Legendary // H.S

27.

In truth, I never even considered the team needing weapons for what they do, but with every passing day it becomes more obvious just how little I know. I've been so naïve. Their jobs aren't easy. Everything they do comes with risk. Of course, they need to protect themselves against it. I just never believed it would be on this scale.

I'd been informed by Harry that these things aren't nearly as hard to get a hold of as one would think. There's a booming black market in the UK, dealing with arms and other illegal objects with connections spanning the globe. It's always those you least expect that are in charge of these shipments and trades, using their army of minions to do the dirty work on the down low. The sellers pray on the weak, he said. Usually young offenders and gang members, feeding off of their demise. That's how most of the kids end up in juvenile detention or prison, while their dealers remain hidden by their benefactors.

It's a wicked game.

The mechanics of the guns had been explained to me once I'd calmed down at the sight of them. Bullets are loaded into the rear of the barrel, which is a tube connected to a firing pin. The trigger is the catalyst that sets a chain reaction of events off. It releases the pin, which strikes a small explosive charge in the base of the bullet. The explosion ignites the gun powder inside the shell casing around the bullet which in turn forces it out of the casing and down the barrel towards the target. Simple stuff, really. It doesn't seem as terrifying when explained like that.

My fingers trailed along the exterior of the guns first, just taking in the sensation of them. Every crevice of them was felt under my soft fingertips. They didn't seem so harmful when I touched them. Just pieces of plastic and metal. Random objects welded to look scary. If you don't know the damage they can do, then I suppose it's easy to remain calm around them. There were a pair of eyes on me the whole time, I could feel them on my back, but he never uttered a word. At least I was being given the time I needed to adjust.

Then I finally picked one off the wall. It was heavier than it looked. A chill went down my spine as I moved it back and forth between my hands. I inspected every detail of it, even looking down the barrel of it. This one wasn't loaded, but even as I placed it a few inches from my head, Harry moved over to me to remove it from my grasp. He put it back so delicately, treating it with care. He swallowed deeply before turning back to me. There was a hint of worry behind his eyes.

After that he took me through the different types of guns. There are rifles, which are to be held by two hands and shouldered for support. They can only shoot one bullet but they're powerful enough to cause immeasurable injury. Then there are shotguns. Again, two-handed and shot from the shoulder. These ones have the potential to fire multiple rounds, but their shot is much smoother than others. Lastly, handguns. Single-hand pistols that are semi-automatic and have the chamber in the barrel, and revolvers whose cartridges are stored in the chambers and rotated to align with the barrel. I played around with them for a bit, deciding which sat better in my palms, which I preferred holding. I didn't want to hold either one, but it's not like I have a choice anymore. I settled on the pistol in the end. Seemed like the easiest thing to get the hang of for a beginner.

You can enter the shooting ring through the weapons room or an exterior door. We followed through to the next room from where we were, Harry making sure to lock the door on his way out. I had asked him about it at one point. He simply said that no one should have that much access to harm. Ironic considering he's the one in control of it.

The shooting range is better lit than the weapons room. There are lights down every lane, illuminating the targets and the approach. The walls are also dark, no windows lining them. This isn't something you want the outside world to see. There's meshed material separating each lane, just to make sure people don't mistake someone else's target for theirs. In front of us are tables with ammo, silencers earmuffs and glasses, all seated behind glass I can only assume to be bullet proof. There's a hole in the middle, centred on the targets situated across the room, but a small door closes it. Harry has the key to unlock them.