to all those who have deemed me problematic for speech-burping “semper fi” in my cute little combat boots; good news: ill be dragged via car with a rope tied around my nuts thru the highway of heroes on a mechanic workshop roller, and im not allowed to drop my salute
And God are the “Remington 870 vs th mossberg 500/590” videos annoying.
I would just get the rem 870. Solid fucking piece
Maverick 88, Mossberg 590, or a Police trade in 870. Most modern Rem 870s got qual control issues from my understanding, so a 80s police trade in would be a good find. Usually cheap too.
Don’t do a modern 870, you want your gun to work and a modern 870 will barely work. If you need dirt cheap and flexible, source a 50′s to 60′s 870 with a long barrel and simply swap it out for a normal 18-20 inch one. I don’t know why, but every gun shop around me has a long barreled 50′s Wingmaster for half of a new one’s price. If that doesn’t work, go for the 500/590 or scout the used racks for something like an old Hi-Standard made Sears and Roebuck shotgun.
And if you’re having trouble sourcing, get the H&R Pardner Pump Security model. It’s about $200, and that’s at big box store prices. Essentially a Chinese copy of the 870. It’s a little heavier, a little uglier, with an ugly finish that, unlike Remington’s new production, actually lasts. And dirt fucking cheap, so you can count the extra hundred bucks or so you saved while someone bitches.
– An eerily tall man stands behind your comrade. Something is wrong, the streets should be clear of civilians. He turns slowly to look at you. Why is he wearing sunglasses at night?
– You sit in front of the Memorial Wall. They say, “It’s not your fault.” They say, “There was nothing you could do.” They say, “It took control.” You know the truth. All it did was make you want to open fire.
– You hear a bellowing like the sound of a stuck pig. It’s quickly coming closer, even though you know there should be several walls between you and it.
– Vahlen gives you a friendly smile as you pass her by in the hall. You avert your eyes and quicken your gait. The soldiers who returned from her laboratories never seemed the same.
– You thought nothing could be worse than hearing your friend screaming. Then you heard silence.
– You promised your wife that you would come back home in one piece. The Commander shakes your metal hand. You tell yourself that it weren’t for the aliens, you’d have a home to go back to.
– They tell you that she was already dead. They said her body was just a puppet. That she would have turned into another one of those, given a few more minutes. Still, you swear you heard her say “help” just before you pulled the trigger.
– The mangled bodies of civilians are splayed out in the rubble. Their wounds are distinctly non alien. The rocket launcher on your back feels significantly heavier.
– You want it to be dark, so you can’t see them. You want it to be light, so you can see them coming.
– Something at the back of your mind is screaming, you realize that it matches with the scream that is coming out of your mouth. The plasma eats away at your cover as you touch your head to your knees.
– A floater lobs a grenade at the car your soldiers are taking cover behind. The car is already on fire.
– As you look down at the body of yet another Grey, you wonder if the stories you read as a kid about alien abductions and experiments were true. Your fingers tighten around the grip and you make a mental note to keep one bullet for yourself.
– You enter the ship that survived an impossible crash intact. Light reflects unnaturally along the sleek surfaces, and it feels like a thousand eyes are watching you from just beyond the shadows. Somewhere inside, it waits. The sound coming from its mouth and echoing through the corridors was engineered to remind humans of the time when they were prey. Knowing this does not help.
– Your name is Eric, you tell yourself. Your name is Eric. You still remember who you were when it mind controlled you. When they say it mind controlled you. It seemed so real. It was real to you. How can reality be so easily bent? You turn the pistol over in your hands. Is your name Eric?
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