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Backyard Dungeon 7 Chapter 3
🕑 Added 2022-09-05 15:00:01 +0000 UTCI woke up early the next morning, and I was excited for the gun show in Sandusky. The drive would only be about thirty to forty minutes from Westherest, but Nathan wanted to get there early to get the best deals for items to stock his shop. What was most exciting of all was there would be areas of the show that Nileme and I would be able to get into because Nathan held a Federal Firearms License to buy and sell guns for profit.
Since some of the events were only open to legal firearms sellers, I could check out a much larger selection that was priced for wholesale. All I would have to do is discreetly let the wild-haired man know what I wanted, and he’d be able to get it for me. Maybe that wasn’t one hundred percent legal, but it was an opportunity I wasn’t about to let pass me by.
There would also be the private booths of individual sellers where Nileme would be able to find some fun stuff for her collection. Not to mention a whole list of workshops on topics from early gun safety for kids, all the way to navigating new and upcoming regulation on state and federal level.
I scrolled through the itinerary on the show’s website while I finished my first cup of coffee.
“This is fucking sweet.” I grinned as I showed my Dolrath wife some of the events throughout the day. “When Nathan said it was a gun show, I expected a few booths in a convention center and some private collectors. Those are the kinds of shows I used to go to with my Pop. But this is more like a big convention.”
“A convention?” Nileme asked as she looked over my shoulder at my phone. “Like the ones Ibseth looks up with cosplayers?”
The dark-haired Elven woman had gone all out today.
Nileme had let Ibseth curl her long, chestnut colored hair, and my Dolrath wife wore tight, high rise jeans tucked into a pair of combat boots. The look was completed with a black t-shirt tied at the waist and an olive drab jacket that had been made to look like army surplus but better fitted to a woman’s curves. I couldn’t wait to sit back and enjoy the looks on men’s faces when they got a load of her in Sandusky.
“Kinda.” I nodded. “But instead of focusing on pop culture, and fun costumes, this one is all about guns. I got our tickets last night, and given the price of the VIP tear tickets, I think there’s gonna be some crazy stuff there. Way above what we usually find at Nathan’s place.”
“That’s exciting.” Bolra smiled as she helped to clear away the dishes.
The pretty Orc looked sexy and effortless in one of her flowy dresses as she glided through the kitchen and helped Ibseth with daily chores.
“I’m almost sorry I’m not going,” Amrila joked. My Zencarri wife was decked out in a red crop top, frayed daisy dukes over fishnets, and an oversized red flannel that did more to draw attention to the skimpy outfit underneath than to conceal it. “But we’re going to go out shopping and get some ideas for Bolra’s house.”
“That sounds like fun too.” I grinned. “You ladies should look around at some of the Halloween decorations that are going to be out, too. Oh! And maybe pick up some stuff for lawn displays. I really want to go all out for trick or treating this year.”
“Trick or treating?” Ibseth asked as she rinsed dishes at the sink. “What’s that?”
I smiled as I looked over at my first wife.
The curvy Elf’s pregnancy had started to show, and she’d borrowed one of Bolra’s flowy dresses with the waistline just under her impressive bustline.
“Trick or treat is the best thing ever,” I explained as I looked around at my wives. “It's where human kids dress up in costumes and go from house to house in their neighborhoods, and people give them candy. Halloween is the best holiday ever. People decorate their houses to look all spooky, and you watch horror movies or go out to costume parties. And trick or treat is the big finish.”
“People are just expected to give out candy?” Amrila asked with open skepticism. “That’s a strange tradition.”
“Not everyone does it,” I replied. “But most people do. And honestly, it’s way more fun than it sounds. Especially if you’re the house that gives out the good candy. My friends and I used to know exactly which houses in town gave out the best and hit those up first. I want to order a shit ton of boxes of full size candy bars and give those out. You’ll see what I mean when you hand out a king sized Twix bar to that first kid dressed like a superhero, and their face lights up. It’s gonna be the best.”
“I think that sounds like a wonderful tradition,” my pregnant wife sighed wistfully. “Neighbors just being generous toward children. It sounds so sweet and adorable. I’ll make sure we look for some decorations for the houses. This sounds like great fun.”
“Spare no expense, baby,” I said. “I want our places to be the talk of Westherst. But we should probably get going. We’re supposed to meet Nathan at his shop and drive up together.”
I kissed my wives, and then Nileme and I got into the Rubicon and drove to the army surplus store.
When we pulled up, I was surprised to see Nathan Pearson waiting out front for us. The eccentric man usually wore some mix of a Hawaiian shirt and old fatigues, but today he had washed and combed his crazy mop and pulled it back into a stylish man bun. The gun store owner had also put on a slick, long sleeve polo with his store name embroidered over his heart and a pressed pair of Dickies, and the sleeve over his missing arm had been folded and sewn shut to cover the stump just under his elbow.
Nathan almost looked respectable dressed like that. He even had a leather messenger bag slung over one shoulder, which made him seem like a proper business man.
“Hey, Eddie.” Nathan grinned as we stepped out of the Rubicon to greet him. “Ready for a day filled with guns and free swag?”
“You know it,” I snorted. “You looked nice today.”
“Flattery, flattery,” the sandy-haired man chuckled. “I like to go in looking a little more professional to these things. I find fewer people question my credentials if I look like a regular Joe Schmo.”
“I think I like your usual look better,” Nileme teased. “It suits you.”
“Kind of you to say so.” The conspiracy theorist blushed a little at the compliment. “But when in Rome, as they say. Also, I have some passes for you, too.”
“Oh.” I blinked in surprise. “I got us the VIP tickets last night.”
“Those’ll get you into all the good areas of the show with the high end stuff.” Pearson nodded. “But these passes I got will get us into the early events for just the dealers. If anyone asks, you two work for me.”
He handed us some laminated badges on lanyards from his bag. At the bottom of each badge it read “Nathan’s Arms and Surplus, Staff,” but the sandy-haired man’s badge read “Nathan Pearson, FFL.”
The three of us got into the Jeep, and Nileme chose to get into the back seat so Nathan could sit in the passenger seat next to me. Then we started out west, toward Sandusky, and during the drive, Nathan talked about the show and all the events he wanted to check out.
“If it goes well this year,” the eccentric man explained, “I could see it becoming a yearly thing. Which would be nice for me. Save me a ticket to Vegas every year for the big convention out there. And if you see anything you like, just let me know on the DL. Straw purchases aren’t exactly legal, but we can say it’s a gift on paper and avoid any trouble.”
“I can imagine there’s all kinds of rules and regulations you have to deal with running the shop,” I commented as I pulled onto the highway.
“Yes and no.” Nathan shrugged. “Ohio has some of the most reasonable rules, and I try to keep my nose clean enough that the ATF doesn’t pay me any mind. But at times, it’s a hell of a lot for one man to keep up with. I’d like to expand into some internet sales and grow my business that way, but it gets a little murkier when you gotta navigate laws state to state.”
“Don’t you have a lawyer or something to help you with that?” I asked.
“Nah.” Pearson shook his head. “Until now, I’ve kept it small and close to home. Never really needed one before. Do my own taxes and everything.”
“I could introduce you to my guy,” I offered. “He’s not exactly cheap, but he’s the best. And a whiz with investments.”
“Could be worth looking into.” Nathan nodded. “But without a little more capital, I’ll probably have to save up some, or bring on a partner, or a couple of investors.”
“Well, that’s an interesting idea,” I said thoughtfully. “If you’re serious, maybe we could sit down with my guy and work something out. I have a chunk of change stashed away. If I invested in your business, you could cover legal fees, get a website up and running, and maybe even hire someone to help you with the technology side of things.”
“Really?” The sandy-haired man gaped at me and seemed caught off guard. “I was just making conversation. But if you’re serious, I’d be very interested in that. Honestly, that would be kinda huge for me.”
“I’m very serious,” I told Nathan. “I’m not sure how all that works. Meyer will probably want a business plan or proposal. Whatever it’s called. Just to be sure all the bases are covered.”
Nathan was kinda a wild guy, but he was also very knowledgeable about his work.
I figured with Travis’s help, we could either work something up that could benefit everyone, or else the lawyer would be able to spot if it was a bad idea out of the gate. But it’d be nice to help Nathan out and maybe be able to get ammo and stuff a little cheaper.
“Well, then I’ll write something up.” Pearson grinned. “I had no idea today would be so fortuitous.”
Soon, we arrived at the convention center, which wasn’t very packed yet since the first half of the day was closed to the general public. At the doors, the event staff checked our ID and badges, and we followed the signs through the building to the specialty area.
Then the three of us stepped through the doors of one of the larger rooms, snf it was like being a kid on Christmas.
Major manufacturers all had interactive booths with replicas of different guns and rifles on display. Huge LED screens played promotional videos with high quality production values that showed off new features and accessories, and spokesmodels in miniskirts and bikinis wandered around the showfloor and handed out branded merch.
“This is why you always bring a bag,” Nathan snickered as he clocked a woman in camo daisy dukes who carried some baseball hats in her manicured hand. “Top shelf swag.”
By the time we’d followed the sandy-haired man once around the show floor, Pearson’s leather bag was filled with all the usual pens, travel mugs, and keychains. I also noticed not all of the sellers were for firearms or other items that would require an FFL to buy. There was all kinds of tactical and survival gear on display, too, and those companies had clearly wanted in on this event to court retail buyers.
But because this was where companies courted new buyers, there were also t-shirts and hats, as well as more specific items, like branded, travel sized gun cleaning kits and survival knives. Nileme and I had gotten tote bags that were also filled with “swag.”
“Excuse me, miss,” a middle aged man at one of the booths said as he looked the Elven woman up and down. “I hope it’s not rude of me to say so, but that’s some look you’ve got going on there. You do any modeling?”
“No.” The Dolrath woman shook her head as she glanced over at me.
I smiled at my wife’s surprised and unassuming expression.
“Can I give you my card?” the man asked. “We’re about to launch this whole ‘discover the unknown’ campaign ahead of the fall hunting season, and I think you’d be a great spokesmodel for that.”
“Thank you?” Nileme smiled as she took the business card from the man, pretended to take interest in something at another booth, and stepped away.
I tried not to chuckle at the gentleman’s confused face as I followed my wife.
The man at the booth was clearly expecting to have a conversation about his potential offer and seemed surprised Nileme had just left without any further questions.
“What is a spokesmodel?” the Dolrath woman asked me in a whisper. “And what did he mean by campaign? Does he plan to wage war on some hunters?”
“No,” I snorted as Nathan moved to the next booth to listen to the sales pitch from an ammo manufacturer. “You know those good looking people on billboards-- on those huge signs you see along the highway?”
“Yes.” Nileme nodded.
“Those are spokesmodels,” I explained. “They don’t really work for those companies. But they get paid to pose for the pictures or videos the companies use to try to get you to buy their products.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” the Dolrath princess replied as she scrunched her eyebrows together. “Why would a picture of a pretty person make anyone buy anything?”
“It’s a kinda trick, I guess.” I shrugged. “You see a bunch of hot people enjoying a brand of beer and having a good time. Then you think, ‘I want to be hot and have fun. Maybe I should buy that beer.’”
“But the beer won’t make someone ‘hot,’” Nileme laughed at the ridiculous idea. “You might have a little more fun if you drink the beer, though.”
“It’s silly,” I agreed with a chuckle. “But it does work, even though most people are aware that it’s a trick.”
“Humans are strange,” the princess giggled as she lowered her voice again. “But I supposed it’s the same back home. Some noblewoman styles her hair in a new way, or wears a particular color, and then suddenly it’s the new fashion.”
My practical wife clearly thought that was just as absurd, but I wondered how many Dolrath women wore their hair long and loose because Princess Nileme did, or if she shaved it all off would there suddenly be a plethora of bald Dolrath women? I was sure that wouldn’t even occur to the muscular woman. Nileme saw herself as a military leader, but it would be interesting to see how Dolrath fashion changed after she became chief.
Would all the young women in the Encampment suddenly have toned arms and six pack abs?
Nathan collected a few more business cards and networked a little more. The eccentric conspiracy theorist actually seemed pretty good at that. Once he talked to the staff at a booth for a minute, they’d warm to the sandy-haired man, or even offer him a little extra swag, or some more exclusive promotional item. Pearson even got a free leather shoulder holster from one guy.
As I watched the one-armed man in action, I started to feel even more confident in my offer to invest in his business. Nathan had the charisma, but maybe he just needed more help on the administrative end of things. With Travis Meyer’s business savvy in the mix, we could probably make a lot of money. I even wondered if I should get Owen in on the deal.
The next booth was a display of high end night vision goggles, and that caught my interest. As we stepped up to the booth, Nathan grabbed one of the freebee key chains off a table and stuck it in his bag.
“Morning gentleman and lady,” a severe looking woman in her late twenties greeted us as we inspected the high-tech goggles. “I’m Bea with Tracticgear, and this is our new line of night gear.”
Bea was about five two and maybe ninety pounds of lean muscle. The saleswoman had jet black hair that was tightly pulled back in a bun at the nape of her neck, and her outfit looked like a modern version of 1940s French paramilitary uniform.
“I don’t know a whole lot about night vision goggles,” I replied as I glanced around. “Can you tell me a little bit about these?”
“Of course,” Bea replied with a self confident smile. “Ours are all white phosphor, which is better for extended use. If you plan to use them for more than an hour or two, that’s what you want to go with. We make double tubes and quads, and have infrared light attachments for near black out condition.”
Fucking sweet.
“And what’s the difference between the double tubes and the quads?” I asked as I thought about the darker areas of The Gloom and the deeper caverns.
“Range of vision,” the slick saleswoman explained. “The doubles will let you see what’s right in front of you. But the quads will give you a little more range. Not full periphery vision. But if you’re out hunting or on patrol in the dark, that extra few feet of vision on either side can make all the difference.”
“That is interesting.” I grinned.
Right now, I used my headlamp in dark conditions. It was fine but had definite drawbacks. I always ran the risk of accidentally blinding one of my friends from The Gloom, or the beam of light could give away my position to an enemy. But with infrared, I wouldn’t have to worry about any of that. It was a lot to have to wear around, but it wasn’t like the headlamp was a particularly sexy fashion statement.
“Is there any way I could try one out?” I asked as I looked around the well lit show floor.
“Sure,” Bea nodded. “We have a blackout booth right over here. You can try one of the quads with the infrared light attached.”
The raven-haired woman led Nileme and I to the back half of her booth. I looked around for Nathan, but he had moved onto the next booth. The sandy-haired man was talking to a redhead in an army green bikini who lightly touched his damaged arm with a concerned look, and Pearson had put on a long face as he pointed to it and said something.
It seemed he would be more than fine on his own for a minute.
I turned my attention back to Bea as we reached the blackout booth. It was big enough for two people and had a dummy dressed up like a soldier in the middle.
“Here you go.” Bea smiled as she handed the Elven woman and I each a set of goggles. “Press this to turn on the infrared flashlight. But obviously wait until I close the door.”
Nileme and I put the helmets on, and Bea helped to adjust the straps for us.
“Girl,” the confident saleswoman chuckled as she stepped back and looked at Nileme. “I’d kill for those arms. Do you do deadlifts or bench?”
“Why would I lift the dead?” the Dolrath woman asked in a curious tone.
“No, I-- uhh,” Bea stammered as she blinked at the Elven woman, but then she just shook her head. “Looks like you’re all set. Let me just close the curtain and give you a few minutes to try out the quads.”
The slick woman stepped out of the booth and carefully closed the curtain behind her so almost no outside light came through.
I found the button and clicked on the goggles, then the special flashlight. The dummy and Nileme appeared in grayscale, and I moved my head around to get a sense for the range of vision the goggles had.
“Oh.” I grinned. “I like these. What do you think?”
“It feels strange without any color,” Nileme replied as she also looked around. “But I can see their usefulness. What’s that phrase you use? Cool? I think they’re very cool.”
I could see the beam of infrared light from my wife’s helmet as we both looked overy the dummy. The detail was good, though maybe not as clear as it would be with my headlamp, but I was one hundred percent getting some of these.
The two of us turned off the goggles and exited through the curtain.
“Do you have a card or something?” I asked as I handed Bea back her goggles.
“Sure do,” the severe woman replied as she set the goggles back on the display. “This is the website and the number to our corporate office. But do me a favor. If your company puts in an order, give them my name so I get part of the commission.”
Bea wrote her name down on the back of the card and handed it to me.
“I will definitely do that.” I nodded. “Thank you so much.”
As we walked away, I saw that Nathan was still with the redhead. I watched as the woman in the bikini handed Pearson back his phone, and the sandy-haired man had a big grin on his face.
Then Nathan turned and saw us as his booth bunny returned to her work
“There you two are,” the eccentric man said. “You ready to check out the rest of the show? The private sellers are always worth a look.”
“Did you just get that girl’s number?” I asked with a sly look at my friend.
“You mean Amber?” Nathan replied with a self satisfied look. “Hell yeah I did. That woman could melt ice cream in the Arctic. Told her I lost my arm saving a kid.”
“Is that actually how you lost it?” Nileme asked with a smile and a raised eyebrow.
I realized I’d never asked Nathan about his arm. I didn’t want to make him feel weird or uncomfortable, and he’d never brought it up before.
“Well, kinda,” Pearson said in a sly voice. “Grew up out in the country, and one year my daddy brought home some real humdinger fireworks back from West Virginia. Me and my buddy were setting them off one night, and one went off sooner than I expected.”
“Damn.” I winced and remembered back to dozens of similar close calls from my own childhood.
“Learned a valuable lesson that day.” The sandy-haired man nodded. “Anyway. The way I see it, if I hadn’t picked up the faulty rocket, then my buddy would’ve set it off and lost his arm. So I figure I did save a kid that day, so to speak.”
“I can’t argue your logic,” I chuckled. “Let’s go check out the rest of the show.”
The three of us started in the VIP rooms, which were smaller conference rooms with five or six seller tables.
Mostly, there were people selling antique and collectables, so there was memorabilia from WWI through Desert Storm. I even saw a group of Civil War reenactors trying to recruit volunteers. There were lots of old, very well kept rifles, flintlock muskets, and embellished revolvers that all came with papers to prove their history and value.
Nearly all the sellers were older men, and they loved Nileme. The Dolrath woman asked questions and got back a crash course in American history each time. Most of them weren’t used to a young woman who showed interest in their hobby, let alone a woman as hot and exotic as my wife. But as a man with a handlebar mustache explained how a pearl handled six shooter worked to the Dolrath princess, something at the next booth over caught my eye.
The man at that booth didn’t look like the paunchy, midwestern history buffs at the other tables. He was tall and trim, with white hair that still had patches of deep brown at the temples. His display was nicer, too. Locked cases with the most beautiful double barrel rifles I’d ever seen. There were only four of them, but each one had a beautiful custom inlay on their wooden handles.
As I looked at the long, high caliber barrels, I realized they were big game rifles, and when I stepped up to the table, I noticed small, framed pictures of a young man in safari gear, maybe taken somewhere in Africa in the 80s.
“Hello there.” The fit, older man smiled, and he had a sophisticated British accent. “Enjoying the show today?”
“Yeah… is this you?” I asked as I pointed to one of the pictures where the young man stood next to two dead lions.
“It is indeed,” the Englishman chuckled. “Or it was, half a lifetime ago. Those two brutes had been terrorizing a small village for about a week, so some friends and I stepped in to take care of it. I’m Reggie Brown.”
The man held out his hand, and we shook.
I was surprised more people weren’t at his table. Most of the guys I’d met so far were just collectors, but Reggie seemed like the real deal.
“So, are you selling these?” I asked as I looked at the rifles in the cases.
“I intend to.” The posh man nodded. “But not many takers so far. Each one of these are handcrafted, one-of-a-kind rifles. But they’re not terribly historical, which seems to be what this crowd is most interested in.”
“So, they’re all in working order?” I asked as I thought about Trolls, Basilisks, and other thick hide monsters in The Gloom.
“Are you interested in big game hunting?” Reggie asked as he looked me up and down.
“I know I don’t look the part,” I snorted as I glanced down at my jeans and work boots. “But, yes. I have a Galil and a Kriss Vector at home. But say I was interested in hunting something like an elephant or a rhino? I’d have a hell of a time bringing something like that down with my current hardware.”
“I should say so.” The Englishman nodded. “Have you ever read Orwell’s essay, ‘Shooting an Elephant?’”
“I’m afraid not.” I shook my head. “Like George Orwell, the guy that wrote War of the Worlds?”
“The very same,” Reggie said in a reverent tone. “He spent some time in the Forgien Legion in his youth and had a situation where he needed to kill an elephant that had become a man killer. This happened in Burma. Only had a 44 Winchester and made a mess of the job. These rifles are specially crafted for a big job like that, but since you only get two shots at a go, you have to choose your shot wisely.”
I knew all about that from the Pit Wyrms I’d killed. But a rifle like one of these could do the trick a fuck of a lot faster, especially with the help of my warrior wives.
“How much?” I asked in a deadly serious tone.
“Really?” Reggie grinned as he scanned me again and recognized something in me. “They vary, since they are custom made, but the average is about forty thousand. Are you still interested?”
“Hell yes, I am.” I nodded.
“Well, then,” the Englishman said in an impressed tone as he turned, unlocked one of the cases, and pulled out a rifle with an Indian style inlay of elephants and tigers. “This is a .450 caliber that I used in Indonesia, back in ‘86. Still in perfect order. But I should warn you, it’s not easy to get a hold of the solid rounds recommended for game like elephants. And it kicks like a mule.”
Reggie handed the rifle to me, and I broke it open to look down the barrel.It was clean and well cared for, but had clearly been fired a time or two.
But fuck did it feel good in my hands.
“I’ll take it,” I replied as I handed it back to the trim, older man. “You said forty thousand dollars?”
“Normally, I’d charge fifty for this one.” Reggie smiled. “But there’s something about you that reminds me of myself when I was young. Most of the offers I’ve had in the past have been spoiled rich boys looking for a thrill. You’re different, though. I’ll sell for forty and throw in a couple of boxes of rounds. But I’d like you to take my card and send me pictures of your first big hunt. Agreed?”
“Sure,” I lied, because there was no way I could send this posh man pictures of a dead monster in a deep cave.
Then I handed Reggie Brown my card and finalized the sale of the most beautiful gun I’d ever seen.
Fuck, I couldn’t wait to use it.
