Damaged Goods Chapter 1: Piece by Piece

 Damaged Goods - Chapter 1: Piece by Piece

>The man behind the counter gives you a mildly concerned look.
>"You sure you want that one bud?"

"Yup, she's the one."

>"If you say so."

>After fumbling for the keys, he manages pop open the display and remove your new (well, new to you) handgun.

>You've been contemplating picking up one of the police trade-in 92fs from your LGS for a week now.

>After seeing Die Hard as a kid, you knew you had to had one, and you couldn't argue with the price. $200 pre tax was the lowest you have seen one go for, then again, she was in pretty rough shape.

>Extensive holster wear, knicks and scratched all over the place, no paint left on the sights... Poor thing looks like it was stored in a bucket of dirt in the police cruisers trunk. It was so bad that the shop didn't even both to clean any of it themselves.

>Even with all of the imperfections, you knew you had to have it. That 5 inch barrel and comfy ergos beckoned you.

>"You know, not many people actually have the patience to pick up old police guns these days, we've seen a few people sell these back to us at a loss. You sure you know what you are doing?"

>You have heard the rumors about problematic police trade-in's before, countless malfunctions and failures to fire even with nothing mechanically wrong with the gun. Some people have wrote it off as a product of abuse and neglect.

>Even though you have had your mind made up for a while, a salesman trying to talk you out of buying something still catches you off guard, causing slight hesitation before replying.

"Absolutely."

>"Alrighty then, your total is $214.00 after tax. Goodluck."

"Thanks..."

>After a short drive home, you start on your usual new gun routine. Making sure that everyone else is put away in the safe, you take the 92fs and place it on your work bench.

"Hey there, my name is Anon, I'm your new owner!"

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>You're met by... silence?
>Almost every gun you brought home practically jumped for joy after getting out of those display cases
>Or at least did a bit of stretching

"No need to be shy, I know you're a little rough around the edges at the moment, but I promise to clean you right up. I would just like to get to know you a little before hand."

>Silence again

"I understand, this may take a little getting used to. Tell you what, I'm going to go and change out of my work clothes and clean myself up a bit. Maybe we can talk after, yeah?"

>With those words you head out of the shop (aka, your spare bedroom turned workshop) and into your own bedroom. After a quick change of clothes and face wash, you head back to the work bench.

>Upon entering the room, you notice a woman sitting on the edge of the bench probably in her late teens or even early twenties.
>She is in much worse shape that you thought at first. Her dull black hair that fell around her shoulders was full of knots and frayed at the ends. Clothing tattered on the edges with many tears in them, the soles of her patrol boots barely hanging on; skin covered in patches of carbon fouling.
>Then there are all of the knicks and scratches on her, and that is only what you can see.

"Oh, good. I see that you are at least comfortable enough to show yourself."
>Still no response
>You put on a gentle smile, hoping to ease her a bit more, but soon you

notice her eyes are closed.
>Taking a few step closer to the bench
"Hey now, you can open your eyes, I promise I'm not THAT ugly..." you say jokingly.
>Still no response
"Do you have a name?"

>"N-no..."

>At least we are making a little progress, but why is she refusing to open her eyes?

"Is my shop too bright for you?"

>"I don't know..."

>What kind of answer is th-
>She finally open her eye's
>You are met with a pair of glazed over, milky white eyes, which seemingly look past you

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"Oh... right, your sights."
>A frown forms on her face as she casts her gaze to the floor
"Look, I'm going to get you back to 100% in no time okay? I promise."
>You place a reassuring hand on her slender shoulder, but this only causes her to tense up, winching slightly
"I treat all of my guns as if they were family. I don't know how they do it
at the PD, but things will be better here."

>No response, but she manages to give you a small nod before returning to her gun form in the blink of an eye

"Okay then, lets get started."

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>You may have never owned a 92fs, but you’ve seen enough videos on how to take one down that it almost comes naturally.
>Upon separating the slide from the frame, you begin to realize that a full tear down may be required. Carbon mixed with God knows what coats all of the innards of the poor Beretta. The trigger is gritty and it takes extra effort to cock the hammer one handed.
“Full tear down it is.”
>After a few minutes, you have your bench block as well as all of the assorted pin punches laid out
>Never having gone this far, you pull out your phone and begin searching for a full dissasembly guide.
>You can’t help but think of all of grief the others would give you for watching this “smut”
>But, now the real work begins
>As you begin taking your new Beretta apart piece by piece, you think back on the somewhat uncomfortable first encounter with her
>You really need to think of a name as well…

>You had to be a bit more rough than you would have liked in order to get everything apart, but luckily none of the neglect seems to have done any damage (physical at least).
>The mound of gunk under the extractor was the worst part, you’d be surprised if she was able to throw any brass at all towards the end of her run at the PD.


>After removing as much fouling as you could, you take another look at the sights
>Yup, completely gone, not even a hint of paint left
>Refinishing sights can be tricky business, as the slightest mistake results in an uncomfortable experience for the Geist involved.
>Most people simply slap model paint or nail polish, but these quick home jobs often lead to poor focus, limited vision or even lazy eyes in a few unfortunate instances you have read about.
“I’ll probably have to shell out some cash for this one”
>With how much you spent on her at the store, you can handle having a professional job done
>But now, it’s time for the next step.

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>The ultrasonic cleaner is finally warmed up and ready to go.
>According to the other girls, it’s not the most pleasant experience, but they can’t argue with the results.
>Being a 10L unit, you are able to fit every part in one go, less the springs of course
>The moment the “Start” button is depressed, large columns of black filth begin rising from the parts.
>You take this time to inspect the springs, half of which are showing some surface rust.
“Poor girl…”
>Her demeanor earlier is starting to make more sense now.

>You spent who knows how much time drying and relubing parts, but eventually she is all back together.
>You pick her up, and level the sights at the lamp on the other end of the room
“The Hell…”
>Taking a closer look at the rear sights, you notice flakes in the recessed holes.
>You grab a plastic pick and, very gently, prod at the flakes
“No fucking way.”
>The flakes begin to break away, revealing the original sight paint underneath
>Excited, you begin working away at the rest of the rear sights, as well as the front post
>It’s all there, and still in good shape.

>You clear your tools out of the way and set her back down on the bench
>”She has to be feeling 10x better now” you think to yourself
“Feeling better?”
>In the blink of an eye, she return to her human form
>To say she looks better would be a massive understatement, her hair is now shiny and flowing just past her shoulders, not a speck of carbon remains on her, but the scars and knicks are still present… yet her  eyes still remain closed
“I did what I could to clean up your sights, but I think you should be ab-
>Once again, she opens her eyes, but this time you are met with a set of steely bluish-gray jewels, boring holes right through you
>You choke on your words
“able to see okay now…”
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>She takes a good, long look at you before suddenly breaking eye contact
>Bringing her hands up to her face, she begins inspecting herself
>Checking her arms, legs, even holding strands of her own hair in front of her eyes

“Have your sights been covered like that for awhile?”

>Her head is now on a swivel, snapping all over the place, drinking in her surroundings
>Almost as if she is panicking

“Hey now, no need to be scared…” you say, taking a step toward her

>She almost jumps out of her skin, causing everything on the bench to audibly shake about
“Still me, the guy who has been working on you all night, remember?”

>She becomes a little less tense, audibly exhaling
>An awkward silence fills the shop
“...”
*tick*tock*tick*tock*
>You realize you haven’t bothered to checked the clock in hours

12:45 AM

“Oh… uhh, well hey, I have work tomorrow, I’m going to go and get myself around for bed. Feel free to explore the house if you’d like.”
>Without a word, she slowly lowers herself from the bench, making sure not to look you in the eyes, or even the face for that matter
>She takes a few steps, running her hand across the surface of the bench
“By the way, I think I have a name for you. What do you think of Sophia, hmm? Maybe call you Sophie for short?”
>That caught her attention
>Giving you a quick glance, you think you spot a slight grin, but only for a moment if there ever was one
“I’ll take that as a yes. I will make sure to check back in before going to bed.”
>Before exiting the shop, you stop to make one more comment
“And if you hear anyone else, it’s just the other girls.”
>You give Sophie a friendly smile before heading to your bedroom
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Shit, I did not mean to stay up this late… tomorrow is going to suck, but at least it’s Friday.

>Upon entering your room, you make a beeline for the safe

Hope they aren’t too pissed at me, they aren’t used to being cooped up in there for so long…

>A few swift keystrokes and the locking mechanism disengages

“Hey guys, sorry for losing track of time like that, she turned out to be much more work than exp-”
>You’re cut short by a swift elbow to the gut, forcing you to take a knee

>Without even seeing who it was, you can guess it was Katya, your Krinkov clone

“*gasp* yup, thanks for that… *gasp* definitely what I was hoping to have welcome me…”

>The sound of a dozen or so feet shuffle past you, with the occasional pat on the back and words of kindness
>Finally, a familiar hand appears in front of your face
>Taking it, your are practically hoisted back to your feet

“Thanks Anna… sorry for keeping you guys in there so long, you know how some new members of the family can be…”

>”No worries Anon, I know you didn’t do it on purpose.”
>”How is she doing anyway?”

>Anna, your 1903A3 always tended to be one of the more thoughtful and mature ones, although that can be expected of someone her age.
>She was one of the few you did not have to look down at to talk. Standing at about 6 feet, her gentle jade eyes always seemed to tell you exactly how she felt about any given situation

“She… well she is going to take a bit of work. She just needs a little time to adjust.” some uncertainty slipping out

>”Well, I’m confident you know exactly what to do. After all, this isn’t the first broken gun you’ve had to pick up the pieces for.” a bright, close-eyed smile on her face
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>Before continuing your conversation, you make sure to crack the door closed

“This time is different Anna, the poor girl seems scared half to death. I think she has only said one or two words to me.”

“I knew police trade-ins could be a little problematic, but I haven’t seen or heard of anything like this before. I’m just worried that I may be in a bit over my head here.”

>She contemplates quietly for a moment before placing her arms around your neck and drawing you into a close embrace, which you return

>”Hey… try not to get discouraged, okay? You’re no quitter, everyone here knows that. She is depending on you… I believe in you okay? Don’t give up, I know you never gave up on me.”

>She slowly releases you, running a hand down your arm giving your hand a quick squeeze before letting go.

>Her words, like usual, raise your spirits a bit

“Thanks for having my back.”

>”Same.” she returns with another smile

“By the way, think you could help keep everyone in check while I’m at work tomorrow? I think Sophie may not be ready to start interacting with the rest of the girls yet.”

>”Sophie, eh? That was fast.” she says tauntingly

“I figured she could use a little extra support early.”

>”Just teasing you Anon. Go on, you need to get ready for work”

>Anna slips out through the door,  closing it on her way out.

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>You struggle to stay awake under the hot water of your shower, but you pull through

>Throwing on some shorts, you go make a final check of the place before turning in

>Even after being locked up for so long, everyone managed to fall asleep watching M.A.S.H.

>You carefully step over the sleeping bodies to get to Michelle, your Mossberg 500 and your bedside gun

>You can’t help but chuckle every time you think of the moment she realized what the shorthand of Michelle was

>Who would’ve guessed that a shotgun would hate to be called Shelly?

>Placing your hand gently on the back of her neck so not to wake her, she instantly changes back to her rifle form

>You sneak back through the minefield of geists and gingerly rest Michele against your headboard.

>As promised, you head back toward the shop to check on Sophie, only to find her in the corner on the floor with her knees pulled up tightly to her chest.
>Sound asleep

>Scattered across the floor are opened history books, detailing the first encounter with the Matriarch, along with accounts of early conflicts between the pro and anti states in America.

>Odd, but after the day you had with her, you don’t put too much thought into it

>Just as carefully as you handled Shelly, you place your hand on the back of Sophie’s neck, which quickly turns to the feeling of cold metal in your hand

>You usually let new guns sleep where they want their first night home, but this was different, and you’d feel a lot better with her in the workshop safe

>As quietly as possible, you open the safe and deposit her inside and make for your bedroom.

1:49 AM

>The knowledge that your alarm will go off in almost 4 hours brings pain, but luckily, sleep comes quickly

3:21 AM

>”AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

>A blood curdling scream shocks you awake

>You fling the covers off and jump to your feet

“MICHELLE!”

>There is a sudden flash of light as the shotgun materializes in your hands

>You throw open the door and speed walk down the hall, at the low and ready.

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>You stop just at the mouth of the living room, trying to keep your own breathing under control
>One hand on the light switch, you count

>3…
>2…
>1…
>...NOW

*flick*

>Rounding the corner, Shelly raised
>You’re greeted by the muzzle end of an AR
“FUCK”, barely escapes your mouth as you slip and fall on your back
>”Anon!”
>Shaking off the stars in your eyes, you see Anna standing over you holding Julie, your M16A2 clone

>A now irritated Julie assumes geist form, slapping Anna. Hard.
>”I told you only Anon is allowed to do that!”
>Her navy blue eyes burning holes in Anna, she was obviously picked up in her sleep
>Even her dirty blond ponytail seems to be quivering in anger


>”I-I thought there was an emergency!” stammers Anna

>”AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

>The shop

>Sophie

“Shit”

>You scramble back to your feet and dash down the hall

>Luckily, the door was still open, and the small benchtop light was still on, dimly lighting the room
>It becomes quickly apparent that it is vacant, save for Sophie in the safe
“Well, that numbers down who is screaming. “
>Turning back to Ann and Julie in the hall
“Let me handle this guys… try and get back to sleep”
>Anna returns a silent nod, Julie and her turning back

>Stepping in, you close the door behind you

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>A mix of panicked breathing, sobs, and half screams emanate from the safe
>As quickly as your fingers allow, you punch in the code and open the door

>Sophie practically leaps out, landing face first in the middle of the shop

“Woahwoahwoah, calm do-”

>She shuffles up onto all fours, grabbing your ankles, face at your feet, prostrated.

>Most of what she says is unintelligible, but you are able to make out  some.

>”IM SORRY*sobs*PLEASE I’LL BE BETTER*sobs*DON’T PUT ME BACK*sobs*PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE*sobs*”

>For a moment you are frozen in place, not sure what to make of any of this

>Crouching, you go to take her hands off your ankles
>But the moment you move she releases and crawls back a few steps, still prostrated.
>Her tear soaked hair leaving a slight streak on the hardwood floor

>Approaching Sophie once more, you kneel, reaching under her frazzled hair
>A quick shriek of terror slips her lips

>Placing both hands on her pale cheeks, you gently raise her face to meet yours

>”NONONO PLE-

“Sophie”

>”PLEASE PLEASE I PRO-”

“Sophie”


>”IT WONT HAPPE-

“SOPHIA!”

>Snapping out of her trance like state, those steely blue eyes lock into yours once again

>”.....”

“Hey...I got you…you’re safe...”

>Tears well up and run out on your hands

>Crying more than ever, Sophie slowly begins to slump over
>Drawing her in, you cradle her head against your chest

“I...I got you now...don’t worry…”

>Sitting there, in the middle of your workshop floor, you hold Sophia, protecting her from whatever terrors frighten her

>Eventually crying herself out, she falls asleep in your arms, her soft and steady breath giving her away

>Unable to bare the thought of disturbing her, you stay there all night, until daylight begin to creep through the shades

****END CHAPTER 1****