Texas Concealed Carry Law And You - Let's Read Monster Hunter International

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Idran: Jan 13, 2005; Grimey Drawer

Liquid Communism posted:

Does smelting count? Hell, even meteoric iron gets melted coming through the atmosphere...

I mean, if you're going that far, all iron on Earth has been molten at least once. :v:

# ? Apr 8, 2018 19:27

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# ? Jun 5, 2024 13:23

Drunken Baker: Feb 3, 2015; VODKA STYLE DRINK

Is "puff" an outdated 80s homophobic slur in America like it is here in the UK?

# ? Apr 9, 2018 11:54

Proteus Jones: Feb 28, 2013

Drunken Baker posted:

Is "puff" an outdated 80s homophobic slur in America like it is here in the UK?

Not that I can recall in high school. It was typically all "Homo" or "human being", back then.

# ? Apr 9, 2018 12:52

Choco1980: Feb 22, 2013; I fell in love with a Video Nasty

I guess creampuff still is used like wimp here, but mostly puff is used in reference to smoke or breathing or what have you.

# ? Apr 9, 2018 13:43

chitoryu12: Apr 24, 2014

Depending on your age, it also makes you think of Puff the Magic Dragon.

# ? Apr 9, 2018 14:45

The_White_Crane: May 10, 2008

Drunken Baker posted:

Is "puff" an outdated 80s homophobic slur in America like it is here in the UK?

Wait, what? I never heard that one. What part of the UK? Closest I ever heard to that was "poofter".
And I heard a lot of homophobic slurs. :gay:

# ? Apr 9, 2018 14:47

Darth Walrus: Feb 13, 2012

�Poof� is definitely a thing in the U.K., but I�m not sure I�ve seen �puff�.

# ? Apr 9, 2018 15:00

chitoryu12: Apr 24, 2014

quote:

Over the last week I had become very familiar with the compound. There was the two-story office building/fortress, and several smaller buildings that served as barracks, classrooms, workshops and armories. A few hundred yards away was the hangar, housing one medium plane and one strange-looking helicopter of foreign origin. Behind the asphalt runway, just far enough away so that the noise would not be distracting, were the shooting ranges. Bulldozers had pushed up huge berms of red clay soil to serve as backstops. A razor-wire-topped chain link fence stretched around the entire property, intimidating and sharp wherever it had not been overtaken with kudzu vines.

At that moment I was standing in front of a small group of other recruits on one of the shooting ranges. Ten yards away were five eight-inch steel plates, each one about a yard apart. Snugly tucked into my shoulder was the rubber butt pad of a slicked up Remington 870, pump-action, 12-gauge shotgun. The muzzle was kept at the low ready, and my trigger finger was extended safely along the receiver. I could sense the instructor standing behind me, holding the PACT timer right behind my head.

"Shooter ready?" he asked, voice slightly amplified through my electronic earplugs. The MHI-issued plugs were the most advanced that I had ever used. Totally comfortable, and wired into a communications net, they would block all sounds over a certain decibel level, while normal conversation was perfectly audible, even if slightly directionally distorted. I nodded.

"Stand by," the instructor said mechanically. I waited.

The timer beeped. This was the moment I lived for. In one fluid motion I deactivated the safety and pulled the shotgun into position. Leaning forward with my center of gravity one with the shotgun, I focused on the plates and willed them to be shot. I had no conscious thought of controlling the trigger. Having practiced drills like this thousands of times, the muzzle automatically sought out the plates. With each shot my arm pulled the pump without thought or hesitation. The barrel rose slightly only to settle almost instantly on the next plate. I absorbed and rolled with the heavy recoil of the double-aught buckshot. I knew that each shot had been clean even before the last payload of shot had impacted the steel surface. I lowered the gun as the last two plates fell with a clang.

"Holy poo poo." The instructor's voice was incredulous as he glanced at the electronic timer. It was designed to pick up the sound of each shot and digitally record it. It was a very handy training device. "One-point-eight-seven seconds. You did a Dozier drill in one-point-eight-seven with a pump shotgun and full power buckshot. That was unbelievable."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IyAoQBYUQEA

Keep in mind that Pitt is doing this a full second faster than that; set the YouTube video to x2 speed to see what it's like in the book. He says his personal best is 1.75 with one of his custom guns back home. Someone says that it's a fluke and to do it again, so Sam (the guy with the walrus mustache and cowboy clothes, that he said looks like Kenny's dad on South Park) sets him up. Despite dressing in a Stetson and with a gigantic belt buckle, Sam is a former Navy SEAL.

quote:

Somebody else pushed the button to activate the pneumatic target system. The five plates reset themselves with a hiss. I decided to show off a little for the crowd. Since the action was open, I quickly plucked a spare round of buckshot from the elastic sidesaddle mounted on the shotgun's receiver. I dropped it into the chamber, and instantly slammed the pump forward. Instinctively my support hand moved to the bandoleer of spare shells strapped across my chest. Grasping four cases, I palmed them under the loading port and rapid fire shoved them in as if my hand itself was a spring-loaded mechanism. Snick, snick, snick, snick. Four shells loaded in under two seconds.

It was a trick used by three-gun competitors. We would often shoot in long field courses involving rifles, pistols and shotguns. The shotgun portions sometimes consisted of twenty or even thirty separate targets. Since we were scored according to our total time, and since shotguns are low capacity weapons of five to nine shots (with some exceptions), the winners were the people who could keep their weapons loaded the fastest. Combine large groups of hyper-competitive type A personality gun people, and I guarantee you will see some amazing and creative ways to do things.

I heard another Newbie say something about a magic trick. Not magic my friend, just the result of practicing until my thumbs were a mass of nerve-deadened scar tissue. I tucked the shotgun back into the correct position, positioned my feet, and squared off against the targets. I indicated my readiness to Sam.

He leaned in close and spoke loud enough that he knew I would pick it up, but quiet enough that the rest of the class would not. His breath smelled of Copenhagen chewing tobacco.

"You're gonna have to show me how you do that loading trick."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lprcnmeql2Y

That's the loading trick. Of course Pitt is so badass that the instructors ask him for help on his first week.

Pitt's second run is 1.82 seconds, proving he can repeat it. The guy that was demanding he do it again is Grant Jefferson, his self-imposed nemesis. Grant is a handsome, muscular guy who looks like an underwear model with perfect hair descended from a wealthy New England family. But the real reason Pitt hates him is that he's Julie's boyfriend. Since Pitt inevitably has to bone Julie, one wonders what will become of Grant. Does he die or get transformed into a monster? Does he turn coward and run? Does he turn out to be secretly evil?

Sam decides to have Pitt take over instructing the class. Pitt explains that you need to shoot as if the gun is an extension of your body, rather than thinking about what you do. He uses Trip as an example, who pauses after every action he takes. Trip (whose real name is John Jermain Jones, or "Triple J"), is the token black guy of the group. He's a dreadlocked high school chemistry teacher (since it was a small school, also substitute band teacher and assistant football coach) who joined MHI after a voodoo priestess placed a curse on his small Florida town, forcing him to put down his zombified students with a pickaxe.

The next one he talks about is Holly Newcastle, a blonde stripper with huge fake boobs who hasn't yet told anyone why she ended up here.

quote:

As far as I could tell she had exactly zero experience with any sort of firearms, but she was coming along gradually. She really surprised me when it came to the class portion of our training; she had an amazing ability to soak up knowledge and monster-related trivia. She may have looked like the stereotype, but she was no dumb blond. I had no doubt that whatever she had done to get herself recruited by MHI, she had done very well.

"Holly, the shotgun kicks, but once you master the correct form, you learn to just flow with the recoil and it's no big deal. It's all about proper fit, and how you hold it. If you're doing it right it doesn't hurt at all."

"So what you're saying, Z, is that it's kinda like sex. If it hurts, you must be doing it wrong?" She smiled seductively and winked. I blushed. Everybody else laughed, including Sam the instructor.

"Pretty much." I had a sneaky feeling that Holly wanted me to help her with more forms than just her shotgunning. It's kind of a bummer that for a person with such a dark complexion my cheeks turned red so easily.

"Seriously though, fit is very important; we need to find you a stock that's a couple of inches shorter." I hurried along before anybody thought to make a nasty joke about that comment.

Pitt continues through the line. The recruits are as varied as a taxi driver, a narcotics cop, a librarian, and even a plumber (Pitt says you do not want to know what his monster encounter was). The number of recruits has dwindled day by day, with instructors making judgement calls as necessary to send recruits home or recruits quitting when they're unable to handle the training, so Pitt's group of 40 has now gone down to 20. Anyone who leaves is given an extremely generous severance check. Even Pitt considered quitting a few times, both from internal conflict over monster killing for fun & profit and struggling with PT due to his werewolf injuries.

quote:

Earl Harbinger sat with his feet up on the desk. In one hand he held the remote control for the slide show, and the other held a yardstick that he used to point out interesting things. The photos on the slide show were disturbing to say the least.

"There's many kinds of undead. Undead is basically a catchall term for any being that's scientifically dead, yet still animated. They range from your basic zombie, which is nothing more than a flesh-eating corpse, all the way up to your virtually invincible master vampires and pretty much anything you can think of in between. You'll need to know them all�their strengths and especially their weaknesses." Click. This slide showed a large number of chewed-up corpses littering a suburban street. It could have been in any town in the country. Some of the modest ranch-style homes in the background were on fire. "Undead are our bread and butter. In North America alone we average at least one incident involving them a month. Factor in South America and the Caribbean and we probably have a Hunter team working an undead outbreak at any given time. With your basic lower-level undead, the key is a swift response. They multiply like rabbits, and the denser the human population, the more danger there is."

Click. The next slide appeared to have been taken with a cheap disposable camera at a really bad angle. The subject was a woman lunging with filthy hands outstretched toward the unseen photographer. Most of her face was missing, and her lower jaw consisted only of exposed bone, but she did not appear to notice. Her eyes were wide and hungry.

"Zombie. The walking dead. Not very fast. Not very smart. They'll head straight for you, they never stop, they feel no pain, they never tire, and they never quit. Luckily they're about as creative as broccoli. The real danger is their bite, as the guy taking this picture found out. A single bite is infectious and the victim's destined to end up a zombie themselves. The worse the injury, the faster you die, the faster you come back. George Romero was an optimist. Yes, head shots work, but you've got to really damage their brains for a reliable stop." We had learned that oftentimes cultural and entertainment ideas about monsters had some basis in fact.

Zombies come from all sorts of sources, from voodoo to mad scientists. Depending on the severity of the outbreak, PUFF is usually $5000 a head plus more for bagging the reanimator himself.

quote:

Click. The thing in the picture had obviously once been a person, but was now a hunched and rotting pile of rags and jagged edges and pointed teeth. The creature held what appeared to be a human leg in its mostly skeletal hand. It looked as if its lunch had been rudely interrupted by the flash of the picture. "This is a ghoul. Think of it as a super zombie on crack. Much smarter, much faster, way harder to stop. Luckily they're rare, which is a good thing because the one in this picture soaked up about two hundred rounds before it finally quit kicking. Head shots don't usually work, though they tend to slow them down. Your best bet is to hammer them until you break down their skeletal structure to the point where they just can't fight anymore. Then burn them to be sure. They're usually found around cemeteries, as they're carrion feeders. PUFF for a ghoul runs around 20K."

Click. "This is a wight. Toughest of the zombie family. One of old Europe's least popular exports." This picture took me by surprise. Sure the creature was as nasty as expected, appearing to be a normal man except for his horribly distorted visage, sharp, black teeth and red eyes, but this picture caught my attention because it was an action shot. Julie Shackleford was in the corner of the frame, with a long spear in her hands, keeping the creature at bay while it clawed at her. She was wearing some sort of strange body armor that I did not recognize. Her dark hair had been captured flying wildly around her head like a halo, and there was an intense look of fear and concentration on her face. She was frozen in midmovement, gracefully lunging toward the claws of the undead beast. It was like a cover shot from Sports Illustrated only this time the sport was Mutant Tag and the penalty for losing was painful death.

I studied her face. She was much younger, far too young to be doing what she was doing. Not as gorgeous and distinct then as she would turn out to be, but obviously filled with courage. She was wearing her glasses, but I could still see her brown eyes, and her teeth were a hard white line in her face. My heart knotted at the sight of her in danger, though obviously that incident must have turned out just fine. She was beautiful.

I'm such a sap.

Pitt can't resist asking for the story behind this. He explains that it occurred when Julie was 18, just before Halloween 1995 (Pitt estimated her age at mid-20s, which would put her at 24 in 2001 and thus confirm that this book takes place about 6 years before it was published). Wights paralyze whoever they touch, even through clothing, and it popped out of the ground during a ghoul hunt at the cemetery and paralyzed Harbinger and Milo. Julie jumped out and took on the wight with a spear until Harbinger recovered and lit it up with a flamethrower.

quote:

Sawing off a human head is harder than it looks. The body tends to flop around every time you hit it, and it makes a really nasty mess. Once goo gets on the handle of your knife, it gets even worse, and the next thing you know, your blade is glancing off of bones that you didn't even know were there. I grunted as I strained the blade against the rubbery flesh.

"drat it, Pitt, don't saw. This ain't gardening. It's killing. Chop it!" Sam shouted at me. Sam always shouted.

Responding to the order, I raised the heavy knife over my head and brought it down with as much force as possible, this time chopping completely through the tissue and breaking the vertebrae. The cadaver's head rolled off the table and landed on the floor with a damp thud.

"Much better!" the instructor bellowed. "See that, class? Don't screw around with them. There are some things that don't quit until you take their heads off. If you have got to do it, do it quick. Solid whack like you're chopping wood. Don't pussyfoot around. And remember the fresh ones squirt more!"

Obviously, you need to get your class used to chopping up poo poo and staking vampires. They usually save this until the end of training, since most recruits have washed out and that's fewer bodies you need to wrangle up from medical schools. They hold these classes in the Body Shack, a refrigerated room near the hangar.

quote:

"Next team. Newcastle and Mead," Sam said to Holly and Chuck, the next people in line, as Milo used a hose to spray down the floor. Several of the other Newbies had lost their lunch on this exercise. Mingled fluids coagulated around the central drain.

Placing the gore-splattered knife on the table, I stumbled away to wash my hands. They were shaking badly and I felt a strong urge to vomit. Trip was already at the sink scrubbing furiously.

"Dude, that sucked," he hissed.

"Next time I stake, you chop," I replied.

"Hey, you called heads. Not my fault."

"At least it wasn't the Gut Crawl."

He frowned at me. "Come on, man, I'm already trying not to barf as it is, don't bring that up."

The Gut Crawl had consisted of a single Newbie wiggling through a long section of pipe filled with cow entrails. Between the dark, the smell, the heat of the pipe and the horrible squishiness of it all, it was probably the worst experience of my life, up to and including actually dying. Supposedly it had been a test of our ability to deal with disturbing surroundings and still keep our wits. Personally I thought it was Harbinger torturing us. Two of our class had quit rather than do it, and when I had been stuck halfway down that dark pipe, covered in slime and feces and intestines, I had envied them. One other trainee had made it halfway down the pipe, only to suffer a panic attack and lock up. All three of them had been given fat severance checks and sent home.

The Gut Crawl just sounds like something a modern extreme haunt like McKamey Manor would put someone through for signing a waiver.

Holly the stripper seems completely unperturbed by staking a corpse, which leaves everyone wondering just what she ended up doing to get invited to MHI.

quote:

"That wasn't so bad. Chuck got stuck with the head. Poor guy, he brought it on himself though," she said, flashing us with a wicked grin.

"How?" asked Trip, still washing his hands. I had news for him, no amount of water was going to make us feel clean after what we had just done.

"He always goes rock. Never paper or scissors. Dumb rear end."

They get the weekend off, but we cut to their next training session where Pitt is about ready to collapse after the last mile of the forest running trail, which Grant Jefferson gleefully calls him pathetic for. As the other newbies stumble off to sleep or throw up (Trip gives a jaunty thumbs-up because he's fine with running forever), Pitt collapses on a bench to rest. This invites Julie to take up a seat next to him as Grant strips off his shirt and begins practicing martial arts by himself in the yard.

quote:

"So . . . how long have you guys been dating?" I asked, trying not to sound jealous. I don't know if I succeeded.

"A couple months," she answered as she looked at me suspiciously. "Why?"

"Oh . . . I don't know. He just seems a little . . ."

"Arrogant?"

I paused, not quite sure how to answer that. "Uh, yeah, I guess. He just doesn't strike me as your type is all."

"And you know my type how?" she asked, studying me carefully. I swallowed, wanting to shout "Me." Thankfully she continued before I had to answer. "Yes, I know Grant comes off a little arrogant, but he really is a great guy. He's smart and ambitious. He was in Harvard Law School when we recruited him."

Figures, I thought to myself. "The CPA exam is way harder than passing the Bar," I muttered.
"What?"

"Uh . . . nothing."

Larry is really proud of being an accountant. As Pitt walks back to the barracks, he kicks over a trash can in his anger at not getting to date Julie because he's actually 12.

chitoryu12 fucked around with this message at 15:27 on Apr 9, 2018

# ? Apr 9, 2018 15:23

Choco1980: Feb 22, 2013; I fell in love with a Video Nasty

Wait, I thought he said earlier that the one brick building was the only permanent structure at the camp? Now they have barracks, aircraft hangers, a refrigerated morgue, etc etc

# ? Apr 9, 2018 15:40

chitoryu12: Apr 24, 2014

Choco1980 posted:

Wait, I thought he said earlier that the one brick building was the only permanent structure at the camp? Now they have barracks, aircraft hangers, a refrigerated morgue, etc etc

Temporary refrigerated morgue!

# ? Apr 9, 2018 15:43

System Metternich: Feb 28, 2010; But what did he mean by that?

It's all the same building, it's just really big

# ? Apr 9, 2018 15:48

Paingod556: Nov 8, 2011; Not a problem, sir

So is the Gut Crawl better or worse than the Hawg Innards Problem?

The Cow Spoke French posted:

The company scuttlebutt was right on target. In addition to the usual maneuvers, a night assault on a heavily defended dam redoubt was mounted. The attacking troopers advanced by crawling under low strung wires, while live machine gun bullets cracked and whizzed just inches over their heads. This was frightening enough, but matters were made worse by what they found themselves crawling through. The exercise became infamous later, known simply as the 'Hawg Innards Problem.' A local slaughterhouse had provided the army with fresh guts and entrails from animals they had butchered. These were spread liberally on the ground so that each man had to slither through them, becoming smeared with the slimy, bloody goo. It was a revolting and truly terrifying experience which none would ever forget.

Band of Brothers shows a tame version- in the day, with no MG fire.

# ? Apr 9, 2018 15:55

Somebody Awful: Nov 27, 2011; BORN TO DIE
HAIG IS A FUCK
Kill Em All 1917
I am trench man
410,757,864,530 SHELLS FIRED

chitoryu12 posted:

That's the loading trick. Of course Pitt is so badass that the instructors ask him for help on his first week.

I was wondering how long it would take for this to happen.

# ? Apr 9, 2018 17:46

sky shark: Jun 9, 2004; CHILD RAPE IS FINE WHEN I LIKE THE RAPIST

chitoryu12 posted:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IyAoQBYUQEA

Keep in mind that Pitt is doing this a full second faster than that; set the YouTube video to x2 speed to see what it's like in the book. He says his personal best is 1.75 with one of his custom guns back home. Someone says that it's a fluke and to do it again, so Sam (the guy with the walrus mustache and cowboy clothes, that he said looks like Kenny's dad on South Park) sets him up. Despite dressing in a Stetson and with a gigantic belt buckle, Sam is a former Navy SEAL.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lprcnmeql2Y

That's the loading trick. Of course Pitt is so badass that the instructors ask him for help on his first week.

Something to keep in mind is that Pitt is 100% an author insert & he does have a shooting background: http://monsterhunternation.com/about/

I don't know what his ranking was but he said he was an Expert in IDPA:

quote:

For the record, I consider myself decent with a handgun. I�m qualified Expert in IDPA, haven�t ever made Master because limited Vickers messes with my head in the classifier, and the times that I�ve tried USPSA, I usually score on par with the B class guys. I�ve taught basic defensive pistol classes for years, and I�ve gotten to take classes from, or assisted several really good top-notch, been-there-done-that instructors. I�ve had the opportunity to associate with and shoot with some of the best shooters alive (and gotten my butt correspondingly kicked). I just say that to illustrate that I know what a competent pistol shooter looks like.

# ? Apr 9, 2018 17:58

JUST MAKING CHILI: Feb 14, 2008

sky shark posted:

Something to keep in mind is that Pitt is 100% an author insert & he does have a shooting background: http://monsterhunternation.com/about/

This guy is full of so much poo poo.

# ? Apr 9, 2018 20:08

Liquid Communism: Mar 9, 2004; коммунизм хранится в яичках

I'm not sure if he's worse or better than Laurel K. Hamilton's Anita Blake as far as author self inserts go.

# ? Apr 9, 2018 20:14

Samizdata: May 14, 2007

Liquid Communism posted:

I'm not sure if he's worse or better than Laurel K. Hamilton's Anita Blake as far as author self inserts go.

Here I was having fun, and you had to go ruin it with Anita "So tight, so wet" Blake. Loved them early on (to the point of having some personally autographed paperbacks), and slowly had to run. Run so far away...

# ? Apr 9, 2018 20:27

chitoryu12: Apr 24, 2014

quote:

"What're you doing?" Trip asked me as he entered our tiny barracks room. The windows were open and loud insects chirped and whistled in the darkness outside.

"I don't know," I answered honestly. I was sitting on my bunk, suitcase open on the floor in front of me. My right hand ached from the impact it had taken an hour earlier. "Thinking about packing, I guess."

"You didn't strike me as a quitter," he said simply. "That was an accident with Green. You didn't mean to hurt him. Milo says he'll be out of the hospital in a week. It's just his collar bone and a concussion."

"I only hit him once."

We had been practicing going hands-on. Never a good choice against a monster, but a necessary skill to have nonetheless. They had paired me up with Green, a muscle-bound former narc. It had gotten kind of competitive.

"Stuff happens," Trip shrugged. "Don't be a baby about it."

"Sam said I wasn't being aggressive enough."

"He probably shouldn't have said that to somebody who beat up a werewolf." Trip sat on his bed. "When Green wakes up, he'll be cool. It was an accident."

So yeah, Pitt had a bit of an accident in between paragraph breaks. He tells Trip about his history in underground fighting rings, but also that apparently his dad is a hardcore survivalist who prepared Pitt for life in a post-apocalyptic world. This led to a bit of a problem when he ended up in a fight against a guy who was rumored to have killed a few people in prison: he snapped and blacked out, and woke up with broken knuckles and blood up to his armpits as he was being dragged off the guy. Pitt chose to become an accountant because it was the most boring, straight-laced job he could think of to get away from that life.

Trip successfully convinces Pitt that he's probably not going to accidentally get mad and kill someone during training, so he puts his suitcase away and heads back to training.

This extremely uncomfortable Alabama summer day is also the day the remaining recruits get their monster hunting armored suits. To acclimate them to it, they're required to wear them for several days straight. Milo (wearing a Violent Femmes T-shirt and with his beard tied into two braids, which conveniently makes him look like Jeff Quinn of Gunblast) is adjusting everyone's suits to be arranged properly; they had a particular problem with Pitt due to his comically large 62-inch chest.

quote:

Grant Jefferson watched us smugly in our discomfort. He was wearing his armor, which had been tailored to suit him better. Holly had said that he was dashingly handsome, and even she, being so very jaded and cynical about men because of her background, found him very charismatic and charming. She told me that it was easy to see why Grant and Julie had hooked up. He was young, smart, good-looking, knew how to talk to people, and everybody loved him. I still wanted to kick his rear end.

On Grant's shoulder was a patch with the green smiley face with horns that was the unofficial company logo, which only Harbinger's personal team wore. We had been told that the other teams made up their own logos. The only other team logo that I had seen here at the compound had been a fire-breathing warthog that Dorcas had engraved onto her plastic leg. Grant wore the smiley face with pride�apparently it was a real honor to end up on Harbinger's team. I had learned that he had only been a Hunter since the business had reopened, but he had shown so much potential in training that he had been picked to fill a void on what was considered the best team.

Grant goes on about how the armor saved his life from what would surely have been a mortal blow from a golem, and Milo whispers to Pitt that the golem was only three feet tall.

Hey, do you like tech porn?

quote:

The armor was a modular system that could be configured by the user depending on what kind of threat we were going to face. A thick layer of stab-proof Kevlar covered the vital organs. Though not much heavier than regular thick clothing, the sleeves and pant legs had the same fibers sewn into the fabric. There was a neck guard that could be raised to resemble a turtle neck to protect against bites. Most of the threats we would face would involve teeth or claws, so unlike regular body armor, ours was designed for that rather than for bullet resistance. Milo informed us that the torso was rated the same as a traditional level IIIA bulletproof vest, able to stop most pistol rounds. There were pouches on the front and back designed to hold ceramic plates that could stop rifle rounds if the threat warranted it, and if the user didn't mind the extra weight. The system incorporated load-bearing gear and pouches for magazines, weapons, tools, medical kits, or whatever other useful things the Hunter might need.

There were two different types of gloves that came with the suit. One was a basic shooting glove that offered a small amount of protection, but still allowed good dexterity. And the other was a heavy armored gauntlet for when you needed maximum protection and just had to wade in and crush some heads. The heavy units could be attached to the end of the sleeves. There were also two types of helmets. The first was simply a modified hockey helmet, good basically to keep you from banging yourself in the skull when blundering around in the dark. The second, an armored monstrosity that looked kind of like a motorcycle helmet with a full visor and face shield, could be attached to the neck guard. With the heavy gloves and big helmet, a suited Monster Hunter could become a chew toy for a pile of zombies and come out gnawed on, but unbitten. Unfortunately for me, Milo did not have a helmet that would fit my enormous head so he had special-ordered one. Hopefully nothing would try to eat me before then.

The armor had lots of extras designed just for the people in our peculiar business. A CO2 cartridge was carried in the shoulder harness. In case of emergency it could be activated and the harness would inflate. Handy if you got dumped into deep water, because it was difficult to swim while strapped with piles of gear. My understanding was that Sam, our former SEAL, had insisted on that device. Each suit also had a GPS unit for navigation, which occasionally came in handy to locate a Hunter's body when the bad guys won.

The armor could be ordered in whatever color you wanted, as long as it was black, olive drab, or coyote brown. There was not a lot of use for festive colors in monster hunting, nor were there a lot of suppliers of heavyweight military strength Cordura in any other colors. I had gone with brown. Grant had gone with black. He probably thought it made him look tough. I thought he looked kind of like a silly version of Darth Vader. I took comfort in the fact that he had to be cooking in the sun right about now, though the bastard did not even give me the satisfaction of looking uncomfortable.

Level IIIA is the highest level you can get soft armor in. While it can stop a lot of pistol rounds, I've seen videos of surplus 7.62x25mm Tokarev going straight through it. One question I have is how the armor is actually constructed, since stab-proof and bulletproof vests require completely different compositions and the opposite weapon will easily go through it.

Grant notices that Pitt isn't paying attention to his tales of heroism and yells at him. Pitt snarks back, so Grant runs up and starts asserting his authority by poking him in the chest.

quote:

"I'm trying to teach you Newbies how to stay alive."

"Then teach. All I'm hearing is stories about how great you are. I came here to learn how to kill stuff, not to join your fan club."

He stabbed me again. "I'm a pro. You need to shut your stupid Newbie mouth. You think you know so much. I saw that video. You got lucky with that werewolf, and now you think you're hot poo poo."

"You had best take that hand off of me," I said. The rest of the class was gradually spreading out around us. The group could sense trouble brewing and were ready for some entertainment. Apparently I was not the only one in a foul mood.

"Or what?" And he poked harder. It was really kind of a useless gesture considering the armor could stop a battle-ax. With years of experience bouncing rowdy people from bars, I had a good sense of when somebody was itching for trouble, and Grant was itching bad.

"I'll take it off and feed it to you." I smiled at him and winked. That really seemed to anger him. Grant's movie star face turned bright red. He was as tall as I was, but not nearly as big or as strong. I had no doubt that I could beat him mercilessly.

Because Pitt is the cool hero that everyone loves, Milo promptly takes Pitt's side and warns Grant that he's about to commit "suicide by accountant". Grant calls Pitt a bitch and tells him to stay away from Julie, since Pitt's been real loving obvious about having the hots for her, which is what finally results in the class breaking up.

As they walk away, Trip talks to Pitt about the confrontation. He explains that while both he and Grant think the fighting is over Julie, Trip can tell that it's just because Grant is the former golden boy jealous at getting shown up by a newbie, while Pitt can't stand to lose a fight and antagonizes him rather than backing down. Plus, you know, slobbering all over his girlfriend.

quote:

"Thanks, Pastor Jones. I'll be sure to keep my pride and my slobbering in check from now on." I laughed. He was not that much older than I was, but somewhere along the line Trip had gained a lot more wisdom than I had.

"That's Father Reverend Elder Jones to you . . . heathen. Now let's get some lunch. We got the whole weekend off, and we're going to need our energy. I've got an auntie who lives in Wetumpka, up past Montgomery, and we're gonna have us a party. Have you ever had chitlins? Bona fide Southern delicacy."

"Can't say that I have. What the hell's a chitlin?" The way he said it, I didn't know if chitlins were a delicacy or a form of torture. Probably could go either way, depending on your perspective.

"Then you're going to have yourself one hell of a weekend, Z."

# ? Apr 9, 2018 20:34

chitoryu12: Apr 24, 2014

Also in case you wanted to see how big Owen Zastava Pitt's 62-inch chest is, this is a 60-inch chest:

# ? Apr 9, 2018 20:56

Choco1980: Feb 22, 2013; I fell in love with a Video Nasty

Wait a second book, put it in reverse...you can't just drop that Golems are in the monster pool without explaining what kind they are. Are we going by D&D rules where just any vaguely man shaped monster created by a wizard counts? Or is the the old school Jewish variety with "Life" etched in Hebrew on their clay foreheads, waiting to be smeared into "Death" to undo them?

# ? Apr 9, 2018 22:22

Cassius Belli: May 22, 2010; horny is prohibited

chitoryu12 posted:

Also in case you wanted to see how big Owen Zastava Pitt's 62-inch chest is, this is a 60-inch chest:

I was going to say, this sounds like the bra sizes listed out in bad porn stories, rattled off with a vague idea that big numbers mean something but no meaningful connection to reality. I looked it up, and Arnold Schwarzenegger at his biggest measured in with a 57" chest.

# ? Apr 9, 2018 22:43

Liquid Communism: Mar 9, 2004; коммунизм хранится в яичках

Samizdata posted:

Here I was having fun, and you had to go ruin it with Anita "So tight, so wet" Blake. Loved them early on (to the point of having some personally autographed paperbacks), and slowly had to run. Run so far away...

There's a game I play every time a new one comes out. Find it at the book store, open to a random page. If a sex act is occurring on that page, put it back on the shelf instead of buying.

I haven't bought one in a decade.

chitoryu12 posted:

Also in case you wanted to see how big Owen Zastava Pitt's 62-inch chest is, this is a 60-inch chest:

For comparison The Big Show has a 64" chest and is 7 feet tall:

# ? Apr 9, 2018 23:08

chitoryu12: Apr 24, 2014

Yeah, the more Pitt is described the less he looks like the guy on the cover art. He's the size of a "world's strongest man competition" powerlifter.

# ? Apr 9, 2018 23:12

Back Hack: Jan 17, 2010

chitoryu12 posted:

Level IIIA is the highest level you can get soft armor in. While it can stop a lot of pistol rounds, I've seen videos of surplus 7.62x25mm Tokarev going straight through it. One question I have is how the armor is actually constructed, since stab-proof and bulletproof vests require completely different compositions and the opposite weapon will easily go through it.

Impact gel body armor maybe? Works equally good with bullet and knifes with much greater level of protection but is 10 times more expensive than traditional body armor.

# ? Apr 10, 2018 00:25

Grenrow: Apr 11, 2016

So if we tally up all the bullshit things he's amazing at, Pitt is: 1) one the best 3-gun competitors in the world, 2) an amazing martial artist who kills people in underground pit fights and was so good at it that he paid for college with it, 3) has a physique rivaling world-class bodybuilders and powerlifters, 4) is a hardcore survivalist when he's not at his day job as a CPA. Did I miss anything?

# ? Apr 10, 2018 00:35

sky shark: Jun 9, 2004; CHILD RAPE IS FINE WHEN I LIKE THE RAPIST

His brother's in a world famous rock band, and he's like 6'7" or something.

# ? Apr 10, 2018 01:39

chitoryu12: Apr 24, 2014

The size of Pitt and his muscles will increase with every chapter. In the next he�ll be struggling to fit his head through the office door and need to wear custom uniforms made from bedsheets.

# ? Apr 10, 2018 01:49

PittTheElder: Feb 13, 2012; Yes, it's like a lava lamp.

Well I am now imagining Pitt as The Big Show, wondering why his love interest is more attracted to the well dressed, attractive, talented man she has an established relationship with.

# ? Apr 10, 2018 01:53

Grenrow: Apr 11, 2016

chitoryu12 posted:

The size of Pitt and his muscles will increase with every chapter. In the next he�ll be struggling to fit his head through the office door and need to wear custom uniforms made from bedsheets.

Turns out this was all just weird Hulk fanfiction the entire time.

# ? Apr 10, 2018 01:54

chitoryu12: Apr 24, 2014

PittTheElder posted:

Well I am now imagining Pitt as The Big Show, wondering why his love interest is more attracted to the well dressed, attractive, talented man she has an established relationship with.

Pitt in his work outfit:

# ? Apr 10, 2018 02:02

Choco1980: Feb 22, 2013; I fell in love with a Video Nasty

Don't forget the conflicting ethnic descriptions

# ? Apr 10, 2018 02:13

Darth Walrus: Feb 13, 2012

What Larry Correia looks like:

What Larry Correia imagines he looks like:

# ? Apr 10, 2018 02:20

Liquid Communism: Mar 9, 2004; коммунизм хранится в яичках

The resemblance is legitimately disturbing.

# ? Apr 10, 2018 03:20

Grenrow: Apr 11, 2016

Imagine how much cooler this book would be if it was just about Big Show wrasslin' monsters instead of Correia's self insert telling us how great he is.

# ? Apr 10, 2018 03:45

chitoryu12: Apr 24, 2014

Oh yeah, Big Show's chest size is 64 inches.

So that really is what our hero looks like.

# ? Apr 10, 2018 04:38

Vox Valentine: May 31, 2013; Solving all of life's problems through enhanced casting of Occam's Razor. Reward yourself with an imaginary chalice.

Something bad is gonna happen to Trip, I just know it. He seems pretty cool so far, I'd like to know his story more than Pitt.

# ? Apr 10, 2018 05:53

Drunken Baker: Feb 3, 2015; VODKA STYLE DRINK

Grenrow posted:

So if we tally up all the bullshit things he's amazing at, Pitt is: 1) one the best 3-gun competitors in the world, 2) an amazing martial artist who kills people in underground pit fights and was so good at it that he paid for college with it, 3) has a physique rivaling world-class bodybuilders and powerlifters, 4) is a hardcore survivalist when he's not at his day job as a CPA. Did I miss anything?

Hahahah. I remember the salad days of page 1 and I was thinking to myself, "Wow. For once Chitoryu is reading something that isn't the usual insane self-insert lunacy." And now here we are.

Grenrow posted:

Imagine how much cooler this book would be if it was just about Big Show wrasslin' monsters instead of Correia's self insert telling us how great he is.

No word of a lie I started work on a story just like this on Friday.

# ? Apr 10, 2018 08:54

chitoryu12: Apr 24, 2014

quote:

I was dreaming. I found myself in the same field as I'd been in during the strange dream that I had experienced in the hospital. Once again, the crop was lush and green, and my feet were bare. The air was cool and fresh, so I definitely was not in Alabama. The sky was darker and thick black rain clouds were collecting on the horizon. It looked like it was going to be a terrible storm.

The Old Man was there also. This time he was sitting on a small grassy mound. His hair was still wild and white, his cane sat on the ground next to him, and he was absently polishing his small round glasses on a white handkerchief.

"Hello, Boy. Welcome again here." His accent was still thick, reminding me somewhat of my grandparents on my mom's side of the family. A deep Eastern European sound, but not from any of the languages that I spoke.

"What am I doing here?" I asked, sitting down on the grass next to him. We watched the storm front approach. The wind was beginning to pick up and the crop was waving under the onslaught. "I thought you said that we wouldn't meet again unless I did something stupid and got killed."

"I was wrong. I new at this too," he answered. "Is closer now. So I help more easy."

"What is closer now?"

"You will see. It comes." He pointed at the storm roiling across the distant landscape.

"What comes?"

"The storm. I show you when can. I help you if can."

"Help me with what?" This was a confusing dream, not helped at all by my host's mangled English.

"The evil comes. The Cursed One brings. You will stop, if can. If not, time will die." He stated it as if that cryptic information was a simple fact.

"Who are you?"

"I told you. I am friend. I here to help." He spit on his glasses and continued to polish them. I noticed that he wore a small Star of David around his neck. His clothes were old and simple, and appeared to be sewn by hand.

"What's your name?"

"No one ask that for long time."

"That doesn't answer the question," I replied.

"My name not matter now, Boy. I am just Old Man."

As the storm approaches unnaturally quickly, Pitt suddenly finds himself over the MHI compound. He's aware of everything, in spite of the walls that should be blocking his vision. Along with seeing his own body sleeping below, he can see a huge underground level below the main building that none of the trainees are aware of.

quote:

. In the dark corners I glimpsed that not all of the other employees were human. What a strange dream.

Okay but....are you going to tell us what they look like?

quote:

In the women's barracks I was not surprised to learn that Holly Newcastle slept in the nude. As interesting as that sight was, I moved on. I was no Peeping Tom, or in this case a peeping ghost.

How chivalrous of you.

Pitt finds Harbinger, Julie, Sam, Grant, and Milo all holding a meeting on the top floor of the main building. As he focuses on them, he suddenly appears next to them. Their movements are cloudy and their voices are muffled, but he can still understand everything perfectly to help the plot move forward.

quote:

"No other teams are available. Just us and the Newbies. Boone's team's in Atlanta. They just finished a case, and they can meet us on the way. I can send them the schematics." Julie was speaking.

"We'll need extra men," Sam said, his voice echoing strangely. "Freighter that big is too hard to cover with just two teams. And we don't have an effing clue what we're facing."

"The Newbies aren't ready," Milo stated flatly. "Most of them would get killed if it gets hairy."

"Who do we have who's ready then?" Harbinger asked. "We can keep them in reserve. They don't need to be in front."

"Mead, Lee and maybe Triple J," Grant said. "Green could, except that oaf put him in the hospital."

"Newcastle can handle support," Milo added.

"Agreed," stated Harbinger.

"What about Pitt?" Julie asked.

"No way. He's out of control," Grant replied hotly.

"He's also the best shooter we have. I hate to admit it, but he's even better than I am," Sam said. The big cowboy banged the table for emphasis.

"Pitt's a hothead. He'll blow it," Grant retorted.

"He is a natural leader, however." Milo stuck up for me. "Put him in charge of the Newbie squad. The others will follow him."

"The protagonist is the best and I want him to personally massage my prostate!" said literally everyone but the guy we're supposed to hate.

As the rest of the team overrules Grant and heads downstairs to wake up the trainees, Harbinger suddenly jumps and stares right at where Pitt's dream ghost is standing. Pitt is suddenly jerked from the room into the sky by an apologetic Old Man.

The ground flashes by at thousands of miles an hour, over the dark ocean and night sky. He's landed on a beach at night, where a small lifeboat is moving toward shore under its own magical propulsion. Pitt can sense every living creature in the forest behind him going silent or running as the boat approaches.

quote:

"He comes," said the Old Man.

"Who is he?" my dream self asked.

"I know him as the Cursed One."

There were multiple shapes in the boat. Some appeared to be human, and were crouched low in the hull, red eyes scanning the beach, noses sniffing the air for prey. I recognized them from Harbinger's lectures. Vampires. The kings and queens of the undead, and from the vibe that I was getting from them, these were ancient and powerful beings. Master vampires. According to my lessons, masters were solitary creatures who had never been known to work together. Apparently the lessons had been very wrong. My dream was getting ugly.

Standing in the midst of the creatures was some thing. At first it appeared to be a man. Cloaked in a huge robe, only the reflection of what appeared to be a polished steel breastplate and helmet could be made out through the unnatural fog. The armor reminded me of the type that the conquistadors had worn. A sense of pure evil emanated from the cloaked being, an icy feeling of dread that I could feel piercing through my consciousness. I could not imagine how horrible it would have been if I had been there in my physical body instead of in this dream. As the image drew closer I could see a mass of withering blackness glistening between the creases of the armor and under the helmet. I could not comprehend what it was, but it certainly was not flesh. Somehow the twitching movement brought back memories of the boxes of live earthworms that my father used to fish with.

It looked almost like the famous painting of Washington crossing the Delaware, only this time featuring a host of evil undead, and some hideous monstrosity in the place of the great general. There was a name painted on the side of the craft. Antoine-Henri. The lifeboat glided up onto the sand with a crunch, and the vampires immediately sprang out and formed a protective circle around the thing. Some splashed out into the surf to cover that direction. There were six of them, both male and female, and they were unnaturally graceful and swift. They were evil and savage, but somehow beautiful at the same time. A seventh vampire remained in the craft with its master. If the thing was the commander, then that vampire was its lieutenant. I felt a seething hatred around me. It was coming from the Old Man, and it was directed at that seventh and final vampire in particular. It was a tall, pale thing with a hatchet face, slicked back hair, and a dark trench coat that it wore like a uniform. The vampire actually stood at attention as the armored monstrosity glided onto the beach.

When the armored thing touches the sand, the whole universe seems to jolt. An unexplainable shiver and feeling of unease emanates for hundreds of miles.

quote:

The lead vampire announced something in a foreign language. It took me a moment to recognize it as Portuguese, or a dialect thereof. I knew enough of the language to understand.

"Welcome home, Lord Machado," the creature crowed, bowing deeply. All of the other vampires forming the perimeter immediately bowed as well, the ones in the surf submerging themselves completely in the saltwater waves. It did not matter to them. They did not need air. The abnormal fog drifted up onto the beach, serving as the fanfare for the abomination before us. "Your kingdom awaits."

The thing was silent. It slowly rotated, taking in the sight. Beneath the cloak and armor I could not tell how it moved, but it was black and damp and slithery. It turned until it looked right at us. I could feel its gaze sweep across us, and if I had been in my body I would have been trembling. I could not see eyes, but somehow it knew we were there. Instantly the vampires jerked up and followed their leader's gaze, somehow locking onto the Old Man and me. I felt fear greater than I ever had before. Greater than when I had died. Greater than anything I could imagine. The creature did not want my life. It wanted my very soul and the soul of every person I had ever loved.

"Hello, Byreika." The lead vampire smiled, revealing pointed incisors. "My, it certainly has been a while, hasn't it? I see you brought a friend."

Well, that's awkward.

Giant winged with enormous horns and claws crash down onto the beach from where they had been silently circling above. The old man, Byreika, pulls them away, but Pitt can feel Lord Machado's power attempting to pull their spirits back. Pitt finds his soul unceremoniously flung back into his body and wakes up screaming.

quote:

"Owen! Dude! Wake up. It was a dream. Calm down."

Gasping for air and lying back on the sweat-stained sheets, it was only a dream. The storm. The Old Man. The Cursed One. The vampires. It was all a dream. Everything was fine.

"I had the worst nightmare," I gasped.

"No kidding. You were really freaking out. Everybody was. Just a couple of minutes ago everybody in the barracks woke up. Like the whole place was having a nightmare or something. I get the feeling that something really bad just happened."

Then our door opened. Earl Harbinger and Sam Haven were standing in the hall, both were suited up in full armor, bristling with ammunition and weapons.

"What's the racket?" Harbinger asked.

"Just a bad dream," I answered.

The Director of Operations frowned at me. He had felt the strange sensation as well. "Both of you. Grab your stuff. Get over to the armory and get suited up. We have a mission. Consider the weekend cancelled," Harbinger ordered, as he slung an ancient Thompson submachine gun over his shoulder.

"We have a ship to catch," grunted Sam, while twirling the ends of his mighty mustache. "Think of this as a field trip."

# ? Apr 10, 2018 14:08

Wapole Languray: Jul 4, 2012

Oh no, not Dread Lord

# ? Apr 10, 2018 14:40

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# ? Jun 5, 2024 13:23

Back Hack: Jan 17, 2010

We�ve got another thing to add to the list, our protagonist is the chosen one. Because of course he is. :nallears:

# ? Apr 10, 2018 15:06

The Something Awful Forums > The Finer Arts > The Book Barn > Texas Concealed Carry Law And You - Let's Read Monster Hunter International

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