Once the dealer's finished saying his piece, Voodoo grunts in acknowledgement and strokes his chin with his thumb and forefinger.
"'cept if it's as accurate as you say it is, it's gotta be heavy as hell to manage the recoil. Add that onto the bulk of the thing, and just how're you supposed to move fast with it under fire, or manage carryin' it more than a few miles? Magazine looks too small for sustained suppression, and there's no quick-change mechanism for the barrel, not to mention the rounds - five-five-six is okay for a light MG, but for a sniper rifle I wouldn't trust my life to anything less than seven-six-two. No backup iron sights, either, so if the full-auto throws the scope outta zero, you're fucked."
no subject
"'cept if it's as accurate as you say it is, it's gotta be heavy as hell to manage the recoil. Add that onto the bulk of the thing, and just how're you supposed to move fast with it under fire, or manage carryin' it more than a few miles? Magazine looks too small for sustained suppression, and there's no quick-change mechanism for the barrel, not to mention the rounds - five-five-six is okay for a light MG, but for a sniper rifle I wouldn't trust my life to anything less than seven-six-two. No backup iron sights, either, so if the full-auto throws the scope outta zero, you're fucked."
He's quiet for a few moments.
"What'd Ratchuk put down for it?"