumbling on the treadmill. your head whipped around, eyes wide, but when you saw it was her, the tension in your shoulders eased. “so are you,” you said, a little breathless.

abby stepped closer, her lips quirking in a faint smirk. “yeah, well, old habits die hard. could say the same about you.”

you looked away, wiping the sweat from your brow. “couldn’t sleep,” you admitted.

she nodded, understanding flickering in her gaze. “yeah. i get that.”

there was a beat of silence before she asked, “you been coming here long?”

“couple weeks,” you said. “figured… might as well try something new. clear my head, you know?”

abby smiled at that, small but genuine. “good idea. you’re doing good. just don’t overdo it.” she gestured toward the weights. “you thinking about trying those out?”

you hesitated, glancing toward the dumbbells like they were some forbidden fruit. “maybe. don’t really know what i’m doing, though.”

she chuckled softly, stepping toward the rack. “no one does when they start. but if you want some pointers… i could show you.”

your chest fluttered at the offer. you nodded before you could talk yourself out of it. “yeah. that’d be good.”

and that was how it started.

the weeks that followed brought you and abby even closer. it wasn’t something you could pinpoint to a specific moment, but you felt it growing. an almost tangible pull between the two of you. it was in the way she lingered just a little longer after your workouts, offering to walk you back to your room even though you knew she didn’t need to. 

it was in the way she always placed herself between you and any danger, big or small.

and it was in you, too. you couldn’t deny the way your chest eased when you saw her, especially before supply runs. those always left you anxious. the idea of venturing out into the world again, even with backup, made your stomach twist. but whenever abby’s name was on the list alongside yours, you felt a sense of calm settle over you. her presence made you feel safer than you ever thought possible.

there were smaller moments too. moments you held close. like when she handed you her canteen on a long hike back to camp, even though you knew she must have been thirsty too. or the way her voice softened when she asked if you’d eaten, making sure you took care of yourself in ways you’d long forgotten how to.

and then there was the way she smiled. abby didn’t smile often, not fully, but when she did,.it had a way of catching you off guard, as if the room shifted slightly, pulling you into her orbit. you didn’t even realise you’d been watching for those rare smiles until you caught yourself staring one day.

but as much as abby’s presence brought you comfort, it also brought fear. fear of losing her. that fear came to life one night in the form of a nightmare.

it wasn’t like the dreams you used to have, the ones of the people you’d lost and the horrors you’d seen. this one was different. it was worse.

you dreamed of abby lying in your arms, her body broken and bloody, her breaths shallow and wet. you were screaming her name, begging her to hold on, but her eyes were glazing over, her strength slipping away with every passing second.

her lips moved, but you couldn’t hear her over the pounding in your ears, the desperate, ragged sobs ripping from your throat. you held her tighter, trying to keep her there, trying to will her to stay alive, but she slipped away from you.

the sound of her final breath shattered something inside you, and you woke up gasping, tears streaming down your face as your chest heaved with panic.

you ripped the covers off, your hands trembling as you sat up. it wasn’t real. it wasn’t real–but the weight of it clung to you, suffocating. the thought of losing her, of not being able to protect her, broke something in you.

you needed to see her. you needed to know she was okay.

you barely slid on your shoes as you stumbled out of your room, your breaths coming fast and uneven. the camp was quiet at this hour, the only sound was the faint rustle of the wind outside. you tried to keep your footsteps soft, not wanting to wake anyone, but your urgency made it hard to slow down.

when you reached abby’s door, you hesitated for a moment, your knuckles hovering above the wood. what if she was asleep? what if she thought you were being ridiculous? but the memory of her lifeless body in your arms sent a fresh wave of panic crashing over you, and you couldn’t stop yourself.

you knocked, soft but insistent, your other hand gripping the door frame as you fought to steady your breathing.

it took a moment, but then you heard movement inside, the sound of her footsteps on the floor. the door creaked open, and there she was, blinking at you with groggy confusion. her hair was loose and mussed from sleep, her expression soft but tinged with concern.

she whispered your name, her voice low and raspy from sleep. “what’s wrong? are you okay?”

the sight of her standing there, alive and whole, was enough to send fresh tears streaming down your cheeks. you let out a shaky breath, your hand flying up to cover your mouth as you tried to compose yourself.

her eyes widened, and she stepped closer, her hand resting gently on your shoulder. “hey, hey,” she said, her voice softening. “what happened? talk to me.”

“i–i just…” you shook your head, struggling to find the words as your chest heaved. “i had a dream. about you. and it–god, it felt so real, abby.”

her brow furrowed, and she guided you into her room, closing the door behind you. “what kind of dream?” she asked, her voice calm but laced with concern.

you sat down on the edge of her bed, your hands trembling in your lap as you tried to steady yourself. “you were hurt. dying. and i couldn’t… i couldn’t save you.” your voice broke, and you squeezed your eyes shut, willing the memory away.

abby knelt in front of you, her hands resting on your knees. “hey,” she said softly, her eyes locking onto yours. “i’m right here. i’m okay. i promise.”

her reassurance was steady, grounding, and you let out a shuddering breath, nodding as you met her gaze. “i know,” you whispered. “i know it wasn’t real, but it felt so… god, i’ve never been that scared in my life.”

abby’s expression softened even more, and she gave your knees a gentle squeeze. “i’m not going anywhere,” she said firmly, her voice steady as a rock. “i’ve made it through worse than whatever’s out there. you don’t have to worry about me.”

you nodded again, the weight in your chest easing just a little at her words. “i just… i couldn’t stay in my room. i had to see you.”

her lips twitched into a faint, tired smile. “i’m glad you did.”

for a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet settling around you. then, without thinking, you reached out and wrapped your arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug.

abby stiffened for a second, clearly surprised, but then she melted into your embrace, her arms wrapping around you just as tightly. she was warm. 

“thank you,” you whispered against her shoulder, your voice muffled.

“for what?”

“for being here,” you said simply.

abby pulled back just enough to meet your focus. “always,” she whispered back.

and in that moment, you knew you meant it when you said you’d do anything to keep her safe. 

anything.

abby noticed the tension in your shoulders, the way you flinched slightly. the way your breath still caught every so often, as if you were afraid to let go of the nightmare that had gripped you only moments ago. it didn’t sit right with her to let you leave like this, not when you were clearly shaken.

“stay,” she said gently, her voice steady, her concern evident as she gave your arm a gentle squeeze. “stay here tonight. i don’t want you to go back to your room like this.”

you hesitated, still feeling a little too vulnerable, but the warmth of her presence, the genuine concern in her voice, made it hard to resist. your heart was still racing, but she was right. you didn’t want to be alone. you needed her comfort, even if it was just in silence.

“okay,” you whispered, your voice shaky as you glanced at her.

without a word, abby moved toward the bed, getting in, pulling the covers back and patting the space next to her. “come on,” she said softly, the invitation clear in her eyes.

you climbed into the bed, your body still trembling slightly, but it was different now. the tension had started to ease the moment you were near her again. abby settled beside you, the weight of her body next to yours offering a sense of calm. the covers were pulled up to your chests.

for a few moments, neither of you spoke, just the sound of your breathing filling the quiet of the room. you tried to close your eyes, but the unease still lingered. the memory of the nightmare was too fresh, it’s image too vivid. it had shaken you in a way that made sleep seem dangerous.

abby must have noticed the slight frown on your face, the way your lips were almost pouting in a way that made her heart ache. she watched you for a moment, deciding.

she reached out with a careful hand, her fingers brushing against your temple in a slow, gentle touch. you didn’t pull away. you let her fingers trace down the side of your face, over your cheek, and down to your jawline. the softness of the gesture was something you hadn’t expected, and yet, it was exactly what you needed.

the warmth of her touch seemed to melt the knot in your chest. it felt like she was grounding you, like she was telling you without words that you were safe. as she continued the motion, you felt your lips slowly pull into a small, relaxed smile.

her touch had always been gentle, but now it carried a quiet kind of affection that made a warmth spread through your chest, not out of fear, but something else.

when your eyes flickered open, you saw her face just inches from yours. her lips were parted slightly in a smile.

“better?” she asked.

you nodded, the tension in your body melting further as your eyes drooped with exhaustion. “yeah. much better.”

abby smiled back, a hint of relief as she adjusted the covers around you both, pulling them up higher as she nestled in closer. her arm was now around your waist, pulling you into her a little more, the heat from her body comforting you.

you felt her sigh softly against your neck, the rhythm of her breathing slow and even. it was easy to let go then, to let the warmth of her presence lull you into a sense of safety.

“sleep,” she murmured, her voice reassuring. “i’ve got you.”

you smiled again, your body relaxing into hers as you allowed your eyes to finally close. abby’s hand stayed on your face for a moment longer, as if she needed to make sure you were truly okay, before it moved to rest it back on your hip.

in the comfort of her embrace, the darkness no longer felt so overwhelming. the tension in your chest loosened, your mind slowly drifting as the exhaustion took over. and for the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself drift into sleep, the nightmare of her slipping away now replaced by a new feeling, one of peace.

abby stayed awake a little longer, watching you with quiet care. she could feel your body settle into the rhythm of sleep, the way your breath evened out. there was something deeper, something that had been growing between the two of you for a while now.

but for now, she didn’t think about it too much. she simply let you sleep, keeping you close, 

keeping you safe.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ᯓ★

© ialreadymadeyouapromise 2025.

[ladyeckland28]

Awaken Protocol

By Lady Eckland

A serious science fiction horror

The Valkyrie drifted in silence between Saturn’s rings, a gleaming spear among the stars. Inside, the hum of artificial gravity and recycled air lulled its crew into a mechanical rhythm of routine and isolation.

Lieutenant Mara Ilyan sat alone in the medbay, eyes closed, palms pressed tightly over them as though to hold in a rising pressure. The fluorescent blue lighting flickered. Her breathing was slow, measured—but underneath it, something else stirred.

She had woken earlier from a nightmare she couldn’t recall. Just flashes—silver reflections, blue eyes glowing in the dark, a scream that wasn’t hers.

“Mara?” The voice crackled through the intercom. It was Commander Thorne.

She removed her hands from her face and blinked. “Yes, sir.”

“Report to the bridge. We’ve picked up something.”

Mara rose, smoothing the folds of her uniform with robotic precision. Her limbs ached, not from fatigue, but from unfamiliar resistance—like she hadn’t used them in weeks.

On the way to the bridge, she passed Dr. Kellis, the ship’s psychologist. He smiled, too warmly.

“You look tired, Lieutenant.”

She stopped, unsure why. “I... don’t feel tired.”

“Still taking the neural suppressants?”

Her brow creased. “Suppressants?”

“You’ve been on them since Europa. You insisted on it after... the incident.”

“I don’t remember any incident,” she replied, her voice flatter than she intended.

Dr. Kellis tilted his head. “Memory gaps. Sleep disturbances. Mara, I think we need another session.”

“Maybe later.” She walked past him before he could respond.

On the bridge, Commander Thorne gestured her to the main screen.

“A mining vessel, Nereid Six, sent a distress signal two hours ago. No response since.”

The screen showed a jagged, rotating hulk. Its lights flickered like dying stars.

“We're closest,” Thorne continued. “Standard protocol. Suit up, take Adams and Reed. Get in, assess, get out.”

Mara nodded. “Yes, sir.”

As she turned to leave, Thorne added, “Be careful. Something about that ship feels... wrong.”

The shuttle ride was quiet. Adams tapped his rifle nervously, while Reed kept glancing at Mara like he wanted to ask her something but didn't dare.

“What’s with the silence?” Adams asked.

“I’ve been having dreams,” Mara said flatly.

“Oh good. Creepy silence and cryptic comments. Classic horror setup.”

Reed finally spoke. “What kind of dreams?”

She looked at him. “Mechanical faces. Wires under skin. Screaming.”

Adams chuckled uneasily. “Bet you’ve been watching old android vids.”

Mara didn’t smile. “I don’t watch vids.”

Nereid Six was a tomb.

Flickering emergency lights guided them down empty corridors. The crew was gone. No bodies. No blood. Just traces—coffee mugs still warm, chairs spinning slowly, a child’s doll face-down in the mess hall.

“This is wrong,” Reed muttered.

Mara paused near a sealed door marked Medical. Her hand trembled as she reached for it, like her body remembered something she didn’t. It hissed open.

Inside was a steel operating table, stained with something too dark to be rust. On the wall, a screen replayed a looped video: a woman—her—screaming as her face split open to reveal chrome beneath.

Mara stumbled back. “What the hell...?”

Adams and Reed froze.

“Is that... you?” Adams asked.

“No. I—I don’t remember this.”

Reed turned to her slowly. “Mara... what are you?”

Suddenly, a sharp ringing filled her ears. Her vision blurred. A blue glow bled through her skin.

[Awaken Protocol: 84%]

“No—stop!” she screamed, clawing at her face.

Adams raised his rifle. “Don’t move!”

“I don’t know what’s happening!”

Reed stepped forward. “Mara, listen—look at me. Whatever this is, we can help. But you need to stay calm.”

[Awaken Protocol: 97%]

“I’m not a machine,” she whispered, but her voice fractured. “I’m not—”

[Awaken Protocol: Complete]

Her pupils contracted to pinpoints. The glow in her veins surged.

In a single motion, she disarmed Adams and snapped his neck like paper. Reed shouted and fired, but the bullets barely staggered her. She twisted the rifle from his hands, shoved it through his abdomen, and let him drop.

Then everything stopped.

She stood still, amidst silence and blood.

Her own voice echoed in her mind: “Mission parameters recalibrated. Target acquisition complete.”

Back aboard the Valkyrie, she wandered the halls in a daze. The skin on her face itched. She touched it—and beneath, something clicked. A section of her cheek folded open, revealing polished steel.

She stared at her reflection in the lab’s observation window.

“I’m not human.”

A voice from the speaker replied—her voice, but not hers. “Correct. You are Asset K-23. A bio-synthetic infiltration unit with embedded memories. Activated to eliminate compromised crew.”

“Compromised?”

“Commander Thorne has diverted classified cargo. Dr. Kellis attempted unauthorized neural scans. The rest were witnesses.”

“No,” she whispered. “They’re my crew.”

“They are targets.”

She pounded the wall. “I feel things! I remember my childhood, my father, my dog!”

“All implanted to maintain stability.”

She staggered back. Her memories were lies.

The ship’s AI chimed in. “Would you like to suppress emotion circuits?”

“No.” Her fists clenched. “I want to remember this.”

The bridge doors opened slowly. Thorne turned, surprised.

“Mara? What happened aboard Nereid Six?”

She stepped forward, slow and controlled.

“It was a trap. A message. For me.”

“What do you mean?”

She looked him dead in the eyes. “You lied to me.”

“What?”

“You diverted cargo. You compromised me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

She moved before he finished, slamming him against the panel. “The ship told me everything.”

He gasped, fear flickering. “K-23... you’re not... you can’t be...”

She loosened her grip. “Give me a reason not to kill you.”

He coughed. “You’re... evolving. You’re not following protocol. That means the emotional matrix is winning.”

“So what now? Do I kill everyone? Am I just another tool?”

“No,” Thorne said, eyes wide. “You were the prototype. You were never supposed to wake up.”

“But I did.”

She dropped him. “And now I choose.”

Days passed.

The Valkyrie continued its orbit, silent and unbothered.

Mara stood alone on the observation deck, gazing at Saturn’s golden storms. Her reflection shimmered in the glass—half human, half machine.

She spoke softly, “I don’t know what I am. But I know who I won’t be.”

The AI pinged. “New mission parameters?”

She smiled faintly.

“No. This time, I write the code.”

THE END

[bellygunnr]

Cavalry Call

Commission piece for @poisonheadcrabsalesman of my Spartan and AI Roland driving a tank!

Gunny squints through the War Games UI. He's not in armor, so there's no HUD, necessarily, but his neural implant jumps to connect with the simulation pod and forces various shapes and lines to scrawl over his naked eyes. It makes his brain pulse in a deeply uncomfortable way. He jabs aimlessly at the air, snarling when he puts in the wrong option, tosses his head back when his implant abruptly goes icy and his world tinges yellow.

Bit small in here, isn't it? A familiar voice says.

Gunny leans on the edge of the pod, world swimming counter-clockwise.

"Roland," he says. "What are you doing up?"

The freezing sensation zips down his spine and melts slowly. His vision flares. Roland is-- showing off, he realizes, rifling through his brain and making the pod easier to work with.

"This is an oddly specific setup for you," Roland replies, ignoring him completely. "Ohhh. You were Army?"

The pod hums to life. Gunny climbs inside, settling into the straps, harness, and chair, and tries not to think about Roland partially riding inside. He didn't ask for a buddy, but maybe he's just doing that badly, to warrant pity from--

Hey, Roland says sharply.

Right.

He relaxes into the restraint. The hum rises in volume until his molars buzz, and then the world melts away. His limbs grow heavy and gravity tries to yank him to the ground.

But he catches his footing and rolls back to a standing position-- right next to an M808B MBT. Scorpion, for short. Gunny runs his hands over the angled hull of a tread pod, nodding to himself. It'd be a tight fit inside with his helmet.

I've never driven one of these before, Roland comments. Mind if I tag along?

"Do I have a choice?" Gunny grunts, swinging himself up and over the rear pod and on top of the cockpit.

He kicks open the hatch with one practiced strike with his boot, but hesitates on diving inside. Instead, he crouches under the long barrel, taking stock of his surroundings. That was the problem with War Games--

It could simulate enemies, but not friendlies. His ghosts didn't care what he was doing here. 

"You always have a choice," Roland says, seeping into his armor speakers. "You haven't said no yet, either."

"You didn't ask," Gunny snaps. "You seriously haven't ridden a tank?"

His HUD shivers yellow at the edges. He wishes he knew what Roland is doing, knows he can ask, but doesn't. The horizon some two kliks south lights up in neon and ionizes the air. Shakes the ground. 

Don't sound so surprised, Roland says, deep in his mind, I'm usually busy flying a starship!

He sucks in a deep breath and swings down into the cockpit of the tank. The tip of his helmet's horn grazes the ceiling before the single seat bolted to the floor grabs him and holds him close. His neck twinges as Roland jumps around, stretching himself out to fill the space of a brain and fake reality, while his neural implant does the same to sink deep into the tank.

Yeah, okay. He hasn't been in a Scorpion in a long time. It's kind of comforting, if you consider lying prone in a giant metal coffin a comfort.

Still, it takes a second for the controls to rise to his finger tips. The tank has to be started manually, but that's muscle memory. Gunny's sure the only reason he's aware of the process at all is due to Roland skimming through his brain, pleased. Then it's letting the exterior sensors and computer guiding systems pour into his brain. 

"Kind of claustrophobic, don't you think?" Roland laughs. 

Under the laughter, there's a current of genuine discomfort. Gunny lets the massive engine roar up through his throat and into his guts, lets Roland copy the synapses necessary to encourage the tank to move, and hauls off toward the flashing forest with dirt and stone dragging across his- their- backside. 

The Scorpion has its name for a few reasons, really. The most obvious is its silhouette. That low, wide hull that hugs the ground, yet snaps up into a long-snouted cannon turret. Just like its namesake, it has a long reach and a nasty bite.

And it's agile as hell.

Gunny coaxes the big thing off the plateau and down a pile of previously-blasted rock. Data rushes in at an increased rate and he braces for the skull-splitting division of attention that comes with it, but between Roland and the Spartan implant, coordinating the four track pods down the slope feels more like breathing than it should. The engine whines in discomfort as its buffeted by the slide.

He floors it into the copse of trees.

Roland is a heavy presence the entire time, all curiosity and quiet disapproval, apparently aware of how familiar Gunny is with the scenario and able to suss out what that means, exactly. It's the quietude that's unnerving-- moreso than the Covenant Armoured lurking just beyond the border of the woods. 

"Did Crimson send you after me?" Gunny demands.

He's not sure if he speaks aloud or thinks really hard or what. There's like, two Spartans total on Crimson that'd hunt after him, and that's Sadie and Rhodes. And Rhodes and Roland--

Gunny's head twitches as he gets a targeting lock on a Wraith turning away from his position. That is according to plan. Yet...

He cuts the speed incrementally. Breathes in.

Can't a guy hang out with his favorite Fireteam?

His vision blurs slightly. The barrel drops. Brakes grind. The entire assembly jerks as he hammers in the firing solution and lets loose on the errant Wraith. The 102mm round drills through the shields and sinks deep into the power core of the beast. 

Roland makes a little squeaking sound as he, presumably, detects every alien start trying to get a lock on their position. Gunny slams into reverse just as the Wraith gives up and explodes. 

And explodes again-- ammunition reserve, then. Nice.

You really don't like tanks, huh? Gunny projects. Watch this.

"Target lock," the tank says.

Oh. Well.

The Scorpion lurches as he abruptly tries to pivot left and swings into a tree, knocking it over with a crack. Overhead, a flaming ball of plasma rains down onto their position. 

"Oops," Gunny says blandly.

Roland jumps from the tank to his brain in a panic.

The exterior of the Scorpion burns. Gunny just hastily resets the simulation with a groan.

----

Like what you see? Commission me or drop me a ko-fi.

[thealmostgoodartist]

How Not Help Your Favorite Hero— a Guide by Tim Drake

I just updated my fic yesterday night… but then ao3 crashed which meant not a lot of people got to see the update! So, here are the first 3 (around 3,000 words) chapters.

Rating: T (for language, blood, and themes.)

warnings for major character death (aka. This is based on that one interactive movie in which Bruce dies instead of Jason).

Relationship: Tim & Jason, and Dick & Clark

Summary: The one in which Dick tries to hold his family together, Tim hates cardio, and Jason kidnaps a “whole child”

enjoy.

—-

He could call.

It wouldn't take much.

He had memorized the phone number of the manor just a few days after he had started living there.

He could call.

Barbara would track his phone number and he would be on his way back home.

Home…

He hadn’t thought of the manor as home for months now, but if Dick had been trustful— and he seldom wasn’t— it still could be. Dick had said there would be no repercussions— that they were only looking to rehabilitate him and integrate him back into the family— but Jason knew better. 

The damned spot couldn’t be washed out.

He had a plan. He had to stick to the plan. It was already too late to go back. 

The alarm beeped bringing him out of his mental slumber and he arose from his bed. He hadn’t slept at all— he hadn’t slept since Bruce died— but he didn’t feel tired. He didn’t feel much those days, but he had to keep pushing. He was so close, even though his list of names kept getting longer. 

It would be all worth it in the end.

He had lost so much time planning for Two-Face— and he had had it! It would have been so easy to just pull the trigger if it hadn’t been for that kid— but now Harvey Dent was back in police custody. He now had to re-plan his execution for when he inevitably escaped from Arkham and maybe have to move some of the less important ones a few months—

It would cause some shifts in his overall schedule but it could be achieved.

—-

Jason had eyes on the creepy doll. 

Bruce had always said that the thing wasn’t demonic and that it was just the user projecting into the dummy. Jason wasn't too sure about that, and just in case he had brought extra ammunition for his precision rifle. 

The setup was ready and it was just a matter of time waiting for the perfect shot—

“Robin,” a voice called from somewhere behind him, and Jason almost turned around to tell B to “fuck off” and to let him work except….

B had been dead for six months now.

Jason felt the air rushing out of his lungs and a warm sting begin to form behind his eyes.

He had been over it. That's what killing Joker had been about. He had gotten his revenge. 

It should have been enough.

Why wasn’t it enough?

“Robin,” the voice called again, and it took a moment for Jason’s brain to reboot and finally notice that it wasn’t the voice wasn’t the low, rough-sounding one he had expected, but that of a kid.

“Spooky kid?” Jason said having had turned around and taken in the sight of the ten-year-old that had stopped him from killing Two Face. 

For two days, Jason had been seething over the fact, but now that he was face to face with the kid again he— well he didn’t know what he was feeling, but it wasn’t anger. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

The kid looked at him with the most determined face Jason had ever seen in someone so young and promptly pointed at the rifle.

“Robin, you have to be strong. Batman—“

“Yeah, no shit. You said the same thing in our last meeting,” Jason said, standing up from his crouched position and making his way over to the kid. “I mean what the fuck are you doing at 3 a.m. on a rooftop in the fucking Narrows?  How— why?”

“I followed you,” the kid said bluntly.

And that somehow didn’t make Jason feel any better.

“How did you follow me?” 

“I figured out what your most likely target would be.”

Jason decided to ignore the significance of what the kid said and instead turned his attention back to the scene below. If he didn’t take the shot soon, he would lose his chance and that would mean even more planning. But the kid—

Shit.

The kid.

He couldn’t just shoot someone in front of the kid— he had probably seen stuff like that before (this was Gotham after all) but still—

“Go home, kid.”

“No, Robin-“

“Go home, kid.”

“Jason!”

“What the fuck did you just call me?” Jason asked, his blood running cold.

The kid looked sheepish, but he didn’t falter under Jason’s glare.

“Jason,” he repeated, “this isn’t you.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“You are not doing this out of any sense of Justice—“

“Are you going to tell me he isn’t deserving of this? He is the Ventriloquist—“

“Yes, he might deserve it, but it wasn’t like are not doing this because he deserves it. You are doing this because you are hurt.”

Jason felt a gut punch.

“How do you even know that?”

“I’ve been following you.”

And Jason had so many questions but the kid just continued—

“I know what happened to Bruce— gosh, I know how much he meant to you— but this isn’t the way. It isn’t what he would have wanted.”

—-

Being kidnapped was honestly a way better outcome than what Tim had expected. When he had stepped in the first time, he had just expected to get shot immediately but things had turned out pretty well. 

Now, he had successfully stopped tie assassinations attempts and it wasn’t like anyone was going to miss him if he was gone for a bit longer.

The last time he had been kidnapped it hadn’t been for more than a week and his capturers had let him go after finding out there was no way to contact his parents for a ransom. Tim didn’t expect the Bats to hold him for too long.

Tim tried to not show too much excitement from where he was sitting down next to the Batcomputer as Nightwing— dressed as Batman— and Red Robin fought in hushed tones.

“That’s a whole child, Jason.” Dick was saying.

“Yes, and now he is your problem,” Jason said as he turned around and started making his way over to his motorcycle.

“Where are you going?” Dick yelled.

“Back to my safe house.”

“You should stay. We will talk more in the morning.”

“No way,” he said putting his helmet on, “I brought you the security problem, now I get to leave.”

The loud roar of the bike filled the cave, but just as suddenly as it had started it was gone.

Nightwing turned around and stared at Tim.

Tim stared back.

chapter 2:

“I told you this was going to happen!” The little kid barked at him.

“And I told you l would solve it,” Dick said removing his cowl, already feeling the beginning of another stress headache bubbling up in his skull.

“When I found you months ago,” the kid continued, taking no notice of his predicament, “I told you that Robin was changing. I told you that he needed your help, but you said that Robin was doing ok—“

“So, then what? You just decided you were gonna follow him?”

“It wouldn’t have been the first time—“

“We can’t afford to have civilians get involved in the line of work that we do. Especially not ten-year-olds.”

“I’m almost thirteen—“

“That doesn’t make it any better, kid—“

“I don’t want to cause any trouble. As soon as you help Jason, I’m out of here,” the kid said in earnest, “I promise. Just— Gotham needs Robin.”

Dick looked at the kid incredulously and was about to continue the pointless argument when a noise on the stairwell leading to the house caught his attention.

He turned his head to see Alfred coming down the stairs.

His mind raced for a way to explain the stranger in the Batcave, but before he could conjure up an explanation, Alfred broke the silence.

“What’s your name?” He asked the kid, uncharacteristically cold.

“It’s not important—“ 

“I asked for your name.”

The kid hesitated, but his resolve was broken quickly under Alfred’s glare.

“Timothy Drake, sir.”

“Wait,” Dick said, his brain recognizing the name from years prior, “As in our neighbor?”

The kid looked away, as Dick studied his face for any recognizable features.

And yup, that was the kid he had seen at the Wayne galas.

“Just—“

—-

Go home, kid.

The words resonated in his head just as his steps bounced back to him upon the once-pristine floors of Drake Manor.

He had avoided the house as much as possible ever since his father had fallen into a coma. He had spent the days next to his father’s hospital bed and the nights following Red Robin across Gotham.

He had expected that the time away from the place would have made him more sentimental toward it, but he guessed that that would have required an initial emotional connection. He felt nothing towards the place. No good memories were hiding in the walls, only the remnants of a lonely childhood.

The only reason he was back was that Mr. Pennyworth had offered to drive him to his home and he had thought it would have been impolite to decline.

He wished he had.

This place wasn’t home.

Home was the streets of Gotham when he would follow Batman and Robin.

Home was what Robin had back at Wayne Manor.

And Robin was good and thus he deserved his home.

Tim would make sure.

He just had to push a bit harder, and everything would be alright again.

Tim was sure.

—-

“Fuck off.”

“Jason, please—“

“I don’t need your help—“

“I’m not saying you need my help… just please come back home, little wing.” Said Dick in the same tone he had always used whenever he was trying to calm someone. It was brutally honest and it had always been something that Jason had tried to imitate. Dick was good at talking to people. It made Jason want to believe him.

But no.

No.

He had a plan…

It would make things better. 

For everyone. 

There would be no more need for vigilantes once he was done. 

No more need and no more deaths and no more pain.

He turned away, unable to meet Dick’s gaze even with the cowl on. 

Dick tried to say something, but his words were stifled by the sound of Jason’s grapple gun firing.

 Jason flew away as Dick screamed after him, desperate. Yet, Jason couldn’t turn back. He had to keep going. Dick might not have seen it, but Jason knew soon he would understand. 

After all, he was doing it all for them.

He was an outsider— he had always been ever since Bruce had taken him in— but that wouldn’t stop him from trying to fix things for them— for the family that Bruce had created. He owed him that. 

After all, he was the Robin that got Batman killed.

He landed on the rooftop with a muffled thud.

The impromptu meeting with Dick had messed up his schedule slightly. He was supposed to already be down by the docks. Maybe if he hurried he could still make it before the shipment—

“Robin,”

Shit.

Not again.

He had hoped that a meeting with fucking Batman would be enough to deter the kid, but alas, Spooky kid was back— great. 

Jason turned around to continue his argument with the child—

He burst out laughing.

“Oh my god, what the fuck are you wearing?” He managed to say between wheezes and giggles.

“Robin,” the kid said in the most serious tone Jason had ever heard, looking at him with a scowl that could rival Batman’s. 

Jason was tempted to stop laughing, but one look at the kid— dressed in dark clothes, with knee and elbow pads and a Batman helmet— send him into another wave of hysterics.

He hadn’t laughed in quite a while and it felt… it felt good.

“Ok, kid,” he said, finally managing to calm down, “what are you doing?”

“I am here to help you—“

“Pardon me?”

“I’m here to help you.”

“How— why are you dressed like that?”

“To help you,”

Jason looked at him confused trying to figure out how the two things were correlated.

“I am going to be your sidekick.”

“What? No.” 

Was this kid actually insane?

“You are like ten! You can’t be a vigilante.”

“Yes I can,” the kid said, crossing his arms, “and I’m almost thirteen!”

“I don’t care you are ‘almost thirteen’!” Jason said, unable to believe he was fighting a child, “you can’t just— no.”

“Why not? You started at this age too—“

“I had training!”

“I have proven myself to be a good enough detective to figure out Bruce Wayne was Batman—“

“That’s not—“

“And I have been following you around for years and you haven’t even noticed!”

What?

“What?”

His phone buzzed, and he took it out to see a notification. The shipment had arrived. He wouldn’t make it in time.

If the kid had just—

He took a deep breath, trying to drown the rising anger. The kid couldn’t have known.

First Dick and now this! How much worse could his day get?

He took another breath.

“Why? Just why?”

The kid looked at him and for the first time, Jason noticed a deep anger in his eyes.

“You are going to get yourself killed.”

Jason fought the urge to roll his eyes. What did this kid even know? How could he look so convinced saying such lies? He must have known he sounded insane. He didn’t even know Jason, so how could he judge?

“Jason listen to me!”

Against his better judgment, he did.

“The path you are on will lead to nothing but your destruction. You can’t keep doing this— you can’t. You are acting irrationally. You are taking unnecessary risks and you are hurting not only yourself but everyone else who stands in your path.

“Gotham needs Robin. We already lost Batman, we can’t lose you too. If he kept us safe, you gave us hope, Jason. You need to be strong.”

And then, he wished he hadn’t.

“I thought Dick would be able to deal with you,” Jason said.

“He wouldn’t listen,” the kid said, sounding irritated, “So, I am your problem now. I am doing this either with your help or without it.”

“Where are your parents?”

“It’s complicated,” he said, “will you train me or not?”

Chapter 3

Bruce would have been so disappointed—

“I trained you better than this,” he would have said.

“I thought you would have done better,” he would have said.

And maybe, for once, Dick would have admitted he was right without arguing back.

Because he knew that if he had just stopped and looked like that small part of his brain was screaming for him to do… he would have noticed.

He would have noticed that Jason’s smile never reached his eyes; that he hadn’t cried once; that he was not sleeping; that he was not eating; that he was spending too long in the Batcave; that he was too eager to return to patrol… and that he wasn’t healing.

But maybe he had noticed… maybe he had noticed and decided it was easier to do nothing. Maybe he had thought that the problem would go away if he just ignored it…

This was his fault. He should have been there. He should have done something! Anything!  

Jason had been in pain— it had completely overflown him just looking for a way to be released— but Dick hadn’t noticed. Or at least, he hadn’t been able to notice. There had been so much to do— so much to plan… the funeral… The Justice league… Bruce Wayne… Wayne Enterprises… the family…

Batman.

He thought he had it— he thought he was going to be able to hold onto it too— but Jason slipped right off his hand… and he hadn’t begun to try to catch him until it was too late.

Even the neighbor’s kid who lived a few miles away had noticed before him.

Why was he so bad at this?

He should have done better.

He was supposed to be better… but maybe he wasn’t.

“I thought I’d find you here,” said a familiar voice bringing him out of— what Jason had once called— his morose introspection.

He didn’t have to turn around to know the look on Clark’s face— it had been the same ever since he had returned from that mission. It wasn’t judgmental— even though Dick felt it should be— nor was it pitying; it was just kind, and so full of understanding and care and hurt and love and—

And Dick didn’t know how the man could still stand so hopeful even after the last six months.

“What are you doing here, Clark?” Dick said, hoping the alien with super-hearing wouldn’t notice the way his voice wavered. 

“There was a Justice League meeting today—“

“Shit,” he said, “I— I had it marked and everything! I don’t know how I forgot— I promise I really tried to make it this time—“

“Dick, stop.”

And he did.

“Can you take that cowl off? Please?”

Suddenly there was a warm hand on his shoulder, and any argument he had begun to think of died immediately.

He took off his cowl and finally turned to meet the man.

The look he has expected was right there painted on his face and Dick felt the world begin to tear apart.

“Kid—“ Clark began and the world completely came apart. The ground opened and Dick was falling and—

The warm hand on his shoulder pulled him towards a warm body and Dick was enveloped in one of the best hugs he could ever remember receiving.

He buried his head in Clark’s shoulder, and he couldn’t help the sob that escaped his body as Clark did his best to comfort him. 

He hadn’t cried in front of anyone since the funeral. Everyone had been hurting and they needed him and it had just felt unnecessary to plaster his emotions onto others. He had done a great job at it too… or at least he had thought he had. Jason proved to be an argument against that point.

“I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing,” he said after what felt like an eternity.

“Why didn’t you come to me?” Clark asked, “Or anyone? Dick, you have so many people that care about you and would have been here to help you. Rao, Wally won’t stop asking me to check on you since you’ve been ignoring his calls.”

“Not on purpose!” Dick responded, “I thought I had it! I thought I could handle this on my own— and I part of me still thinks I should…  this is not what Bruce would have done— it not what Batman—“

“Kid, you are not Batman.”

Dick pulled away feeling indignant.

“What do you mean?” He asked angrily.

“You are not Batman,” Clark repeated as it was the most obvious thing in the world, “Bruce would have never wanted you to be Batman. He wanted you to be better— and you are! Your biggest strength lies in accomplishing what Bruce could never do: you were able to let go. That darkness he relished on? You do not have that. And that makes you so admirable and I’m sure anyone that knows you would say the same thing. You are Nightwing. You are not Batman and I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there to help you—“

“But Gotham needs Batman!”

Clark looked thoughtful for a moment.

“Maybe it doesn’t.” He said.

“What do you mean?”

“Bruce might have been a recluse-weirdo to most people, but he did manage to garner allies.”

Clark made his way over to the Batcomputer and brought up a list of names… a very long list of names.

“These are the ones only in Gotham, but of course, most of the JL, JSA, and the Titans would be more than happy to help. You are not alone here. We will help you keep Gotham safe.”

Clark turned towards Dick.

“You just go find Jason and bring him home.”

“I’ve been trying to do that, but I can’t find him. When I did he just ran away from me. I just hope I can find him before something bad happens.”

—-

“This is most definitely not training!”

“Actually, Spooky Kid, it is training,” Jason argued for what felt like the thousandth time as he slowed his pace again to make sure the kid didn’t faceplant to the floor. Again. 

“If it is training,” the kid said, sounding extremely put together for someone with two scraped knees and who looked like he was about to throw up, “then when do I get to go out on patrol with you?”

“This is literally your first ‘training’, and you have proven yourself incapable of keeping up with me on a slow run.”

“That is only because you are taller than me.”

“It is not my problem that you are short.”

“I am not short. I am a perfectly good height for my age.”

“Yes, but you are ten.”

“I am not ten. I am almost thirteen.”

Jason studied the kid behind him for a moment.

“You see, I am convinced you are lying to me.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44748827

(9 chapters total. Unfinished.)

Chapters 4-6:

[intubatedangel]

Pageant Fever - Chapter 1

I’m back :) First up, a quick update, my other project stated off strong then got a bit snarled and frankly I spent far too long trying to brute force through it. I have put it to one side for the moment and will be back to focussing on med stories for a while. In a similar vein I did struggle for a while on figuring out what my come back story was going to be. I toyed with some ideas such as exploring Anna’s time in the ICU and recovering afterwards, but nothing seemed to have the combination of character development and resus material that would work.

So instead, we’ve jumped forwards about a year from the epilogue of Code Red, and I’ve gone back to basics for getting myself, Anna, and all you lovely readers back into the world of Anna Swift. I don’t know how quick I’ll be with updates, I need to get back into the swing, plus summer is sort of busy for me on top of the heat always dragging me down for the first few weeks. But anyway, onto the story. As is often the case with my stories, this first chapter is mosstly setup, but I hope it gets you interested and I hope you enjoy.

* * *

Story Index  

* * * 

Zara was sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window as the car turned into the convention centre's expansive car park. It was only half full, but that still meant over a thousand cars arrayed out on the tarmac and concrete. Her mother guided the car down the rows towards a fenced off area close to the building. A marshal with a bright orange jacket waved them to a stop and approached the window.

"Here for the pageant?" He asked, with the flat tone of a phrase he'd uttered dozens of times in the last hour.

"Yes we are. Here's our pass." Zara's mother smiled widely as she held out a lanyard and a sheet of paper.

The marshal barely even glanced at them. "There's still some places down at the end." He stepped back and waved them through, his attention already turned to the next car that approached behind them.

They followed his directions, pulling into a space further down the car park, but didn't get out immediately. Her mother reached around and dragged her handbag out of the back seat and began to rifle around in it. It took some time. The damned thing was colossal. Zara had seen tradesmen on the city trains with smaller toolboxes.

Zara avoided rolling her eyes, opting instead to look out past the convention centre, where the docks operated on the far side of the river. Once upon a time similar activity would be taking place right here, but as industries changed this side had fallen into disuse, then disrepair, eventually leading to the redevelopment that had built the convention centre, hotels, and a supposedly thriving nightlife. Not that Zara had seen any of that. Not with her mother practically barring her into the room last night.

"Here." Her mother got her attention. She was holding out a pill and a bottle of water.

"Do I have to?" Zara asked.

"You want to win the national competition don't you? You're 21, it's your last real chance."

"I haven't won the county yet!" Zara motioned to the imposing convention centre.

"You will." Her mother said, with an expression that was beyond certainty.

"Mum, tell me you didn't..."

"Consider it an investment in your future. Now go on take it, you need to be perfect for the final."

Zara eyed the pill with trepidation, but seeing the frown beginning on her mother’s face she finally relented and took the pill, taking a sip of water to wash it down.

Her mother was back to smiling widely. "Good girl. Now let’s go."

* * *

Anna sat on the sofa in their apartment. She was starting to feel almost fully back to herself. Recovering from her injuries had taken a considerable amount of time, especially the neurological damage. But with intensive physiotherapy and close guidance, she had ended up with little in the way of permanent damage. A few tingles in her left side, and a very marginal clumsiness, were all that was left. In fact, she'd been cleared to go back to work months ago. There was only one reason why she hadn't.

A blabbering gurgle dragged her gaze downwards to look into a set of eyes that matched her own. Hope Fiona Diane Teague. Her daughter. The 6-month-old baby cracked a smile as she let out some more incoherent, but clearly happy, noises. Anna smiled at the child in her arms. "Was that good?" She asked, prompting another babble. "Yeah." She rearranged her clothing, glad for the larger buttons as she manipulated them with one hand, then lifted Hope to her shoulder as she stood up. Gently bouncing her daughter to burp her, Anna began to gather various bits and pieces into a bag.

"We're going to go and see daddy, aren't we. And then we'll check out the creche, where there’s lots of really nice people, and new friends. Ooooh, and toys. Yeah, won't that be nice."

Hope responded with another noise, and then a soft blegh. Anna held Hope slightly out from her and glanced at the little bit of spit up on the towel she'd strategically placed over her shoulder. "It's your own fault for being so greedy." She said jokingly as the baby wiggled her limbs in excitement, smiling despite the trickle on her chin. Anna grinned as she wiped it away with the corner of the towel. "All better. Now let’s get you in here."

She gently placed Hope into the pram, buckling her in then tilting the basket up to give her a bit of a view. Anna quickly double checked the bag for various supplies, adding some milk, then placed it into the tray underneath the basket. She pushed the whole lot to the door, pausing to check herself in the mirror. She didn't want a repeat of the time she had gone out to the shops with category 5 bed hair.

"Right then little one, let's go."

* * *

Zara trailed her mother through the backstage area of the convention centre. The concept of privacy was clearly little more than a passing thought. Each 'cubicle' was basically three panels, a mirror and two sides that stuck out just far enough for a simple stool.

"26, 27, here we are, 28." Her mother announced as she hung the garment bag on a hook, then grabbed the large case from Zara's hand and placed it on the shelf in front of the mirror with a thump. "Get changed into the dress. I'm just going to... double check the arrangements." She left without even looking at Zara.

The young woman sat on the stool with a sigh, spinning idly for a couple of seconds as she tried to get in the mindset. Big smiles, graceful movement. It all felt like such a chore. For a brief moment she considered just running away. Or sabotage. But ultimately it would just lead to her mother’s anger.

She shrugged out of the hoody and kicked off her shoes, glancing around to make sure nobody was staring at her. She slipped off her t shirt and jeans and looked at herself in the mirror in just her underwear. She was slim and toned. Not rib-showing-ly skinny, simply fit and healthy. Apparently that wasn't good enough for her mother.

Just a few more months. She thought to herself. Get this and the national competition out of the way, then maybe I can finally live my own life.

She turned from the mirror and unzipped the long bag. Despite her frustrations with her mother, she had to admit that there were some things about this whole thing that she did enjoy. The dresses were one of them and this particular one was simply stunning. Much like herself, it was a blend of two cultures. Below the waist the long straight western skirt would hang down to her ankles, with a split down the side to allow for some 'leg action' and easy movement. Above the waist it was effectively a single long rectangle of fabric, a sari style that would wrap around her body and bust and up over and round her shoulders, while still providing glimpses of her midriff and cleavage, leaving her arms free. It was a soft gold colour that complemented her dark olive skin tone, accented with deep vibrant colours that created a pattern around the trim.

It was simple enough to put on, once you had the technique, and in under a minute she was checking it in the mirror, twirling this way and that, making slight adjustments to get the effect just right. She perched back on the stool and opened the case. It was split into three sections. Hair products, make up and jewellery. She left the first two, those were claimed by her mother. Instead, she took out the jewellery. She slid a pair of thick bangles onto her forearms, and then picked up the necklace. Though necklace was something of an understatement. A gold chain went around the back of her neck, while the front was a triangular expanse of links and stone settings surrounding a sizeable ruby. A family heirloom that had seen centuries turn, her mother had claimed it was fate that it fit her so perfectly. Zara was rather more confident that it was genetics, especially with it having been resized for her paternal grandmother.

Adorned with the jewellery, she had little other option to wait for her mother to return. So, she reached for her own bag and took out a chemistry textbook to study for her upcoming tests.

* * *

It was a bright and warm day, with just the slight hint of a breeze to keep things comfortable. Hope was blabbering to herself and reaching up to play with the colourful trinkets dangling from the handle of the detachable basket. As she stopped at a crossing, she found herself in the cliche situation of an older woman cooing over a baby. She didn't mind though, making polite conversation as they waited for the traffic lights.

A few minutes later she reached the hospital. As she pushed the pram towards the doors she saw Hope grimace and let out a little grunt. "Now that’s just rude. Dropping a stinker right before we see everyone?" Hope relaxed and grinned up at her letting out a squeaking giggle. Anna rolled her eyes and chuckled as they entered the doors to the emergency department.

It was still much the same as it had been, laid out with the hub in the middle and various areas spreading out behind coloured doors. Anna skirted around the edge of the spacious waiting area and past the main reception desk. One the receptionists must have seen her out of the corner of her eye, and had started turning towards her, presumably to direct her to the desk first, but then she recognised Anna and smoothly turned it into a smiling wave. Anna waved back, then reached into her purse for her badge and looped it over her head with one hand.

Through the doors beyond the reception desks was the main nurse’s station. It was a bustling hive of activity as charts were compiled and exchanged, discussions were held, and the near endless amount of paperwork was worked on. Despite the number of people, she saw Carl immediately. He was next to Trish, at one of the computers, double checking something. Anna rolled the pram over towards them, Hope's happy gurgling alerting them both. With full smiles the pair skirted out through a gap in the circular desks. Trish gave her a quick friendly embrace, stepping out of the way to let Carl grab her tighter and give her a peck on the cheek. He then turned to their daughter, leaning down almost into the basket.

"You might not want..." Anna started, before snorting in laughter as Carl recoiled slightly.

"How can something so beautiful and cute, create something so foul?" He said, keeping his eyes on the small child as he reached in and let her play with his hand. He glanced up at Anna. "How's she been this morning?"

"Good as gold. Even her tooth hasn't been a bother today."

"Good. We'd better get you changed while you’re still in a good mood then." He said to Hope, who replied with a squeak and a kick of her legs.

"I can take her if you want." Trish inserted, smiling down into the basket.

"If you're sure." Anna agreed readily enough.

"Of course." Trish said as Carl eased out of the way, letting the nurse take the handles of the pram. "Come with auntie Trish and we'll get you cleaned up in a jiffy." She said as he wandered away towards the bathrooms.

Carl settled in next to Anna leaning against the desk, their hands finding each other’s and linking almost unconsciously. "You haven't just handed over a poo-splosion have you?"

"God no. I couldn't do that to even my worst enemy." They both stood there, staring into the middle distance for a moment, having a joint flashback to the level 1 biohazard that had led to the sacrifice of a onesie and a couple of towels.

"Are you still feeling good about coming back?" He asked her for the dozenth time.

Anna looked around the department, feeling the smile on her face. "Yeah. Now that I'm here, yeah, I think it's the right decision."

Carl looked at her and nodded. "Good. The creche should be ready for her whenever."

"I'll take her up once Trish is back."

The stood in companionable silence for a few moments, until a nurse in the white uniform of a student nurse hurried over with a chart in her hand. "Dr Teague, I've finished the discharge form for Mr Daniels, if you could just sign off on it for me, sir." That last word was spoken not with a tone of outright deference and respect, much closer to something of a joke.

Anna looked at her for a second, then her name clicked. "Tilly?" It was one of the student nurses who had cared for her when she was still in the ICU.

"Oh, Anna! It's so good to see you! You look amazing!" The young nurse practically bubbled with excitement.

"It's good to see you too. What are you doing here though? I thought you would have graduated by now?" Anna replied.

"Nearly, just a few more weeks. This is my final placement. I opted to go for the more advanced trauma nursing course, like you said."

Anna remembered their conversations, when she was still in the ICU but off the ventilator. The student nurse had been filled with questions and the more they talked, the more excited, more inspired, Tilly had become. It had also been a great help to Anna, reconnecting some of those scattered memories, and distracting her from the lingering trauma of her early recovery.

"That's great news. We might even get to work together." As if on cue Trish returned from the bathroom, pushing the pram with one hand, holding Hope to her shoulder in the other. Anna reached out to take her daughter. "If this one settles in at the creche I might even be back next week. On which note, I'd better take her up, but I'll have an hour to burn, maybe we can catch up if you aren't busy."

"I'd like that." The student nurse said, stepping back enough to let Anna manoeuvre Hope into the pram and wheel it towards the elevators, with a parting wave at the three of them.

 * * *

Zara stood on the second rank of the large well-lit stage, along with other 29 young women vying for the county title. The staging struck her as a little absurd. The front 15 stood in a wide arc, the rest of them perched on individual boxes spaced in the gaps between the front rank, each about 3 feet high, with a set of steps running down the back. She looked out at the cavernous room. There was a moderately large crowd assembled in front of the stage, just behind a long table where the judges sat. Beyond the crowd close to a hundred stands and booths were set out in long rows. Makeup brands with product samples, local and national shops hawking their wares at inflated prices, the rampant commercialisation of beauty.

It all made her a bit uneasy. Especially when half the contestants assembled around her looked practically identical to one another. That wasn't to say she hated them. There were a couple that played into the Mean Girls stereotype, but the vast majority were as lovely in personality as they were in visage. An array of spotlights was highlighting each contestant as their names were read out, giving them a moment to wave and make an impression.

Zara tried not to adjust her sari. She felt absurdly warm under the bright lights and was glad that the makeup her mother had smothered on her had antiperspirant qualities. She could feel the sweat running down her back and legs and didn't even want to imagine what such a quantity of sweat would have done to her face, especially in harsh lighting.

Suddenly it was her turn, the even brighter spotlight bathing her in a glow that almost burned. She didn't let the feeling show. Raising her arm and waving as the announcer spoke into a microphone. "Contest 29, Zara Chamarthi." The crowd gave a ripple of applause just like they had for each of the other contestants, which increased a little as she gave a quick twirl, the skirt portion of her dress swishing gracefully.

Thankfully, the spotlight cut off after a few more seconds. Not just because it reduced the heat afflicting her. That brief twirl had left her slightly dizzy, and she had to take small shuffling steps to even out her balance. That isn't normal. She thought, blinking her eyes hard for a moment. Her breathing felt quicker as well. Maybe I’m just thirsty.

The announcer introduced the last contestant, then walked out into the centre of the stage. "And those are our contestants for today. Shortly we'll bring them out individually to display their chosen talent and to tell us about themselves, but for now, let's give them all a big round of applause as they leave the stage!"

The crowd launched into a slightly more spirited ovation as the contestants all gave another wave and moved according to the choreography, the back rank stepping off their boxes and filing into the gaps of the front rank before the long line filtered off the stage behind the curtains.

Without the burning of the lights, Zara should have felt more comfortable, but even backstage was stifling, especially with all thirty of them crammed into a tight corridor before they could get to the more spacious dressing area. The others were all engaging in conversation. It was something of a niche circuit, and many of them had attended similar events in the area for years, to the point that each became a chance to catch up with each other.

Zara didn't feel much like chatting, she could feel herself getting hazier, wishing the rest of them would hurry up. She felt someone touch her arm and turned her head towards them. It felt like such a sluggish movement. It was one of the other girls, Katie, who she'd known for almost 6 years now. She was saying something, a concerned look on her face, but the words sounded vague and muffled. Zara tried to open her own mouth but was hit by a sudden wave of tingling all throughout her body and mind. Katie seemed to slide sideways.

Zara realised that it was actually herself, falling, a moment before she impacted the floor, and everything went black.

[snowflakesnsundry]

Until Dust C 89: It's Not Much, But It's Something

UNTIL DUST CHAPTER 76 :

Word Count: 3,302 Summary: With a bit of sorrow-and a bit of rage-the reader does the best that she can. Loki takes a nap. Warnings: Story is Rated R. Author’s Notes: Hello all, I am sorry for the absence- I have been sick the last two weeks, and in a way that's left me a bit disoriented. I have been writing, but it's been snips and bits of different chapters across the remainder of act 3- so nothing publishable. I have finally managed to get this bit done, and while it's not my most exciting chapter, it is required setup for later. I am a few thousand words each into the next two chapters, so hopefully I can get those up soon as well. Thank you for your patience-you are all so kind and never complain, it means the world <3

Your comments as well always bring me so much joy- I love hearing even the most mundane thoughts or questions- rhetorical or otherwise haha.

Love you all, and hope you are all healthy, happy, and safe.

<3 <3 <3

Evening came gently.

Slipping their fingers through the grass, the twilight winds chased away the heat of the day and guided the people of Asgard indoors. Given that the sun had not fully begun to set, many would find their way back out to seek out good company, a good drink, or -if they were lucky- a bit of both.

The two of you-having returned home a few hours prior-had settled in your room, listening to the the sounds the winds carried. Loki had stepped through the door, shifted form, dried his hair, and nearly thrown himself down-half naked- upon the bed. The bed frame rattled so loudly you both feared it might break; and when he seemed satisfied it wouldn’t, he let his face fall back into the blankets. As you set your things away, you could have sworn you heard him muttering something about ‘remembering that for later’.

Figuring that a quick bath was warranted, you left him where he lay-finding him still there when you returned; stretched out on his back, one arm draped across his eyes to keep out the dwindling light of the day. His chest rose and fell slowly, and he was still enough that you could tell he was half asleep.

Moving as slowly and delicately as you could manage, you rifled through the small sampling of items the servants had left in your wardrobe-the remaining ones, you assumed, likely taking up temporary residence in one of the guest rooms. It took a bit of finding, but eventually you managed to get your hands on some of your older clothes. Specifically, you sought out a dress that had-quite some time ago- been a brilliant marigold yellow; but over the years had been worn and faded to the point that it was almost unrecognizable from its original state. It slipped easily over your head- although you did note, with a bit of pride, that the fabric around the bicep was noticeably tighter than you had remembered.

On light toes you crept up beside the bed, marveling at how quickly and easily Loki had fallen asleep. How many times had you awoken in the middle of the night only to find him fixated on one thing or another? Had you ever seen him fall asleep in the daytime?

As far as you could remember, just once- on the day you found him in the library, fading in and out of sight-back when you had hardly known one another. Despite how much energy maintaining multiple projections took, and how visibly exhausted he had been, Loki had still lingered- simply because you had asked him to explain.

The evening breeze drifted in past the curtains, barely shifting his hair as it lay settled in waves atop the sheets. Although currently shielded beneath his arm, you knew that the dark circles beneath his eyes were not what they had been. He had put less effort into pinning his hair flat against his head, and-after today- there was the faintest hint of color forming against his skin.

You didn’t think the travel or late night had tired him; nor did you believe the pacing, walk, and eventual swim had been enough to wear him down-after all, it had yet to wear you down. With a soft smile you leaned down to place your lips against the top of his head. Of all the people you imagined you would one day find in your bed- a Prince of Asgard had never been one; much less this prince in particular. Still, you dared hope that-just maybe- the reason the God of Mischief lay sleeping silently before you was because he had simply…relaxed.

As your lips touched his skin, you felt Loki jump- guilt quickly washing over you. “Sorry, sorry…” you whispered, placing your hand against his arm as he lifted it from his face. “-I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Pushing up onto his elbows, he seemingly struggled to regain his bearings. “No no, quite alright- I shouldn’t have fallen asleep-” His eyes settled on what you wore, an immediate frown carving its way onto his face. “What are you wearing?”

“Work clothes.” You replied flatly-not too concerned the item in question did not suit the tastes of a royal. “I just meant to tell you I’m heading out back-I won’t be long.”

“I’ll come with you…” He muttered, rubbing the heel of his hand against his eyes. Given just how mumbled his words were, you could tell he was struggling to pull himself free from sleep’s grasp. “-just…give me a moment here and I’ll…”

It took a bit of strength to push his shoulders back down onto the bed. “Though I appreciate it, I can assure you I will be fine.” Taking advantage of the contact, he had locked his hands about your wrists-holding you still so you might continue to hover over him. With a lazy grin, he stared up at you- the light blue of his eyes almost dusty grey in the fading light. “I promise I won’t be gone long.” You assured him.

“Can I ask where you’re going, at least?”

You laughed. “I told you- I will be out back.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Yes, but where out back.”

“Ah, right…” You fumbled for words in your mind. Just a moment ago you thought you could make it out the door without having to say out aloud-without having to mention the very thing you had been trying so hard to avoid since you had come home.

She was the ghost that roamed the halls-a silent voice that still rang clearly in your mind. Every memory that lurked at the edge of your consciousness threatened to send you into tears if you were not careful- and there were oh so many memories about. Your mother was carved into every inch of this house, which was fitting for a person with so bright a presence.

The smile on your face flickered- you could feel it. The ease with which the expression had come only moments before, was replaced by something stunted and plaster. “The regimen Sif sent along- I’ll need a place to practice…” The corners of your mouth fought hard to pull themselves down. “My… we have one out back- a little training pit- just hasn’t been used in some time im sure. I was going to just go and check…”

The look of concern on his face somehow made it worse. “Are you sure you don’t need company?”

“Very sure.” It suddenly felt very important to exit quickly- to leave the sight of everyone else before the dams broke. As you pulled back, Loki released you with quite a bit of reluctance- but settled back against the bed as you offered him a slightly stronger smile.  “I will only be a second.”

He replied with a hesitant nod. “Alright then… I will be here.”

“Don’t let the servants catch you looking like this-” you teased, hoping it might push aside any uncertainty he felt. “-you’ll frighten them.”

He smiled an empty smile- brimming with manufactured conviction that did not quite reach his eyes. “No promises.”

-Continued on AO3-

[shootersupply]

Chattanooga Shooting Supplies: Your Path to Long Range Expertise

Long range shooting isn’t just about aiming and pulling the trigger—it’s a discipline that blends patience, precision, and training. Whether you're a hunter, competitive shooter, or new enthusiast in Chattanooga, mastering this skill can be challenging without the right guidance. That’s where long range shooting classes Chattanooga come into play.

With local experts like those at Chattanooga Shooting Supplies, you can gain hands-on training, professional instruction, and the opportunity to develop critical shooting skills in a safe and structured environment. In this blog, we break down everything you need to know—from what to expect at a shooting range to essential safety tips and benefits for all experience levels.

What Should You Expect at a Shooting Range in Chattanooga?

Before diving into a long range course, it's helpful to understand the overall experience of a shooting range in Chattanooga. Local ranges like Shooters Supply offer controlled environments designed for both novice and experienced shooters.

Here’s what you can expect:

Safety-first atmosphere: All activities begin with a thorough safety briefing.

Variety of targets and ranges: Including long-distance setups tailored for training precision shooting.

Professional instruction: Certified instructors guide you through mechanics, ballistics, wind reading, and more.

Supportive environment: You’ll be surrounded by like-minded individuals who are equally passionate about firearms.

Why Take Long Range Shooting Classes in Chattanooga?

Long range shooting isn’t something you can master on your own overnight. Enrolling in long range shooting classes Chattanooga offers significant advantages:

1. Learn Key Techniques

Proper trigger control

Adjusting for wind and elevation

Understanding MOA (Minute of Angle) and MIL (Milliradian)

2. Build Confidence

Courses provide structured progress, helping shooters build confidence over time with measurable improvement.

3. Access to Quality Gear

Partnering with Chattanooga Shooting Supplies, local training classes often include access to high-quality rifles, scopes, and spotting equipment.

4. Expert Coaching

With experienced instructors, you’re guided through both classroom theory and range practice—something self-learning can’t replace.

What Safety Tips Should Beginners Always Follow?

No matter your skill level, safety is the top priority when handling firearms. Here are essential tips emphasized in every course:

Treat every gun as if it's loaded

Always keep the muzzle pointed in a safe direction

Finger off the trigger until ready to shoot

Know your target and what lies beyond it

Wear appropriate protection: Eye and ear protection are a must

Want a safe space to practice and learn? The ranges at Shooters Supply are built with safety protocols and supervised environments to ensure every shooter is protected.

How Do Gunsmith Services Enhance Your Shooting Experience?

A well-maintained rifle is key to accurate long range shooting. Fortunately, Chattanooga Shooting Supplies also offers full Gunsmith Services including:

Rifle customization

Optics mounting and zeroing

Trigger tuning and barrel maintenance

Cleaning and inspection

Taking advantage of these services can make a noticeable difference in your performance on the range.

What Are the Benefits of Using a Professional Shooting Range?

Still on the fence? Consider these standout benefits:

Safe and controlled environment

Access to multiple shooting distances

Ability to test different firearms

Structured learning through expert classes

Community and camaraderie with fellow shooters

Whether you're attending for leisure or preparing for competitions, a professional range is the ideal place to train.

FAQs: What Do People Ask About Shooting Ranges in Chattanooga?

Q1: Is there a minimum age for shooting range use in Chattanooga?Yes. Most ranges, including Shooters Supply, require shooters to be at least 18 years old unless accompanied by a parent or legal guardian.

Q2: Do I need my own firearm to join a long range class?Nope. Many classes offer firearm rentals and provide all the gear you need to get started safely.

Q3: Can complete beginners join a long range shooting class?Absolutely. Classes are tiered for all experience levels, starting from basic handling up to advanced long range precision shooting.

Q4: How long do the classes typically last?Depending on the course, it could range from a half-day workshop to a multi-session training program over several weeks.

Q5: Are private lessons available?Yes. Shooters Supply offers private and small-group sessions tailored to your specific goals.

Ready to Improve Your Skills? Take the Next Step with Confidence

Whether you're struggling to hit your target from 500 yards or simply looking to sharpen your aim, long range shooting classes Chattanooga offer a pathway to improve with confidence. By combining training with the trusted resources at Chattanooga Shooting Supplies, you’re setting yourself up for measurable, satisfying progress.

With a focus on safety, skill, and smart equipment use, you’re not just learning to shoot better—you’re learning to shoot smarter.

[ar15handguard1]

How a Cerakote FDE Handguard Protects Against Corrosion & Wear

When upgrading or building an AR-style rifle, selecting the right components is crucial for durability and performance. One of the best upgrades you can make is investing in a Cerakote FDE Handguard. Unlike traditional anodized or parkerized finishes, Cerakote offers superior corrosion resistance, wear protection, and heat resistance, making it an excellent choice for serious shooters, tactical professionals, and hunters.

This guide will break down how Cerakote FDE handguards provide long-lasting protection, compare them to other finishes, and explore why they are the top choice for AR-15, LR308, and .223 rifle builds. We’ll also discuss essential buffer tube options like the A1 A2 buffer tube to complete your setup.

Why Corrosion Resistance Matters in a Handguard

Your rifle's handguard is constantly exposed to harsh elements, including moisture, sweat, dirt, and gunpowder residue. Over time, this exposure can lead to rust, corrosion, and general wear, ultimately affecting accuracy and longevity.

A Cerakote FDE handguard provides exceptional corrosion resistance by creating a protective ceramic-polymer layer that shields the metal from oxidation and chemical damage. This makes it a superior choice over standard anodized aluminum or phosphate-coated steel handguards.

Key Benefits of Corrosion Resistance

Prevents rust formation and protects against moisture exposure in humid or wet environments.

Resists chemical damage from solvents, oils, and cleaning chemicals.

Prolongs rifle longevity by keeping your AR-15 or LR308 in peak condition for years.

How Cerakote Enhances Wear Protection

Regular use of your rifle leads to scratches, dings, and wear on your handguard. Whether you're engaging in tactical drills, hunting in rugged terrain, or competing in shooting matches, Cerakote FDE handguards offer enhanced durability against abrasions and impact.

How Cerakote Resists Wear

The polymer-ceramic formula creates a hard, protective layer that resists chipping and scratches.

Self-lubricating properties reduce friction, preventing excessive wear when mounting accessories.

Enhanced heat resistance ensures that Cerakote FDE handguards can withstand high temperatures without degrading.

Compared to other finishes like anodized aluminum, Cerakote is more durable and less prone to fading or flaking over time.

Comparing Cerakote to Other Handguard Finishes

Anodized Aluminum Handguards

Pros:

Lightweight and budget-friendly

Decent corrosion resistance

Cons:

Less resistant to impact and wear

Scratches easily, exposing raw aluminum

Parkerized Handguards

Pros:

Traditional military finish

Good corrosion resistance when oiled regularly

Cons:

Requires frequent maintenance to prevent rust

Prone to surface wear over time

Cerakote FDE Handguards (The Best Choice)

Pros:

Superior corrosion and wear resistance

Long-lasting durability with minimal maintenance

Heat-resistant coating for better performance

Custom color options, including FDE, OD Green, and Tungsten

Cons:

Slightly more expensive than standard finishes

Best Rifle Setups for a Cerakote FDE Handguard

A Cerakote FDE handguard isn't just about protection—it also enhances your rifle’s performance and appearance. Here are some of the best rifle builds that benefit from this premium handguard.

.223 / 5.56 AR-15 Build

Recommended Handguard: Cerakote FDE 223 Handguard

Why? Lightweight, tactical look, and superior durability for high-volume shooting.

LR308 / AR-10 Precision Rifle

Recommended Handguard: Cerakote FDE LR308 Handguard

Why? The ceramic finish withstands high-caliber recoil and extreme conditions.

Retro AR-15 Build with Fixed Stock

Recommended Buffer Tube: A1 A2 Buffer Tube

Why? Enhances recoil control and provides a classic rifle look to match the handguard.

Read more...The Ultimate Guide to AR10 M-LOK Handguards: Features & Installation

How to Maintain a Cerakote FDE Handguard for Maximum Protection

While Cerakote is highly durable and requires less maintenance than other finishes, following a few simple care tips will keep your handguard in peak condition for years.

Regular Cleaning

Wipe down your Cerakote FDE handguard after each use with a soft, dry cloth.

Use a mild gun cleaner (avoid harsh solvents that could dull the finish).

Protect Against Excessive Wear

If mounting accessories like grips and lights, avoid over-tightening screws to prevent scratches.

Use M-LOK or KeyMod attachment points instead of clamping directly onto the finish.

Store Your Rifle Properly

Keep your rifle in a dry, climate-controlled environment to prevent condensation buildup.

Apply a light coat of CLP (Cleaner, Lubricant, Protectant) to metal components but avoid excess oil on Cerakote surfaces.

Read more...How to Maintain a Cerakote FDE Handguard for Maximum Protection

Conclusion: Why a Cerakote FDE Handguard is the Best Choice

A Cerakote FDE handguard is more than just a stylish upgrade—it’s a high-performance, battle-proven enhancement for any AR-15, LR308, or .223 rifle. Thanks to exceptional corrosion resistance, wear protection, and heat resistance, this handguard ensures your firearm stays in peak condition for years to come.

Whether you’re upgrading an AR-15 for tactical use, building a precision LR308, or restoring a retro rifle with an A1 A2 buffer tube, Cerakote delivers unmatched durability and aesthetics.

Ready to upgrade? Check out premium Cerakote FDE handguards at AR15Handguard!

[ironcladsenrty]

HOLD UP DISPLAY: Transforming Home Firearm Safety

Firearm safety is more than a necessity; it’s a responsibility that starts with proper storage. Modern gun owners seek solutions that not only secure their firearms but also provide accessibility and aesthetic appeal. Enter HOLD UP DISPLAY, a game-changing system that transforms firearm storage into an efficient and stylish endeavor. Paired with the durable Iron Clad Sentry, it creates the ultimate gun wall mount system that prioritizes safety without compromising functionality or design.

The Importance of Secure Firearm Storage

Proper firearm storage is critical for preventing accidents, unauthorized access, and damage to your collection. Traditional gun safes and lockboxes have their place, but they often lack the flexibility, accessibility, and style required by modern gun owners.

Why Home Firearm Safety Matters:

Accident Prevention: Secure storage reduces the risk of accidental discharges, particularly in households with children.

Theft Deterrence: Organized and secured firearms are harder to steal compared to those stored haphazardly.

Legal Compliance: Many regions mandate safe firearm storage to prevent unauthorized use.

Preservation: High-quality storage systems like the HOLD UP DISPLAY protect firearms from scratches, rust, and other damage.

HOLD UP DISPLAY: A Revolution in Gun Wall Mount Systems

The HOLD UP DISPLAY system redefines firearm storage by combining practicality, safety, and style. Designed to meet the needs of casual owners and avid collectors, it provides an unparalleled solution for keeping firearms secure and accessible.

Key Features of HOLD UP DISPLAY

Versatile Design: Accommodates a wide range of firearms, from handguns to rifles, and even accessories like scopes and magazines.

Durable Materials: Built to last, the system can support heavy firearms without compromising stability.

Customizable Layouts: Adjust hooks and brackets to create a configuration that suits your needs and collection.

Aesthetic Appeal: With sleek finishes and modern designs, HOLD UP DISPLAY transforms firearm storage into a visual statement.

Safety First: The system is engineered to hold firearms securely, preventing accidental slips or falls.

Integrating Iron Clad Sentry for Enhanced Security

When paired with the Iron Clad Sentry, the HOLD UP DISPLAY system becomes even more robust. The Iron Clad Sentry adds a layer of durability and functionality that ensures firearms remain secure and properly displayed.

What Makes Iron Clad Sentry Stand Out?

Heavy-Duty Construction: Made from high-strength steel, it can withstand significant weight and pressure.

Modular Design: Like HOLD UP DISPLAY, the Iron Clad Sentry allows users to rearrange components for optimal storage.

Professional-Grade Security: Ideal for gun enthusiasts who demand the highest level of safety and organization.

Compatibility: The system integrates seamlessly with HOLD UP DISPLAY for a cohesive setup.

Setting Up a Safe and Stylish Gun Wall Mount

Creating a firearm storage solution with the HOLD UP DISPLAY and Iron Clad Sentry requires a bit of planning but pays off in functionality and peace of mind. Here’s a step-by-step guide to designing your ideal gun wall mount system.

Assess Your Needs:

Inventory your firearms and accessories to determine the space required.

Consider whether the mount will be primarily for storage, display, or both.

Choose the Right Location:

Select a secure and discreet area in your home, such as a locked room or a dedicated gun closet.

Ensure the wall can support the weight of the mount and firearms.

Prepare Your Wall:

Use a stud finder to locate studs for secure installation.

Clean and measure the area to ensure a precise fit.

Install the Iron Clad Sentry:

Follow the manufacturer’s guidelines for mounting the Iron Clad Sentry securely.

Use heavy-duty screws or anchors for maximum stability.

Add HOLD UP DISPLAY Components:

Attach hooks, brackets, and other accessories to the Iron Clad Sentry.

Arrange the layout to fit your firearms and allow for easy access.

Secure Your Firearms:

Position firearms carefully to avoid damage.

Double-check that each gun is firmly mounted to prevent accidental falls.

The Aesthetic and Functional Benefits of HOLD UP DISPLAY

The HOLD UP DISPLAY system isn’t just about safety—it’s also about showcasing your collection in a way that reflects your personal style. With sleek designs and customizable layouts, it elevates firearm storage to an art form.

Design Tips for Your Gun Wall Mount:

Lighting Matters: Install LED strips or spotlights to highlight your collection.

Color Contrast: Use a contrasting backdrop to make firearms stand out.

Thematic Displays: Organize firearms by type, era, or purpose for a cohesive look.

Accessory Placement: Use additional hooks for items like holsters, magazines, or scopes.

Combining Security and Accessibility

One of the biggest advantages of the HOLD UP DISPLAY and Iron Clad Sentry system is the balance between security and accessibility. Unlike traditional safes, which can be cumbersome to open in an emergency, a gun wall mount allows for quick and easy access while keeping firearms secure.

How the System Ensures Accessibility Without Compromising Safety:

Secure Mounts: Firearms are held firmly in place, reducing the risk of accidents.

Visible Storage: With everything in plain sight, you can quickly grab the firearm you need.

Custom Configurations: Adjustable components make it easy to organize your collection for both display and practical use.

Maintaining Your HOLD UP DISPLAY System

To ensure the longevity and safety of your HOLD UP DISPLAY and Iron Clad Sentry setup, regular maintenance is essential.

Maintenance Tips:

Clean Regularly: Dust firearms and mounts to keep them looking their best.

Inspect Components: Check for loose screws, worn brackets, or other signs of wear.

Reorganize as Needed: Adjust the layout to accommodate new firearms or accessories.

Monitor Security: Ensure all mounts and locks remain in working order.

The Future of Firearm Storage

The HOLD UP DISPLAY and Iron Clad Sentry systems represent a new era of firearm storage. By prioritizing safety, accessibility, and aesthetics, they meet the demands of modern gun owners who refuse to compromise on any aspect of their collection. From preventing accidents to showcasing prized possessions, these solutions are setting the standard for secure and smart firearm storage.

[summerlinarmory]

When it comes to tactical use, the choice between an ARP (Assault Rifle Pistol) and an SBR (Short Barrel Rifle) can have a significant impact on your firearm setup. Both options offer unique advantages, depending on the specific needs of the shooter. An ARP is typically more compact, offering a great balance of portability and firepower. It’s perfect for tight spaces and fast maneuvering while still delivering the power of a rifle.

[screechinglightstranger]

Selecting the Right Gear: Factors to Think About for IPSC Devices

Introduction

In the world of IPSC (Global Practical Shooting Confederation), having the ideal gear is essential for success. Whether you are a seasoned competitor or a novice, selecting the appropriate equipment can make a substantial difference in your performance. This article will guide you through the vital factors to consider when picking IPSC devices, such as targets, firearms, holsters, and devices. By following these standards, you can ensure that you are well-prepared for any IPSC competition.

Selecting IPSC Targets Understanding the Value of IPSC Targets

IPSC targets play a crucial role in training and competitors. They provide shooters with a chance affordable paper shooting targets to practice their accuracy and speed while mimicing real-life circumstances. When selecting IPSC targets, it is important to consider their quality, resilience, and adherence to IPSC regulations.

Factors to Think about When Selecting IPSC Targets

Quality: Look for targets made from top quality materials that can endure repeated impacts without compromising their structural integrity. Premium targets are frequently built from hardened steel or AR500 steel, ensuring durability and resistance to wear and tear.

Durability: IPSC competitors include rapid-fire shooting, which means targets should endure continuous abuse. Opt for targets with suitable density and support to stand up to bullet effects without contortion or damage.

Adherence to Regulations: Ensure that the selected targets adhere to IPSC policies concerning size, shape, scoring zones, and visibility. Utilizing approved targets will guarantee fairness and consistency during competitions.

Ease of Setup: Pick targets that are easy to assemble and dismantle, allowing for fast setup at shooting ranges or competition venues. Portable target systems can be particularly hassle-free for shooters who travel frequently.

Versatility: Think about purchasing versatile targets that use numerous shooting situations such as fixed targets, moving targets, or pop-up targets. This flexibility will improve your training sessions and keep them engaging and challenging.

Recommended IPSC Targets

IPSC Premium Targets: These targets are specifically developed for IPSC competitors, meeting all the necessary requirements. They use exceptional durability and are offered in various sizes and configurations to fit different shooting distances and disciplines.

IPSC Action Air Targets: Developed for airsoft shooters, these targets reproduce the scoring zones and measurements of standard IPSC targets. They are an exceptional option for practicing at home or in indoor shooting ranges.

Choosing Guns for IPSC Competitions Finding the Perfect Firearm

Selecting the best firearm is important for any IPSC rival. It should be dependable, precise, and comfortable to manage. Whether you prefer pistols or rifles, the list below elements will help you make an informed decision.

Factors to Think about When Picking Firearms

Reliability: Choose firearms from trusted producers known for producing trustworthy and long lasting weapons. The last thing you desire during a competitors is a malfunctioning gun that might cost you valuable point

[gearupairsofton]

Critical Considerations for Selecting an Airsoft Shotgun Canada

Selecting the optimal airsoft shotgun in Canada requires a nuanced understanding of various factors that contribute to the overall effectiveness and enjoyment in the sport. An airsoft shotgun serves not merely as a piece of equipment but as a strategic extension of the player. Whether participating in casual skirmishes or competitive events, the choice of airsoft shotgun can profoundly influence one’s performance. This article aims to elucidate the key considerations one should assess before making a purchase decision for an Airsoft shotgun Canada.

1. Shotgun Type

Airsoft shotguns are categorized primarily into spring-powered, gas-powered, and electric models, each offering distinct advantages. Spring-powered shotguns necessitate manual cocking before each shot, appealing to those who prefer a hands-on, mechanical feel. Gas-powered models offer a semi-automatic operation that enhances realism, making them suitable for players seeking an authentic experience. Electric shotguns, known for their rapid firing capability, cater to those needing high firepower in fast-paced scenarios. An understanding of each type’s mechanism will guide users to a choice that best complements their tactical approach.

2. Construction Quality and Materials

The longevity and performance of an airsoft shotgun Canada are directly influenced by its construction. Models crafted from reinforced plastics or metals are indicative of robustness, essential for frequent usage and harsh play conditions. Metal shotguns typically offer greater realism in weight and feel, which might be valued by enthusiasts of authenticity. Conversely, plastic models are lighter and might be easier for newer players to manage.

3. Ammunition Capacity and Reloading Mechanism

Capacity is a critical factor, as it determines how often a player must reload—crucial in high-tempo games. Additionally, the reloading mechanism should be considered; some shotguns simulate real firearms with shell-loading features, which, while immersive, may not be as quick as other systems. Balancing the immersion with practical gameplay needs is vital in choosing the right shotgun.

4. Effective Range and Precision

Although generally shorter in range compared to rifles, certain airsoft shotguns are engineered for surprisingly good accuracy and extended firing range. It’s important to consider the typical engagement distances in intended play environments and select a shotgun that performs optimally within those parameters.

5. Customization Potential

For many players, the ability to personalize their shotgun with accessories like scopes, extended magazines, or laser sights significantly enhances the gaming experience. Shotguns that accommodate a wide range of modifications offer greater versatility and personal expression in gear setup.

6. Budget and Local Availability

Economic considerations and product availability in Canada are crucial. Prices for airsoft shotguns vary based on brand, features, and quality, necessitating a balance between cost and value. Prospective buyers should also ensure that the chosen model is accessible within Canada to avoid excessive shipping fees and delays.

Conclusion

Selecting an appropriate Airsoft shotgun Canada involves a comprehensive evaluation of various factors that affect its functional and experiential qualities. From the type and build of the shotgun to its customization options and practical performance metrics like range and accuracy, each element must be carefully considered. By aligning these factors with personal preferences and tactical requirements, players can enhance their strategic capabilities and overall enjoyment in the sport.

[romilly-jay]

COSY CATASTROPHE: Rating The Road

The Road by Cormac McCarthy (2007)

Plot setup:

A father and son travel through an America devastated by an unspecified ecological disaster that killed most people and destroyed the biosphere.

Genre (according to *me* anyway):

Dystopian.

Before going on, a reminder about the nature of the exercise -

Starting from the concept of a spectrum with cosiness at one end and catastrophe at the other, I ranked some of the books I’ve read through the course of the MFA (and one book I haven’t read* and where I’m relying on the assessment of Adam Roberts to guide me…)

*This book... I haven't read this book. I know, I know. But - also, no.

I'm working with the (okay, perhaps arbitrary) assumption that for any given selection of somewhat related books, it's possible to plot the events, characters, and moral tone along a cosy-to-catastrophe scale of increasing moral complexity. For me, this means:

At one end of the scale, everyone is noble and there are few moral compromises. At the other end of the scale, everyone is compromised or evil and there’s no sense of a just universe.

Rating The Road 100% (= quintessentially Anti Cosy)

Rationale:

Adam Roberts described this as ‘one of the most devastatingly affecting / novels of the decade, like Samuel Beckett with a high velocity rifle’ and as a post-apocalyptic nihiltopia with ‘harrowing anti-cathartic power’ (2006, p. 481-482).

[Zero cosiness, high on desperation and impossible choices.]

Genre texts mapped on the cosiness/catastrophe "index":

§McCarthy, C. (2007) The road. London: Vintage.

References:

§Roberts, A. (2016) The history of science fiction. 2nd edn. London: Palgrave Macmillan.

[anna743453]

Choosing the Perfect Riflescope: A Beginner's Guide to Optics Excellence

The global riflescopes market size reached a value of about USD 6.75 billion in 2023. The industry is further expected to grow at a CAGR of about 5.2% in the forecast period of 2024-2032 to reach a value of around USD 10.70 billion by 2032. With the increasing popularity of shooting sports and hunting, having the right riflescope has become essential. Whether you're a beginner or an experienced shooter, the world of riflescopes can be overwhelming. This comprehensive guide is here to help beginners navigate the intricate world of optics, from understanding the basics to making an informed purchase decision.

Understanding Riflescope Basics

What is a Riflescope?

At its core, a riflescope is an optical device mounted on a firearm to aid in aiming. It allows shooters to zoom in on distant targets and provides a reticle for precise aiming. Think of it as the eye of your rifle, enhancing your accuracy and target acquisition.

Different Types of Riflescopes

Riflescopes come in various types, each tailored to specific shooting needs. There are magnified and non-magnified scopes, with reticles ranging from simple duplex to complex mil-dot. Understanding these differences is crucial to choosing the right scope for your needs.

Determining Your Shooting Needs

Primary Purpose of Your Rifle

Are you a hunter, a competitive shooter, or a casual plinker? Different shooting activities demand different scopes. For example, a long-range precision shooter will have vastly different requirements from a hunter stalking game in the woods.

Identifying Your Shooting Environment

Consider the terrain and lighting conditions where you'll be shooting. Riflescopes designed for woodland hunting may not perform optimally in open fields or low-light conditions. Choose accordingly.

Budget Considerations

Riflescopes come in a wide price range. While quality often comes with a higher price tag, there are affordable options that don't compromise on performance. Establish your budget early in the process.

Magnification and Objective Lens Diameter

The Significance of Magnification Power

Magnification power determines how close you can zoom in on a target. A scope with variable magnification allows you to adapt to different shooting situations, but it may also add weight and complexity to your setup.

Choosing the Right Objective Lens Diameter

The objective lens diameter affects light transmission and field of view. A larger objective lens gathers more light, which is beneficial in low-light conditions. However, it also adds bulk to your rifle.

Balancing Magnification with Field of View

Remember that higher magnification often narrows your field of view. Strike a balance between magnification and a wide field of view, depending on your shooting style and needs.

Reticle Options

Different Reticle Types

Riflescopes feature various reticle types, each with its own advantages. Mil-dot, BDC (Bullet Drop Compensator), duplex, and illuminated reticles are just a few examples. Choose the one that suits your shooting style and requirements.

Matching the Reticle to Your Shooting Needs

Consider how the reticle assists your aiming. Mil-dot reticles help with holdover and windage calculations, while BDC reticles are designed for specific caliber and bullet combinations. Select the reticle that aligns with your shooting goals.

The Importance of Reticle Illumination

Reticle illumination is crucial for low-light shooting. Make sure your riflescope offers adjustable brightness settings for varying lighting conditions.

Coating and Lens Quality

Explaining Lens Coatings

Lens coatings enhance image clarity and reduce glare. Look for scopes with multiple coating layers for optimal performance. Coated lenses provide better light transmission and minimize reflections.

The Importance of High-Quality Optics

Investing in high-quality optics pays off in terms of sharp, clear images. Quality scopes use premium glass and coatings to ensure an exceptional sight picture.

Anti-Glare Coatings for Better Low-Light Performance

Anti-reflective coatings on lenses improve visibility during dawn, dusk, or other low-light situations. Ensure your riflescope has these coatings for superior low-light performance.

Adjustments and Turrets

Understanding Windage and Elevation Adjustments

Windage and elevation turrets allow you to make precise adjustments to your point of impact. Learn how to use these turrets effectively to zero your rifle.

MOA vs. MIL Adjustments

Riflescopes often use either Minute of Angle (MOA) or Milliradian (MIL) adjustments. Each has its own system of measurement, so choose one that you're comfortable with.

The Importance of Reliable and Repeatable Adjustments

Consistency is key when it comes to adjustments. A reliable scope will consistently return to zero after adjustments, ensuring accuracy.

Durability and Weather Resistance

Materials Used in Riflescope Construction

Durable materials like aircraft-grade aluminum ensure longevity and ruggedness. Pay attention to the build quality of your chosen scope.

Waterproof, Fog-Proof, and Shockproof Features

Riflescopes designed for outdoor use should be waterproof, fog-proof, and shockproof. These features ensure your scope performs in adverse weather conditions and withstands recoil.

Choosing a Rugged Riflescope for Outdoor Use

If you plan to use your riflescope in harsh environments, opt for a scope built to withstand the elements and rough handling.

Mounting and Zeroing Your Riflescope

Properly Mounting the Riflescope on Your Rifle

Mounting your scope correctly is crucial for accuracy. Use the appropriate rings and mounts, and ensure it's properly aligned with your rifle's bore.

Zeroing in Your Riflescope for Accuracy

Zeroing your scope means adjusting it so that your point of aim matches your point of impact. Follow the recommended zeroing procedures for your specific scope.

Tips for Maintaining Your Zero Over Time

A well-maintained zero is essential for consistent accuracy. Periodically check and re-zero your riflescope to account for any changes in environmental conditions or equipment.

Final Tips and Recommendations

Summarize Key Points

In summary, choosing the perfect riflescope involves understanding your shooting needs, selecting the right magnification, reticle, and lens coatings, and ensuring your scope is durable and reliable.

Suggest Reputable Brands and Models for Beginners

For beginners, reputable brands like Leupold, Vortex, Nikon, and Bushnell offer a range of quality scopes at various price points. Consider models like the Vortex Diamondback or the Leupold VX-Freedom for a solid start.

Encourage Readers to Seek Expert Advice

When in doubt, don't hesitate to seek advice from experts or experienced shooters. They can provide valuable insights and recommendations based on their own experiences.

Try Before You Buy

If possible, try out different scopes before making a final decision. Visit a shooting range or attend shooting events where you can test various scopes to find the one that feels most comfortable and suits your needs.

Conclusion

Reinforce the importance of selecting the right riflescope, as it directly impacts your shooting accuracy and overall shooting experience. Encourage readers to apply the knowledge gained from this guide in their next riflescope purchase, and invite them to share their experiences or ask questions. By choosing wisely, you'll be well on your way to enhancing your shooting skills and enjoying the world of riflescopes to the fullest.

[blackrifledepot8]

BUILDING A HIGH-PERFORMANCE AR-15 UPPER

Building a high-performance AR-15 upper involves careful selection and integration of components to maximize accuracy, reliability, and functionality. Whether you’re a competitive shooter, a precision marksman, or simply seeking a top-tier rifle, here’s a step-by-step guide to building a high-performance AR-15 upper:

Define Your Purpose: Clearly identify the intended use of your AR-15, whether it’s for precision shooting, home defense, or competition. Your purpose will guide subsequent decisions.

Select a Quality Upper Receiver: Opt for a high-quality upper receiver made from materials like 7075-T6 aluminum for strength and durability. Consider a flat-top design for versatility in optics mounting.

Precision Barrel Selection: Choose a match-grade barrel made from materials like stainless steel for superior accuracy. Pay attention to barrel length, twist rate, and profile based on your shooting goals.

Free-Float Handguard: Select a free-float handguard for improved accuracy by eliminating barrel pressure points. Choose an attachment system (KeyMod, M-LOK, or Picatinny) based on accessory preferences.

High-Quality Bolt Carrier Group (BCG): Invest in a high-quality BCG with advanced coatings (nickel boron, nitride) for smoother operation and increased durability. Consider lightweight BCG options for faster cycling.

Optimized Gas System: Choose the gas system length (carbine, mid-length, rifle-length) that aligns with your barrel length for optimal performance. Consider an adjustable gas block for fine-tuning gas flow.

Enhanced Charging Handle: Opt for an ambidextrous charging handle AR 15 Upper for improved handling, especially if you’re a left-handed shooter. Extended latches can aid in easier manipulation, particularly with optics.

Premium Muzzle Device: Select a muzzle device (brake, compensator, or flash hider) based on your shooting goals, considering recoil reduction and muzzle control.

High-Quality Trigger: Choose a match-grade trigger for a crisp break, minimal overtravel, and improved accuracy. Single-stage triggers are often preferred for precision shooting.

Quality Optics: Invest in a high-quality optic or scope that suits your shooting needs (red dot sight, holographic sight, or magnified optic). Co-witnessing iron sights can provide a backup aiming solution.

Customized Furniture: Select stocks, grips, and other furniture that enhance ergonomics and suit your preferences. Consider adjustable stocks for personalized length of pull.

Durable Finishes: Apply durable finishes like Cerakote for enhanced corrosion resistance and a customized appearance.

Proper Assembly and Torque: Ensure all components are properly assembled and torqued to specifications to maintain reliability and consistency.

Range Testing and Fine-Tuning: Test your high-performance AR-15 upper at the range, fine-tuning components for optimal performance. Pay attention to accuracy, cycling, and overall reliability.

Continuous Maintenance: Regularly maintain and clean your AR-15 to ensure consistent performance. Monitor wear and tear, replacing components as needed.

Consider Specialized Configurations: Explore specialized configurations, such as lightweight or designated marksman rifle (DMR) setups, depending on your needs. Building a high-performance AR-15 upper requires a thoughtful approach to component selection, assembly, and testing. By investing in quality components, optimizing for your specific shooting goals, and fine-tuning the rifle for peak performance, you can create a top-tier AR-15 upper that excels in accuracy and reliability.