Prism Launch

A spent brass rifle casing lay horizontal on the sunlit cedar bench, rolled flush against a forgotten glass lens cap. An idle barrel with zero propulsion? That's practically begging for an intervention. Bracing my heeled boots into the splintered wood grain, I lined up behind the casing's primer end, checked my stance, and delivered a swift, precise forward kick. The metal shell shot straight forward across the grain, colliding cleanly with the rim of the lens cap with a bright, ringing ping before tumbling off the edge into a bed of soft dry moss below. Ballistics locked, sector cleared for afternoon maneuvers!