It had been hanging there for months now. Almost a year even. A simple pump-action shotgun, hung on a dusty hat stand... he'd far rather use it for it's real purpose but he couldn't really find any hats that fit him. He stood in his scrap filled wardrobe, cluttered with scrap metal and paint cans. His big surprise was hidden in the back, he couldn't wait to show that to everyone but... He'd come across a few parts he could not use in it. The hour was 04:00Am, in his opinion the loneliest hour. From midnight till three he at least had the drinkers to help home and look after ^^
... But by four people tended to, ya know, sleep. Gah, the very thought sent goosebumps over his body... well, it would. Sleep was kinda scary... it was hard to tell if the fleshy ones were really okay or not when they did it. It worried him so.
He had debated calling Sno for hours now... but she was built to be like a human wasn't she? Did she have a sleep cycle? If she did he didn't want to break it for her... perhaps she charged when she went to sleep. That would make sense.
He finally urged himself to pull his weapon from it's stand, a thick coat of dust flying from it's strap. The weight dictated there were no shells in it, he was glad. Just as he had left it. Using the vent inbuilt into his face he blew the dust from it, noting a spider or two flying forth. He made sure they were okay and there were no more insects before continuing.
With his machine accuracy he began to deconstruct, pulling pieces from the surrounding area to replace not only what was (albeit only slightly) worn. He couldn't bring himself to trash these pieces though, instead setting them upon his shelf. Being replaced must be a horrible feeling. Finishing off he began to paint the gun black... it was silly but it was to kind of disassociate it with his person. It's prior dark green and teal colour scheme... too much of a reminder he was once a weapon.
He was incredibly proud of one addition to the gun. A safety. But, unlike most safeties, this one was made especially safe. The end of either side of the switch was a slight spike, not enough to bleed but he was certain it would make pushing it down uncomfortable. It would take decent strength to press it down regardless, thus increasing the persuasion for a fleshy one not to press it.
It was necessitated as the parts he had replaced the worn ones with were far superior as parts for a gun, the weapon had more raw power he had to admit. The bullets he had picked up seemed slightly better to, having a slightly wider spread and flying slightly farther he had appraised. He had found a good seventy at the junkyard, in a battered ammunition crate.
He hung it back up to dry, glad he had done something with his time rather than just sulk to himself... though perhaps he could get a job somewhere. Just to take his mind away from this kind of thing.
... But by four people tended to, ya know, sleep. Gah, the very thought sent goosebumps over his body... well, it would. Sleep was kinda scary... it was hard to tell if the fleshy ones were really okay or not when they did it. It worried him so.
He had debated calling Sno for hours now... but she was built to be like a human wasn't she? Did she have a sleep cycle? If she did he didn't want to break it for her... perhaps she charged when she went to sleep. That would make sense.
He finally urged himself to pull his weapon from it's stand, a thick coat of dust flying from it's strap. The weight dictated there were no shells in it, he was glad. Just as he had left it. Using the vent inbuilt into his face he blew the dust from it, noting a spider or two flying forth. He made sure they were okay and there were no more insects before continuing.
With his machine accuracy he began to deconstruct, pulling pieces from the surrounding area to replace not only what was (albeit only slightly) worn. He couldn't bring himself to trash these pieces though, instead setting them upon his shelf. Being replaced must be a horrible feeling. Finishing off he began to paint the gun black... it was silly but it was to kind of disassociate it with his person. It's prior dark green and teal colour scheme... too much of a reminder he was once a weapon.
He was incredibly proud of one addition to the gun. A safety. But, unlike most safeties, this one was made especially safe. The end of either side of the switch was a slight spike, not enough to bleed but he was certain it would make pushing it down uncomfortable. It would take decent strength to press it down regardless, thus increasing the persuasion for a fleshy one not to press it.
It was necessitated as the parts he had replaced the worn ones with were far superior as parts for a gun, the weapon had more raw power he had to admit. The bullets he had picked up seemed slightly better to, having a slightly wider spread and flying slightly farther he had appraised. He had found a good seventy at the junkyard, in a battered ammunition crate.
He hung it back up to dry, glad he had done something with his time rather than just sulk to himself... though perhaps he could get a job somewhere. Just to take his mind away from this kind of thing.
