Foreign Weapons and Obscure Builds V3

Southeast Traders Apparel Swag Store

Miles

Ninja
Site Supporter
Kalash Klub
Jul 20, 2016
8,384
46,778
113
NW GA
Beryl is up for sale. $1600
Beryl Gen 1 rail alone is $100, included with the rifle.

 

Bigigloopt2

Meme boojahideen
Kalash Klub
Oct 31, 2019
7,908
46,014
113
Earth
This is so epic.

Girsan: “I think what everyone wants right now is a classic, over-priced High Power made by low paid Turkish children.”

SA: “I bet we can totally screw those Girsan f***ers by up-pricing our “higher quality” model made by underpaid Brazilian children.”

FN: “Watch this shit. Surprise MFers!!!”
Bingo! I love it
 

AC-130 Above

WTB: SVT-40
Kalash Klub
Oct 14, 2019
8,045
37,497
113
Newnan
Zip code
30263
I thought they just wanted specs on the gun not specs on what im going to do to it. Figured it didn't matter what length I made it since it'll be a SBR. I mean if you had a AR SBR'd you could technically pop any kind of barreled upper on it at anytime so didn't think that info mattered oh well
 

Red Squirrel 556

Street Justice Department
Site Supporter
Kalash Klub
Sep 24, 2020
6,604
33,600
113
Fayette
Carl knew that a young whippersnapper was roaming the woods and today would be his day. As his hearing aids picked up the snap of a branch off in the distance, Carl froze, then slowly unslung his sporterized K98. Another snap, much closer this time, revealed to Carl that the young whippersnapper was closing in on him quickly. His heart began beating faster and he could feel an erection growing in his Duluth Trading Company khakis, probably from the little blue pills he took the night before. Carl stabbed his cold fingers into his Uncle Mike's nylon holster, fighting to grasp his 1911. As he drew, his arthritis riddled hand racked a round of .38 Super into a previously empty chamber. Carl spotted a quick movement in his peripheral vision and fired a shot. The sheer force of the fireball leaving the barrel rippled the wrinkles across his face and he felt himself losing consciousness as his pounding heart pumped his entire blood supply into his turgid member. As his vision quickly became black and the world around sunk into silence, he lifted an unheard prayer for help, terrified that his .38 Super had not hit its mark.

CoconutBoi69 knew the time had come. He'd spent the last of his stimulus checks upgrading his battleship grey scorpion evo with all the Gucci parts he needed to smoke any opposition in his path. It had been about 6 months since the news got weird, Combloc Market was down, no more Tik Tok... the end was definitely near. The time had come to claim the long stretch of open woods down by that old cabin. As he stepped out of his Suburu Impreza, the morning light warmed his face, in the distance a lone bird sang a somber song. "Great day for a revolution" he thought. As he crept towards the cabin quietly, his mind wandered to thoughts of steel targets hanging all around the woods, and the thoughts of the freedom of being able to "train" any time he wanted. But this was more than that, this was the beginning of a new era. The base of operations. The start of something real. Movement triggered his senses, and he raised his trusty S1 from the ready position held by his single point bungie sling, "Yeet Yeet motherfucker" his mind raced. Suddenly he heard a disturbance in the brush, the unmistakable sound of hook and loop velcro being ripped from its mate, and a short grunt, then a blast. A 130gr ball projectile hit him like a size 13 Jordan right in the sternum and knocked him to the ground. As he struggled to find a comfortable position against a tree, he felt his torso and waist growing warm and wet. "Dammit, I pissed myself" he thought, then he looked down at his aloha shirt and the blooming crimson pool in the middle, and the truth became evident.

"Shit, I knew I should've gone with the extended selector switch..."

Everything was warm and dark.
 

Red Squirrel 556

Street Justice Department
Site Supporter
Kalash Klub
Sep 24, 2020
6,604
33,600
113
Fayette
Carl knew that a young whippersnapper was roaming the woods and today would be his day. As his hearing aids picked up the snap of a branch off in the distance, Carl froze, then slowly unslung his sporterized K98. Another snap, much closer this time, revealed to Carl that the young whippersnapper was closing in on him quickly. His heart began beating faster and he could feel an erection growing in his Duluth Trading Company khakis, probably from the little blue pills he took the night before. Carl stabbed his cold fingers into his Uncle Mike's nylon holster, fighting to grasp his 1911. As he drew, his arthritis riddled hand racked a round of .38 Super into a previously empty chamber. Carl spotted a quick movement in his peripheral vision and fired a shot. The sheer force of the fireball leaving the barrel rippled the wrinkles across his face and he felt himself losing consciousness as his pounding heart pumped his entire blood supply into his turgid member. As his vision quickly became black and the world around sunk into silence, he lifted an unheard prayer for help, terrified that his .38 Super had not hit its mark.

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