Grip the icy cold metal.
Feel the silicone grip.
Turn it sideways, inspect it. Grin at it.
Gently place down the cylinder object, hear it click into place.
Bring it back upright swiftly, lips form a small 'oh' of suprise...
Grip firmly the magazine, slam it up and inwards.
Gently drag the top of the device onwards, hear the all too fimiliar click.
A gentle motion with your right hand, a small sigh...
Click
Your gun is ready. Ready to kill.
Twirl the gun, grip it by the barrel- point the handle towards him.
Slowly lose the grip as he takes it.
Hammer clicks back- so many clicks, so many turns. The death is so mechanical.
A series of clicks, a series of switches, a series of understood nods and smiles and eyes.
One blank stare, one confused glance- one machine coming from your sleeve.
Three lead beasts entering three distinct, vital areas.
Three pieces of evidence.
Three people.
One casualty.
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