>Black
>Nothing but black for weeks, sometimes months at a time
>Honestly I don't mind
>I am a rifle
>My duty is to be ready for whenever my shooter needs me
>Besides I can still hear things
>Sometimes I can hear footsteps
>Sometimes I can hear talking
>It's hard make out any of the words though
>Being stuck in this case, in a closet, behind all these clothes muffles the sound a lot
>Wait, I can hear more talking now
>It sounds like my shooter is talking with some one
>Most likely his wife
>It's getting louder now
>It sounds like my shooter is saying the same word a lot
>Bam? No...band?
>My shooter likes playing loud music, maybe that's what they're talking about
>Now they're shouting
>This is odd, they don't usually argue like this
>It sounds like he's saying “Ban” now
>They might be arguing about me
>My shooter's wife never liked me
>Especially after she found out I was a geist
>Maybe that's why I spend so much time in here
>It sounds like the shouting stopped
>I hope they've calmed down
>Getting so emotional can affect your shooting ability
>I hear the closet door open and feel myself getting moved around
>I hope he's not taking me out now
>I don't like the way his wife looks at me
>It feels like we're walking out the front door
>I can see spots of light through the hard case which means it's light enough to go shooting
>I hear him open a car door and he sets me on one of the seats
>I hear him open and close another door, start the engine and begin driving
>Something about this feels wrong
>Every time he takes me shooting he lets me out of the case once I'm in the car and out of sight of his wife
>Also he always takes a few trips to get all his range gear into the car
>This time he took just me straight to the car and now we're off
>His music is noticeably absent too
>Something is very wrong
>Should I force the case open and come out now?
>No
>I am a rifle
>If my shooter needs me he will get me out
>I will stay here until my shooter needs me
>I feel the car roll to a stop
>That was quick
>If we were heading to the range it should have taken much longer
>There's too much wrong with what's happening
>In a flash of light I'm back in my human form
>As my case is forced open I fall into the back seat
>”Sir! What's going on?”
>My shooter is hunched over in the drivers seat with a bewildered look on his face
>His hands are up by his head as if to protect himself
>All he does is stare at me
>He almost looks...scared
>I look past him and see we in the parking lot of a police station
>After a few more breaths he finally regains his composure
>In a very low voice he says “Rifle, get back in your case”
>”Why are we at the police station?”
>”Get back in your case, NOW!”
>I know what happens to guns turned in to police
>”Why did you take me hear!?”
>”I can't-”
>He cuts himself off and looks at the floor in shame
>”Last month congress banned the ownership of firearms with weapon spirits. This is the last week to turn them in.”
>It feels like all my oil just dried up
>”Look, I'm sorry but I have my family I need to take car of.”
>I really am not worth anything to him
>”Besides it's not like I have any use for ar15s or-”
>I stop listening to him
>The door next to me won't open, it must have a child lock on it
>I raise my fist and punch through the window next to me
>It doesn't even hurt
>My shooter is now-
>No
>As a rifle it's my duty to protect and serve my shooter
>And it's his duty to protect and take care of me
>If this man is not willing to protect me he is not my shooter
>And I no longer serve him
>The complete stranger in the car with me screams incoherently as I climb out the window
>The man is now getting out of the car and running into the police station
>I need to get out of here as fast as possible
>I pick a direction and start to run