The old man in the doorway stares a little slack-jawed at the sight before him. Between Serin’s military-style introduction, Billy’s casual and blunt attitude, and whatever the hell is on Mikado’s head, Mr. Emberstone can only turn to Smokey and ask, ”Smokey, who the hell are these tall people?”
Smokey, in turn, looks towards his teammates and briefly considers disowning them and saying he’s never seen them before in his life. But, considering they’d have no where to go otherwise, that’d be kind of mean. Instead, Smokey just pinches his brow and says, ”They’re my team. I told ya’ about them over the CCT a few months back, remember?”
The man strokes his chin while Smokey speaks, searching his memory before a dawn of realization hits him. ”Oh yeah, you did say somethin’ about that. So if you’re Serin and Billy, that must make you Mikado,” he says, pointing to each as he mentions their respective name. ”Well, don’t just stand out here in the cold, come on in! Come on in!” he says, gesturing for them to come inside the store.
Once inside, BSSM would be greeted by a well-lit room with walls covered in various firearms and ammunition types. On the far end, there are several tubes of Dust, along with graduated cannisters to measure and dispense it. Notably, there are a few melee weapons about, but they seem to be marketed as features of the weapon, rather than a primary draw. Most of them seem to be fairly generic as well: there are swords, spears, even a couple axes and hammers, but nothing particularly creative.
The guns however, come in all shapes and sizes. There’s the standard fare of hand-held pistols, shotguns, and assault and sniper rifles, but there are also wrist-mounted SMGs, pistol boots, and even a bizarre, spherical shotgun that seems to operate on the same principle of old-school Gatling guns! And that’s just the tip of the iceberg, but, unfortunately, all of the pieces on display seem to be only for display. If the sign under each item didn’t give it away, then the wires stringing them to the wall and keeping them in place would.
The front counter, on the other hand, was clearly not set for display. The countertop was covered in various pieces and tools, all of which were laid out in no apparent organized fashion. It seems the group had interrupted Mr. Emberstone in the middle of working on something.
”Ah, lemme grab all this and take it—“ the man said as he hurriedly tried to pick up all the miscellaneous pieces, but Smokey placed a hand on his arm, momentarily stopping the haphazard gathering.
”Let me handle that” Smokey offered, beginning to take some of the tools out of his father’s hands.
”No, no, I got it,” Mr. Emberstone replied, trying to keep hold of everything.
”Dad, just let me—“
”It’s nothing!”
”You’re gonna fall.”
”I’ll be fine! You don’t even know where it—"
”Dad,” Smokey said, finally wresting all of the objects from his father’s hands and picking up the remaining pieces still on the countertop, ”I got it. Storage 1-A, right?” Smokey begins to make his way to a door marked “Employees Only”, his arms filled to the brim with parts and tools, all of which are stacked so high he can barely see over the top of it. All of the weight looks pretty heavy, and it’s only thanks to Smokey’s brute strength that he manages to walk to the back without any major effort.
Smokey’s dad, on the other hand, has a bit of a frown on his face, but simply says, ”Bah! Alright, fine! You’re gonna have to put some of it 2-D, though. 1-A’s been housin’ a bunch of custom parts, so you’re probably gonna have to do a bit of reorganizin’” Smokey simply acknowledges his father with a grunt and disappears behind the door. BSSM can hear the sound of boots stepping down stairs for a bit before the door completely closes behind him.
”Ah, what can ya do, eh?” Mr. Emberstone turns back towards the other three with a bit of a goofy-looking smile, now that his counter is clear. ”Boy’s always been like that, won’t ever give an inch. Anyways, name’s Lucas Emberstone, owner and proprietor of Emberstone Firearms! What can I do ya for?”