Pete's Expert Summary
So, my human has acquired another piece of loud, brightly-colored plastic. This one, a "Nerf Elite 2.0 Commander RC-6 Blaster," appears to be a projectile-launching device. Its primary function is to disrupt the household's delicate tranquility by flinging small, foam cylinders up to 90 feet, a distance that encroaches upon several of my prime napping territories. While the "blaster" itself, with its noisy "slam fire" action and garish "tactical rails," is an offense to a sophisticated creature such as myself, the projectiles—the "Elite Darts"—show a glimmer of promise. They are small, light, and brightly colored, possessing the ideal characteristics for being batted into the dark, irretrievable spaces where all truly great toys eventually reside. The launcher is a crude delivery mechanism, but the payload might just be worth the auditory assault.
Key Features
- NERF ELITE 2.0 COMMANDER RD-6 BLASTER WITH 6-DART DRUM: This Elite Nerf blaster has a rotating drum with 6-dart capacity. Blast 6 darts in a row with this toy blaster
- SLAM FIRE: Launch 1 dart at a time, or unleash all 6 darts in rapid succession with slam fire action. This Nerf pump action dart blaster fires darts up to 90 feet (27 meters)
- INCLUDES 12 NERF ELITE DARTS: Comes with 12 Nerf Elite darts. Load 6 Nerf darts into the drum and keep the remaining 6 darts nearby for quick reloads
- TACTICAL RAILS, STOCK AND BARREL ATTACHMENT POINTS: Use the rails and attachment points to customize the foam blaster with Nerf accessories (each sold separately, subject to availability)
- FUN KIDS OUTDOOR TOYS: Nerf toys for boys and girls can be used for indoor or outdoor games for kids!
- GREAT GIFTS FOR BOYS AND GIRLS: Nerf blasters are awesome toys for kids and teens to enjoy fun, active play with friends and family
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The peace of the afternoon was shattered not by a thunderclap, but by a series of synthetic *thwips* followed by the soft *thud* of impact. I cracked open a single green eye from my regal perch atop the cashmere throw. The male human, crouched behind the sofa like a common alley cat, was engaged in some sort of primal conflict with the female human, who was using the kitchen island as a barricade. They were wielding these absurd blue contraptions, the source of the noise. It was a pathetic display, a war of clumsy giants. I flicked an ear in disgust and returned to my nap, dismissing the affair as another baffling, noisy ritual of the bipedal species. When a fragile armistice was finally declared (I believe it was brokered by the ringing of the food delivery person), a profound silence fell upon the living room. I stretched, my claws extending and retracting in a display of sheer elegance, and hopped down to survey the battlefield. The scene was littered with the detritus of their strange war: small, foam cylinders with cheerful orange tips. They lay scattered across the hardwood floor like fallen soldiers. I approached one with caution, my tuxedo-furred chest low to the ground. It smelled of plastic and desperation. My curiosity, a formidable force that has led me to investigate many a rustling bag and dangling cord, got the better of me. I extended a single, pristine white paw and gave the dart a tentative pat. It skittered. It shot across the polished wood, silent and swift, its movement an intoxicating blur of blue and orange. Oh. *Oh, my.* This was different. This was not the lumbering roll of a ball or the predictable dangle of a feather wand. This was the erratic flight of a panicked beetle, the desperate dash of a field mouse. In an instant, my sophisticated ennui evaporated, replaced by the pure, unadulterated instinct of the predator. I pounced. The large, loud "Blaster" is a tool for fools, a monument to human immaturity that I will continue to disdain from afar. But its ammunition... that is another matter entirely. These little foam darts are, I must begrudgingly admit, a marvel of prey-simulation engineering. I have since established a new patrol route, a post-conflict sweep to collect these "spoils of war." The humans think they are cleaning up their mess. They have no idea they are merely paying tribute to their king, leaving offerings at my paws. The blasters can stay, as long as the supply of these delightful little victims remains endless.