Weapon Shop

It's Christmas Time in the City

Author: Kyle Bernard <csktech[at]yahoo.com>

Date 23 Oct 2004

Category: Crossover

Rating: PG-13

Keywords: None

Legalese: All characters with their respective rights, properties and copyrights are the property of their respective creators, authors, owners, producers and agencies. These characters are used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended or meant, and no money will be made from this story. This story may be copied in its entirety, and may be distributed as long as all copyright information remains.

Summary: What do you give a Dragan for Christmas, how about his every dream?

Chapter 1

Immortal Arms, Los Angeles
December 20th 1997

Andy rolled up on the shop in his Christmas present to himself, a 1968 Mercury Cougar. Andy had fallen in love with the car when he'd been passing one the of the many hot rod shops that dotted Los Angles. The Cougar was painted black, Jet black, twelve coats of paint left it with a sheen that looked as if it were a mile deep, The chrome shone as if were a mirror, rather than just shiny strips of metal.

Inside the car was even more impressive; Fine leather seats that shined even deeper than the exterior paint. The dash contained the usual; a speedometer that went to 150mph, a tachometer where the red line started at 9500 rpm, engine temp and something that wasn't usually mounted in a car, a cylinder head temp gauge. The steering wheel had been made from a solid piece of mahogany. The car was nearly a work of art.

Who ever had purchased the car from Mercury must have had some clout. The drive train was from a 1969 Super Cobra Jet Mustang. The 428 CID engine was backed up by a C-6 transmission and 4.30: 1 Detroit locker rear end. Someone alone the line had lost the original carbs and had installed a custom fuel injection system. The Paxton supercharger was merely the icing on the cake.

Andy had been dreaming of owning a car like this since his tour in Viet Nam. He and his fellow green berets has spent the long nights when nothing was happening talking about what they would do when they got back into the world. The second favorite subject had been cars.

Andy never blinked at the purchase price, which was 30 times what the car had listed for when new, He just wrote a check and waited for the paperwork to clear.

The car had invoked a crisis in his life. He loved Recon, loved him a lot, but had taken an act of god to open the door so that his furry haired friend could ride to the shop with him. Even now he could only imagine all the dog hair that was collecting in the cracks of the fine leather bucket seats.

Andy had made it to the door of the shop and he was drawn back to the car by an imaginary smudge on the passenger's side door. He'd gotten back to the car and was reaching over to polish the smudge away with his sleeve when he slapped himself mentally. <No… I'm not going to do. I swore that if I had this car I'd drive it till its wheels fell off, I'm not going to treat it like some show car.>

The clatter of a skateboard hitting the ground broke his mental flogging of himself. On the sidewalk were nine of the neighborhood kids, Andy totally misread the looks of shock on the kids faces. "Jimmy," he yelled over to the oldest one, "come over here for a second."

Jimmy Chavez had lived in the neighborhood all of his 13 years. He remembered very well what living on the block was like when the 69 boys ran the place. Drug dealers and whores had owned the place and just getting home from school had been a challenge.

The young man stumbled forward, egged on by his friends. All of the kids knew about Andy. They knew that he had paid for the improvements in the neighborhood, but more than anything else the all knew the story how he and a friend had completely destroyed the meanest street gang in Los Angles in less than three minutes.


"Yes Sir?"

"You see this car?"

"Yes Sir."

"Do me a favor son, put the word out, nothing happens to this car or else."

"Yes Sir," the boy answered politely.

"Ok son thanks, Oh and Jimmy, Merry Christmas."

Andy never had a clue that the kids weren't staring at the car… but at him walking on two legs.

Andy walked away from the now scattering groups of kids. He'd almost made it to the door of the shop when he remembered the packages that he'd left in the trunk. Returning to the car he unlocked the back and grabbed the grocery bag and his briefcase.

Andy headed back to the shop singing under his breath, "We wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas. We wish you a Merry Christmas and a happy new year."

Disarming the alarm system and opening the door, he found Gar waiting there for him, Ooka Gar, Merry Christmas."

"Ooka Andwy,"

Recon busted through the door and was suddenly surrounded by Krisle. The dog, unmerciful scratch whore that he was, fell over on his back and let the Krisle scratch his belly.

"Gar would you do me a favor, go get Tommy and the rest of the Krisle for me please."

"Kiss first," the lady Gar asked He head tilted to one side and her eyes filled with hope.

For some reason the Gar had taken a liking to Andy. And Andy had to admit she was a nice person even if she was, in his mind, a lizard. "What the hell." he said under his breath. Then in a louder voice he answered Gar, "Oh ok, but just one, I'm not a Popsicle."

The Gar squealed with happiness and she literally climbed up the front of Andy's shirt and gave him and affectionate lick across the nose, "Merry Twismas Andwy." She scampered back down and gave a shout that filled every corner of the shop, Ookaaaa Krisle."

The sound of pattering feet punctuated with the normally happy voice of the Krisle filled the shop. When all was said and done there were more than 30 of the little creatures at Andy's feet and another 10 that immediately started petting Recon.

"Good morning Krisle."

The immortal gunsmith was overwhelmed with greetings in several languages, all saying essentially the same thing, "Good morning."

Ok let's settle down, I have some good news and some bad news."

Tommy and Gar jumped in front of the Krisle, protecting them from the imagined threat. "Not bad news like that… Geez have a little faith in me. The bad news is that for some reason the candy dish in my office keeps coming up empty…"

40 Krisle, plus 1 Gar and one dragon hybrid went totally silent. The Krisle all looked away trying to look not guilty. The silence went on for one minute, and then two, and then three, finally Tommy stepped up, "Andy I should have told you…"

"Don't worry about it kid, I figured it out on my own. The Krisle liked chocolate the way Recon likes steak." Andy glanced around at the assembled Krisle, "Relax guys n gals. This brings us to the good news; its Christmas time and I come bearing presents."

Andy reached down in to the grocery bag he'd retrieved from the trunk, "First off, for the Krisle," little heads popped up in anticipation, "M&M's." Andy tossed small bags of the round candies to all of the Krisle. "Guys I truly appreciate all the hard work you've done keeping the shop clean. So, for the next year each of you will receive one bag of M&M's every week."

"Yaay!" Shouts of glee blocked out the next few words. The Krisle as a group were very happy, the only one that wasn't happy, was Tommy. He'd just lost his source of cheap labor. "Oh Well," he conceded gracefully, "It is Christmas." "Gar, your next," Andy reached down into the bag again and pulled out a wrapped present. I wasn't sure on this but candy didn't seem right so here you go."

The package was nearly as long as Gar was; she stared at the gaudily wrapped box in confusion. She'd never received a wrapped present before and she was a little confounded as to what to do with it.

"It's ok Gar; you tear the wrapping off and open the box." Tommy turned to Andy, "The Krisle usually just swap gifts in a big bunches."

The look on Gar's face was worth the two weeks Andy had put into the two items. The longer of the two was based on an English broad sword but had been scaled down to fit the Gar's smaller frame. Andy has also made the small creature a scabbard, which it could wear like a pack, so the sword wouldn't drag on the ground.

The second item wasn't much to look at but anyone familiar with knives would recognize the design instantly, the knife was based on a Skies-Fairburn dagger from World War II.

The assembled Krisle ohhed and ahhed. Gar for her part simply jumped into Andy's arms, hugging him as hard as she could. "You're welcome Gar."

For the next few minutes Andy had to endure the thank-you kisses of 40 Krisle and even he had to admit, it wasn't that bad.

When the last of the Krisle had gone off to wherever they hung out when Andy and Tommy were working in the shop, Andy took Tommy aside. "Well kid I have to admit it been a pretty good half a year. Now its decision time for you. I have one of two possible presents and you get to choose."

Tommy stood mute, not knowing what to say.

"The first choice is simple; I cancel your debt and you can go back to the way you were living. I can't guarantee that your father will accept you back, but I can encourage it. The second is a bit more complex. I have established an account for you at USC. There's enough money for you to live until you get two degrees, now the catch here is that at least one degree must be in mechanical engineering.

"You mean I have to move out and stay at the school. Andy you have to realize that I don't fit in there. It's hard enough just going to my art classes."

"I know that kid. But part of your problem is you don't relate to other your age. The answer to your question is No; you don't have to live in the dorms. You can stay here and still work with me if you like."

A big grin split Tommy's face, "Then I choose the second."

"Bingo," Andy exclaimed loudly. "Kid I was hoping that you would say that. Andy dug his cell phone out of his pocket. Dialed a number and than listened for a minute. "Ok Sam, come on in," He said into the mouthpiece.

A dark haired and undeniable handsome man walked in from the front of the story. "Tommy let me introduce you to Sam Seaborne, he's my lawyer.

The blue-eyed lawyer stuck his hand out, "Nice to meet you."

Andy interrupted, "now the thing you have to remember about Sam is that he really doesn't like what we do. In fact he dislikes guns intensely, that fact makes him a better lawyer because he fights harder so his own feelings don't get in the way, isn't that right Sam?"

"Well I wouldn't go that far."

"Yes you would. Ok Sam, tell Tommy what you have in your briefcase."

Sam laid his briefcase down on the workbench. "On Andy's instructions I have prepared a trust. In that trust lay 48 percent of Immortal Arms Incorporated. Upon compilation of certain conditions, this trust will pass into your hands.

"Holy shit," was the only words Tommy could squeeze out.

"The key words were conditions. You have to stay in school and get two degrees. The trust devolves back to me if you fail to qualify within 6 years."

"I don't know what to say," Tommy managed to stammer out.

"Well I do. Merry Christmas Kid."

December 21, 1997 430 A.M.

Andy locked the door to his house and set the alarm system. He'd loaded the car last night and Recon was already sitting in the passenger's seat. "One stop in Sunnydale and then, Here I come Montana.'

The End


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