Sure, we bolters have a inferior weapon, but we use it with pride and the skill it demands.
We make our weaknesses our strengths.
We only have one bullet ready to fire.
Whilst everyone else blazes away with their autos we stand in our own
silence for just a split second longer to look down the barrel until the
feeling is right and the aim straight.
After the trigger is pulled our bullets are equal to any other. It goes where
we pointed it , nowhere else, and cuts away the strings from the puppets
that run in front of the cold black iron sights.
Then we pull back the bolt and burning, guilty copper flys free. It is the
perfect finish. It is the echo of the final beat of the hart we tore in two.
Then, when the bolt is pushed forward and we dive for cover, everything is ready again.
I love my bolter.
/psychopathic rant
Wow.... thats deep man. Awsome/
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