Sarah checked and rechecked the HK 9mm USP. A gift from Mannix years ago, she made sure to keep it clean and in working order. Cleaning the weapon was soothing; as was shooting it from time to time. At the range, all you should focus on is the weapon, your stance, and the shooting. It was meditative.
The most recent sleeper “Racer Café” bill gun ban would make casual trips to the range a thing of the past. Annoying, but livable. She wondered how long it would take the kindred of the Emerald Domain to fix that little legal hiccup in their daily lives.
As she put the newly cleaned 9mm pistol away, Sarah stopped and touched a couple of spent brass she kept in their own foam box. The bullet casings were worn and dirty. Each one of them had a name on them. Zaman – the one who spent so much time burning her and enjoying it. Darzi – the one who caned her until she bled. The memory of her screams were renewed as Sarah thought about how she dealt with each operative.
It was all because of a game played between mortal and kindred. A game she hadn’t known she was playing within the greater game of cat-and-mouse.
Sarah smiled as she touched a single unspent 9mm bullet. Her own game was going well. “I got a bullet with your name on it, too.” Sarah rubbed the engraved name on the brass casing. She put the bullet in its dedicated spot, then went about cleaning up the rest of her gear.