Shotgun prompt

"You're sending me out on another mission? For crying out loud, I just got back from my last one!" Carson moaned, his injured leg cramping up again at the thought of more running.

"Relax, kid, this one won't be as rough... for you, anyhow," Sgt. Mason replied, eyes glued to the screen, keeping a watchful tab on the other operatives in the field at the moment. "The mission this time is going to have you disguised as a mobster. You need to kill the mob boss and get out before his buddies find you. Or, you can fight them and kill them, too. Chances are, when you kill the big guy, they'll just re-elect another kid for the position anyhow."

"...Got it," Carson said, relieved that the mission was so easy. Mobsters loved using guns and knives, and guns and knives were Carson's pure specialty weapons. It wouldn't be any hassle.

"Oh yeah, and the weapon you've gotta' use is this baby," Mason continued, gesturing with his head over to a shotgun laying on the table.

Carson looked the gun over. It was one of those new installations - a military-grade, automatic-reloading, double-barrel shotgun, with a clip that held twelve shells, and an extension clip that held ten surplus shells in the event that one ran out of ammo. Accuracy and spread range were a well-tuned and deadly combination on this gun, the spread reaching about twenty feet of effectiveness, and the accuracy measured down to the tiniest detail. And it was silenced - something that Carson had always found hard to accomplish on shotguns. The perfect cannon of death, with no more noise than a simple breath of smoke from the gun's barrel.

Carson nodded approvingly. Once again, Mason had impressed him with his foresight.