American variety show: Sniper Elite

Chapter 102 Weapons (Third Update)
Beta stepped out of the car carrying a heavy bag. The roller shutter behind her slowly closed with a heavy metallic scraping sound, blocking out the outside light inch by inch.

As the last ray of sunlight was cut off, the entire warehouse was plunged into a brief darkness until the fluorescent tubes overhead hummed on, and the light once again outlined the entirety of this empty space.

All the windows in the warehouse were tightly covered with thick blue tarpaulins, ensuring that no light could be seen from the outside. Four containers were neatly arranged in the center, three of which had their doors open, leaving only the last one tightly closed.

Beta placed his bag on the concrete floor and walked toward the last container, its rusty hinges creaking loudly as they opened.

As the container door fully opens, the built-in LED light strip automatically lights up, filling the entire interior of the container with white light.

On the left is a small boring machine and a vertical drilling machine; the right wall is covered with all kinds of power tools, from angle grinders to welding torches; at the far end is a precision balance sealed in a glass case, next to a semi-automatic bullet assembly machine.

The entire space was filled with the mixed smell of machine oil and metal, like an underground military factory.

Beta glanced around the tool shed for a moment, then turned and picked up the heavy bag, placing it on the workbench in the center of the container.

With a "zip" sound, the zipper was pulled open, and the contents of the bag were revealed under the light.

A 660mm titanium alloy barrel lies quietly in shock-absorbing foam, with an inner diameter of 6.8mm and 5 rifling grooves.

Beta put on gloves and held out the $4000 gun barrel. The silvery-gray surface of the titanium alloy shimmered with a cold glow under the light. He gently stroked it through the gloves, his fingertips able to feel the metal's delicate texture and coolness.

Holding the barrel up to his eyes, Beta squinted as he examined the bore. The rifling was perfectly uniform in depth and the helix angle was precise; the expense was indeed worthwhile.

The other components in the bag were also taken out one by one: a Savage 110 Elite Precision Rifle receiver that had undergone an extreme lightweight modification. This competition-grade weapon, known for its ultra-long-range shooting accuracy, had been completely transformed.

The original hollowed-out lightweight stock has been replaced with a metal tube angled at 15 degrees, and the bolt mechanism has been integrated into the receiver. The surface of the metal tube has a matte finish, with only a release button at the end.

He pressed the button, pulling the metal tube smoothly backward, causing the entire bolt to complete the loading action. The mechanical sound was crisp, like the meshing of clock gears.

The grip has been redesigned into a cylinder covered with non-slip rubber, providing a smooth and stable feel.

Prying off the anti-slip pads covering the grip reveals a hidden slot—a concealed compartment designed for the detachable trigger. The entire trigger assembly can be stored inside the grip, transforming into a harmless metal tube.

He picked up the 660mm titanium barrel and fitted it seamlessly into the modified receiver. The barrel threads clicked perfectly into place with the receiver interface, producing a pleasing "click."

He took a stopper out of the bag, screwed it onto the muzzle, and completed the initial assembly of this "invisible killer".

After this modification, the weapon has been completely transformed. It is now a medical device that is not commonly seen in daily life, but would never arouse suspicion: an elbow crutch.

The titanium alloy barrel forms the support rod, perfectly mimicking the texture of medical equipment. The angled metal tube bends precisely into the shape of an elbow rest, and the cylindrical grip, wrapped in a non-slip rubber sleeve, is perfectly ergonomically designed. Even the muzzle plug looks remarkably like the non-slip rubber pad at the bottom of a cane.

Every detail of this "medical device" is meticulously crafted. Even placed in a hospital's rehabilitation equipment room, no one would doubt that it is a high-performance weapon capable of precise shooting.

Beta gently leaned on the "elbow crutches" and took a few steps, his movements as natural as those of a real rehabilitation patient.

Beta held the weapon disguised as an elbow crutch in front of him, his fingers slowly tracing over every meticulously designed detail.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, a hint of admiration in his smile. Professional tasks should be left to professionals.

That eccentric "anti-alien warrior" truly possessed remarkable skill in weapon modification. Beta gently tapped the metal tube, listening to the subtle echoes emanating from within.

Beta took out another seemingly ordinary elbow from his bag, pressed the release button with his thumb, and with a "creak" as the metal parts rotated and separated, a specially modified ultra-long-range scope and a silencer appeared.

He picked up the uniquely shaped scope, lightly touched the metal button on the side with his fingertip, and four pins popped out, perfectly matching the interface on the previously assembled "elbow."

Beta unscrewed the muzzle plug, aligned the silencer threads with the barrel, and the metallic scraping sound as he rotated it was particularly clear in the empty warehouse.

The anti-slip rubber sleeve was peeled off, revealing the hidden trigger slot.

As the trigger assembly clicked into place, the weapon completed its transformation from a medical aid to a deadly weapon. Beta pressed the release button, the metal tube slid smoothly, and the mechanical sound of the bolt chambering was crisp and clean.

He stepped onto the workbench with his left foot and steadily set up the assembled weapon. His right hand gripped the handle covered in non-slip rubber, while his left hand supported the bottom of the barrel, the gun resting naturally on his bent left knee.

Through the high-powered scope, a crawling spider was clearly visible in the crosshairs on the wall at the other end of the warehouse.

“Fuck”
-
"Fuck!"

Michael gritted his teeth and cursed, his right hand pressed against his aching right side. Although the gunshot wound from 4332 meters away had healed, it had left permanent damage to his muscle tissue. Now, whenever he turned or bent over, he could feel the muscle fibers being pulled and strained.

But the physical trauma was far less devastating than the blow of his career collapse.

He lost his enviable job. The lucrative position at a top security company not only offered a high salary, but more importantly, it allowed him to walk the line of danger while remaining safe.

And now, everything is ruined.

The failure of the Charles de Gaulle Airport mission triggered a chain reaction, like dominoes falling.

The European Union's security personnel rating committee ruthlessly demoted him from the highest "AAA" level to the disgraceful "F" level. This level is usually only awarded to doorkeepers of private estates.

Michael knew perfectly well that his former employer was behind this, but he didn't know what methods they had used.

The termination letter came as no surprise.

Now without a stable, high-paying job, Michael is mired in financial trouble. Mortgage payments and credit card bills are piling up, and his bank account balance is shrinking alarmingly every day.

He stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing at the Porsche 911 in the garage. If he couldn't find a new job by the end of the month, he would have no choice but to sell these luxury items, return to his musty, cheap apartment, and become that penniless young man again.

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Thanks to motoant for the donation.

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(End of this chapter)