Moe's Gun Store

[Lord Oswyn Baratheon]

Malcolm entered Moe's gun store, hoping to get the necessary gear acquisition out of the way before finding a place to crash for the night and heading for the Camp in the morning.

[The Stranger]

A man wearing a once-white wife beater t-shirt and cargo pants with unlaced boots was leaning over a counter with his back towards the door. Just when Malcom thought this was a rather foolish thing to do, he heard the whiz of the servos on the combat drone which occupied a place in the upper right hand corner of the shop, twin-barrelled belt-fed auto-shotguns covered Tyler as he entered.

"Howdy," said the man, presumably Moe, of the titular "Moe's Guns." "What can I do ya for?"

[Lord Oswyn Baratheon]

OOC: Haha who's Tyler?

Malcolm eyed the drone with some disdain. He had no love for unmanned drones, as his entire squad had be slain by one. He turned his attention to who he assumed I be Moe.

"Looking for some hardware. Heard you were the man to see."

[The Stranger]

OOC: Sorry I get confused about whose who because your names aren't available.

"If you've got the cred I am," he said, putting a few drops of oil on a weapon slide, and then racking it. "What are you in the market for?"

[Lord Oswyn Baratheon]

"Pistol, biggest you got. Recoil ain't much of a problem." he said, raising his cybernetic arm. "Ammo, holster, body armor, and cuffs if you've got 'em."

[The Stranger]

"You some kind of low-rent Corpsec?" The man asked followed by, "You want automatic, or revolver?"

[Lord Oswyn Baratheon]

"Something like that." Malcolm answered evasively. "Revolver will do. Preferably double action." The merc figured that anything that needed more than six shots to handle would be getting the gatling gun.

[The Stranger]

The man sniffed, as if this was the wrong answer, "You want a Super Warhawk then. .460 Magnum caliber, five-shot revolver. Designed for dropping a moose."

Malcom wanted to ask, "What's a moose" but didn't bother. It was obviously some kind of big animal that needed shooting.

"What do you need in terms of armor? Concealment, or Assault?"

[Lord Oswyn Baratheon]

"A Super Warhawk it is then." Malcolm agreed, before considering the next question. He had never been the subtle type. "Assault, though nothing too bulky for a jacket. Don't suppose you've got any flashbangs bak there?"

[The Stranger]

"Of course." the man replied. He placed a black plate-carrier on the counter, "israeli, custom-ceramic. Stop anything up to and including 7.62. Obviously there's no hiding it." He pointed out, "Flashbangs we've got." He agreed. "You need anything bigger than a pistol? SMG, assault rifle? something like that?"

He turned around and placed a box marked "Warning: KEEP AWAY FROM OPEN FLAMES" on the counter.

[Lord Oswyn Baratheon]

"Perfect." Malcolm said, admiring the armor. "Nah just the sidearm will be fine." He had the heavy weapons in spades.

[The Stranger]

Moe snorted again, as if of the opinion that the man was making an error yet again. "Alright. How many rounds you want on that hand cannon? Box is fifty rounds."

[Lord Oswyn Baratheon]

"Just one box for the time being." Malcolm answered, awaiting the now familiar disapproving snort.

[The Stranger]

He received it right on cue. "You want standard metal restraints, or you want flexi-cuff?" The man asked.

[Lord Oswyn Baratheon]

"Gimme a few of the flexicuffs." he answered. He was familiar with them from his time in service and knew they'd be more than enough for his purposes.