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 Posted: Wed Feb 22, 2006 8:24 am
Mike walks up to the dusty old black door. He sticks a grimy key inside and opens up the shop. He turns the sign on the window around, and gets everything ready.
He goes into the back room to find a surprise.
"Arghh, a family of rats? Better call the exterminator."
He ignores them and grabs four rifles, setting them down near the open windows used for the shooting range. The wooden targets leaning against the wall are shot full of holes, the paint scratched off.
"Better repaint these targets.."
He takes out two small cans of red and white paint. He paints them both and hangs them on the fence outside.
"And we are open."
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Posted: Thu Feb 23, 2006 3:23 am
She pushes in, leaning in the doorway. Her eyes move over his stock, lazily. She saunters over to the cashier's counter, and slams a fat, custom semi-automatic on the table. "S'broken" She says, her voice swinging with impatience. "You the man to fix it?"
It's a custom job, probably hand-built by a gun collector or an off-duty engineer, compiled from various parts. The barrel's thick and modern, silenced. The stock is from an 1875 Colt, and the clip juts out the side and looks smacked together from many different parts. In spite of the fact that it's a Frankenstein, there is a sublime beauty to its chaos.
...and what's that, a blood stain on the inside of the trigger?
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