Casual Heroing

Chapter 234: Bang Bang

Chapter 234: Bang Bang

No matter what positions you are in, you have to stay as comfortable as possible. The rifle can bounce from different angles off the ground when you have to fire repeatedly. Side alignment and side picture adjusted and you should be able to rest and relax while properly looking through the scope. Scope shadow, you need to move off center, and see dark scopes, you can use them to look straight through the scope. Theres not that big of a difference between lying down with a rifle and writing notes in your secret diary while glittering the edge of the pages, prone on your bed.

All the technicalities will never be as important as having the right feeling when the finger presses the trigger. A lot of experience goes into it. I have talked with people on forums who shoot gun every single day, either because they are geek enthusiasts or in the military. The most important thing, and most agree, is how much time you spent with a gun between your hands. The longer you had it, the better will be the feeling when you shoot. Anything else doesnt really matter. Even with the best calculations, with the best preparations, your bullets might swerve because of a sudden breeze. In that moment, you have to adjust in a split-second before your target shoots you off.

They will never make a film about me sniping anyone from a couple of kilometers, but Ive trained so many days and spent tens of thousands in bullets to be able to hit a target reliably at 100m mark. Anything inside such a range is relatively easy. Even a moving target. I can shoot 200-300m without feeling out of my comfort zone as well. Further than that, it becomes a hit or miss.

The leaves around me rustle a little while I slightly shift my position. Im covered in vegetation and even the McMillan TAC-50 that Im personally handling is.

Initially, I had thought that crafting handguns and making a couple of rifles would not be that different. I was terribly wrong. I have plants all over France making the components for Berettas, but theres no way they could replicate the rifle I bought from some of my contacts. And it costed me.The source of this content nov(el)bi((n))

But in a fantasy world where apparently most shields suffer from small projectiles like arrows

I see my first targets approach a rocky part of the terrain where I carefully dug deeper the holes that were already there. I might be a touch too paranoid, but if there was any [Merchant] or [Bodyguard] worth their salt, they would notice the usual condition of the road. Sadly for them, no one can feel me from such a distance. Im around 70m from the small wagon and I see two men on the front. No one following behind.

They dont even look around. Not that they would see the camo that Sortina had made especially for me.

Did you know that improper breathing, especially with a long-range rifle, can throw your aim off wildly? Meters, even. Not centimeters. Even squeezing the trigger too rapidly, or jerkily. It has to be a smooth and uniform movement to ensure that the rifle will move as little as possible.

I breathe in lightly and I see the horse eyeing the road and slowing down a tad. The driver barely notices, trusting the horse to do the right thing for himself.

As I hold half a breath in, I stop breathing.

The finger slides gently on the trigger and a second after, a .50 bullet tears through the side of the man who was wearing armor, probably messing his insides pretty badly. The horse suddenly raises his head at the noise, but doesnt run off. The other guy, the [Merchant] looks bewildered. Sadly for him, Ive already pulled back the bolt handle and then back in with a new bullet.

Again, after half a breath, I shoot at the [Merchant], who has barely reacted.

The [Merchant] falls off the carriage and the horse, this time, freezes. It starts looking around, neighing. It has no idea whats going on.

I wait to see if theres a third hidden person inside their wagon, but nothing comes out after several minutes. I know that some [Rogue] could have stealthed his way out of it.

I wish I had some artifacts.

Borrow.

No.

Tax.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

Many times I wondered what blocked people from becoming rich. Was it that they were born poor? Was there some chemical in their blood, some gene? Its the same principle by which people dont stab each other in the neck every day. How is that possible? Even a simple fork in a restaurant could pierce your jugular without a problem. It would pierce the wall of one of the biggest vein in your body with no problem, leaving you to bleed out in a very weird way.

It is about being cold.

If you are cold enough, you can do much more than any other person. If you have a big disregard for the law, you find out that criminals get caught less than you would like to believe. We are mostly bound by the invisible, by the fear, by our habits.

We are bound by our faith in something that isnt real, like God.

Who might believe that a poorly trafficked road might be taken hostage by a crazy woman with a TAC-50 and stamina potions to avoid falling asleep? And what kind of insane damage could such a person do in three days? If a road is mostly used by [Merchants], since no one really goes toward the half-giant city of Leggiadra, what happens when someone just kills and robs all those [Merchants]?

Unless you have a system to communicate among [Merchants] and send warnings in case something dangerous is on the road nothing. Nothing happens. People keep dying.

I remove an arrow from my thigh, swearing loudly, and looking down at the [Bodyguard] that I missed. This man had a way of tracking me and managed to actually hit me. I killed his entire caravan, around eight people. The last hit before going back.

The health potion swiftly heals my thigh.

[Gunman Level 13!]

I spit on the ground, frustrated. I emptied my Beretta in this guys chest, killing him as he was approaching me. He probably thought I didnt have any short-range protection. I dropped the rifle as he was closing in, raising one of my hands and keeping the other on my thigh. When he approached, I swiftly took out my handgun and shot him dead.

Not ideal.

I look at the massacre left on the road and start limping toward the stash of chests of holding I put together under some cut-off branches. Then, I hear a branch break off.