Questions From a Prospective Writer

[Sam]

I'm with DB! No more of this amateur stuff, I want to know what guns the real writer would put in their hands.

[tightloop]

1. Young FBI guy, college grad, not into guns is a Psych major, into people. Carries what the company wants him to carry. Probably will die when he tries to use it because he thinks the word is mightier than the pistol...he will be proven wrong.

2. Small female exFBI agent. Totes a Kahr in .40S&W in her Gucci bag, and a can of mace on her key chain..Dedicated but overly impressed with her former credentials, she will probably have the gumption to use the weapon but her rapist will slit her throat B4 she can get it into action.

3. The old cop pulled the '72 LTD to the curb and jammed the shift lever into park. The 429 Police Interceptor loped at idle, but he was old school, and he liked Detroit iron and horsepower to spare. He looked through the mist, down the street. It was dark, dangerous. He hated to leave the big sedan with the security of real steel instead of plastic, not to mention the 870 riot gun sitting on the seat next to him. These were bad guys, not just some punks, and he went through his routine when he exited the car. The weight of the '70 Series Colt was reassuring as it nestled in the Chapman cross draw holster. Tuned and utterly reliable he had reluctantly shelved the old Mod. 10 after his bud Jim Cirillo had left the force. Armand Swenson had built the big .45 to his specifications and the crisp trigger and 9 rounds instead of 6 had been the deciding factor. He bent to retie his shoe and casually felt for the Model 36 J frame in the Alessi ankel holster. Stoked with Magsafe ammo, it would do in a pinch if the big Colt ran dry and he couldn't manage a speed load. Feeling in his pants pocket for his Zippo, he pushed aside the NA Arms 22 Mag derringer and lit his cigarette. After a few drags, he stubbed out the smoke and hitched up his pants. Feeling the 1.5 lb sap in his right rear pocket he started down the alley. There might be two or more of them but he felt confident in the many hours he and Cirillo had trained at the range. Middle age had invaded his body, but he could still muster a 1.6 second Hammer from concealment. He was ready, let the fun begin...

4. Young and dumb, the security guard alternates between carrying a 4" Nickel Mod 29 and when his supervisor is on assignment , he packs a Ruger Redhawk in .480 Ruger customized by Hamilton Bowen. The young hoods who are 'jacking the 750 Beemer from the parking lot will enjoy the Redhawk after they take it off the body of the security guard, but only for a while, till his drug dealer takes it from him in lieu of payment for some party drugs.

5. The executive yuppie thinks the old Model M Colt fits his need. It lies flat against his cell phone in his briefcase, nothing to it but to pull the trigger. Flying high when he paid 525 bucks for the old piece he did not know enough to test fire it of even function test it before buying some Federal .32's and loading the mag. He has no clue that the pistol won't even fire, till he pulls it to threaten the PCP drugged teenagers who ask him for money as he stops at the light on his way to pick up some smack for the weekend. It would be his last and worst mistake...

[tightloop]

Come on Duane

Don't keep us in suspense, how did we do and what did the real writer choose?

[Flexmoney]

Good stuff posted.

The druggie deserves a Hi-Point.

[Duane Thomas]

You know, there just may be a frustrated writer inside of me squirming to get out.

If you need any help with the delivery, let me know.

[Duane Thomas]

Guys, all your input has been invaluable. I've "talked" to the writer, and I think this is the final lineup:

Male FBI agent: SIG P228.

Female FBI agent: Glock 23.

Retired NYDP cop: Smith & Wesson 4" heavy barrel Model 10 AND Model 36 Chiefs Special.

Young security guard with a big bore fetish: Glock 21.

Yuppie idiot: Probably a Bryco .32.

Thanks!

Duane

[Duane Thomas]

3. The old cop pulled the '72 LTD to the curb and jammed the shift lever into park. The 429 Police Interceptor loped at idle, but he was old school, and he liked Detroit iron and horsepower to spare. He looked through the mist, down the street. It was dark, dangerous. He hated to leave the big sedan with the security of real steel instead of plastic, not to mention the 870 riot gun sitting on the seat next to him. These were bad guys, not just some punks, and he went through his routine when he exited the car. The weight of the '70 Series Colt was reassuring as it nestled in the Chapman cross draw holster. Tuned and utterly reliable he had reluctantly shelved the old Mod. 10 after his bud Jim Cirillo had left the force. Armand Swenson had built the big .45 to his specifications and the crisp trigger and 9 rounds instead of 6 had been the deciding factor. He bent to retie his shoe and casually felt for the Model 36 J frame in the Alessi ankel holster. Stoked with Magsafe ammo, it would do in a pinch if the big Colt ran dry and he couldn't manage a speed load. Feeling in his pants pocket for his Zippo, he pushed aside the NA Arms 22 Mag derringer and lit his cigarette. After a few drags, he stubbed out the smoke and hitched up his pants. Feeling the 1.5 lb sap in his right rear pocket he started down the alley. There might be two or more of them but he felt confident in the many hours he and Cirillo had trained at the range. Middle age had invaded his body, but he could still muster a 1.6 second Hammer from concealment. He was ready, let the fun begin...

I LOVE it!