Chapter 67: Firearm Permit
Thursday, August 7th 1030.
In the underground range of the Newport Police Headquarters, Abel stood with a near-perfect shooting posture as he calmly aimed his revolver at the target.
His breathing was steady, and his vision stable. Then, he squeezed the trigger and emptied all the bullets in the chamber one after another.
The youth slowly lowered the gun as his lips curled into a light smile.
He turned to look at the towering figure draped in tailormade garments standing behind him, and asked, "So? What do you think, Francis?"
A drop of sweat trickled down the side of Francis Digby’s forehead as he cast his gaze at the target dummy.
Five out of six bullets had hit the mark. Out of the five, one was a headshot, while the rest were body shots!
He then looked at Abel and asked, "It has been, what, only two weeks since you first took up firearms? That’s correct, isn’t it?"
Abel had a slightly smug expression on his face as he shrugged. "Yes, something like that."
Francis couldn’t help but shake his head, heaving a sigh. He turned to the youth and smiled warmly, "This is not only the result of your Hallmark but also your own hard work, Abel."
He then retrieved a set of folded documents from his coat’s inner pocket. Then, he handed it to Abel, "Congratulations! You are now, officially, an owner of a firearm permit, signed by the chief constable."
Abel couldn’t help but smile brightly as he received the documents. "Great!"
The first one was the firearm permit signed by the chief constable of Newport Police, just as Francis had mentioned.
It contained the permit number, his full name, residential address, and occupation which was stated as a security consultant for the Kensington & Blythe Commercial Trust.
Furthermore, the type of firearm registered was the classic 6-shooter revolver. Additionally, the purpose of ownership was stated as official duties.
It expired two years later, upon which he would have to apply for another one again. Finally, there was the official stamp of the Newport Police and the signature of its highest-ranking officer.
The second document was the letter of authority—also signed by the chief constable—which allowed him to get involved in police cases that were likely supernatural in nature.
"So I finally passed the evaluation, huh!" Abel felt greatly excited.
Now, he would finally be able to own a firearm. This meant that he was one step closer to beginning his investigation of the cursed coin.
Until and unless he was completely sure of his safety—both physically and supernaturally—he would never go anywhere near the immediate origins of the coin, which was the pawn shop that the previous Abel had bought it from.
"Indeed, you have." Francis smiled warmly and offered a handshake. "At long last, you are finally ready for your initiation mission."
Abel firmly shook the man’s hand, his expression gradually turning solemn. "I understand," he said with a nod.
"Let us make our way to the club," said Francis in the same gentle tone. "The Commander awaits us there. He’ll provide you with the particulars of your first mission."
He then added with an encouraging smile, "Well, Abel, now that you’ve completed your firearm and basic combat training, you will also be issued standard-issue firearms and melee arms."
Abel’s eyes lit up. "You mean... they’re ready?!"
"Indeed." Francis let out a light chuckle. "The Commander shall see to that himself. Come, let us be off."
...
The Society for Natural Philosophy.
In a private cigar lounge on the second floor of this establishment, all the team members of the Security & Special Operations team had gathered.
Of course, as always, the ones guarding the other containment sites were not present—they rarely were.
Abel and Francis had just arrived at the club and taken their respective seats.
The Commander of the team, Grade 2 Occultist, Hugh Preston, sat across from Abel with a cigar in hand.
He took slow drags and exhaled to the side, gazing at the blue-eyed youth with a knowing smile, "Are you ready for your weapons then?"
"Of course, I am!" Abel grinned.
He had already told the Commander the type of firearm and secondary melee weapons he would like to wield going forward.
As such, Hugh, being the leader of the team, had taken it upon himself to deliver the best quality items to Abel.
He had done the same for every team member who came before Abel, even Emily Thompson.
To Hugh, the members of the Security & Special Operations team were more than just work acquaintances. They were like family to him, people he could trust with his back.
He turned to George who was standing behind him and nodded. Then, the lanky fellow came forward and placed a small dispatch box on the mahogany table.
Then, he unlocked and flipped it open, revealing the contents to the youth.
Abel’s eyes shone like the brightest stars when his gaze landed on the weapons inside the box.
"Take a look at this beauty." At the same time, George carefully drew the revolver from the box and started to explain, "Custom job. Six chambers, precision-machined. Not something you’ll find in any old shop."
He presented the weapon to Abel, and as the youth grasped it, he continued speaking, "Balanced weight, reinforced steel frame, and a smoother cylinder rotation than most standard models.
"Notice the grip, Abel. That’s walnut, hand-carved, fits the palm like it was made for you. And mind you, it was."
With a broad smile on his face, Abel thumbed the hammer back with a faint ’click’.
"The trigger is light," George continued. "You barely need to think before it fires. Perfect for quick draws or when matters turn a touch... unpleasant."
Abel finally set the gun aside, placing it on the table after admiring it for a good minute. Then, he turned his attention to his melee weapons—something that he had chosen after deliberate consideration.
George retrieved the daggers from the box. He drew one from its sheath with a smooth motion, and explained, "These are, what we call dirks. A matched pair, mind you."
He handed it to Abel and continued, "Short blades, yes, but not to be underestimated. Army officers carried them when pistols failed. They are useful in close quarters, especially when one cannot afford the clumsiness of a longer blade."
After giving a brief presentation of the weapons, George drew back, taking his position behind Hugh.
The Commander gazed at Abel’s fascinated expression and chuckled in amusement, "I take it the weapons are to your liking?"
"Sir..." Abel could cry tears of joy. "They are perfect. Thank you so much!"
"I’m glad." Hugh nodded, smiling gently.
His expression slowly turned solemn as he retrieved a paper file containing several documents and placed it on the table, pushing it toward the youth.
"Now then, it is time you were briefed on your initiation mission."