Snippet #2243945

Viktor led her to one of the firing lanes. Each was a cork desk with wood divisions separating every adjacent lane. "Theo, c'mere, and both of you listen." He reached past Callen and picked up the gun that would be hers to practice with. "Callen, this is the Vektor forty-five by Kriss industries. It fires forty-five caliber pistol rounds from an extended pistol's magazine with minimal recoil and is handled much like an assault rifle. It is automatic, and will stop a werewolf with a clip to the chest. Alright? But one slip, trip, tumble, or blunder will kill one of your teammates. I don't now how much Mind and Backup students are taught about firearms, so I'm going to teach you like a child. Keep it pointed away from people at all times, and if you aren't aiming at a target, keep it pointed at the floor. Same goes for you, Theo."
Viktor sighed and put the gun back down. He picked up the baggy full of ammunition and an empty magazine, then handed them to Callen and told Theo to do the same. "The more bullets you load, the harder it is to fill the magazine. Your thumbs are going to hate me." He grabbed his own and demonstrated-push the spring and rest down with one thumb and slide the bullet in with the other. "Most magazines are designed to be idiot proof-you can't half-load or put a bullet in backwards. If you did, you're not only retarded, but your gun is going to jamb and you won't be able to cycle rounds to clear it. So don't." He got his loaded, hand-muscles strained by the end of the forty-round count. The spring at the bottom of the magazine was a tiny ball of tension.

Theo struggled to get past ten, hated himself at twenty, found it near-impossible at thirty, and was out of breath by forty. "T-the magazines will already be loaded w-when we get there, r-right?"