The .45 Caliber Work Artist

It had been late that night, but the artist who had ebbed in history had continued on her craft. She had been modifying several parts of a discarded pistol. She had found it carelessly tossed near a dumpster. It had been a rare, and powerful gun, only a foolwith no appreciation for a very fine firearm would do such a thing. The expert gunsmith had retrieved the forsaken weapon, and had been observing it in her shop all afternoon. The dim light of her candle was beginning to burn out. She had been aware of this only moments before the fire had gone out. She stood up, and went to a cabinet, and pulled out another candle, and matches. She was ready to strike the match, when the single source of light had gone out. Trying to sense her way through all of this in pitch black darkness, the gunsmith was to make her move when the door creaked open. The lightless place was flooded with light.

A figure stood at the door. Goldstein squinted behind her spectacles, she was barely adjusting to the light. A crimson colored figure, then motioned, and began to speak. "Hey, are you the maker of this?"said a voice, holding out a familiar gun. "What do you want?"said the gunsmith. "Did you make this?"said the scarlet silhoutte once more. "Yes. I did."replied the squinting woman. "Then can you make some for me?"asked the figure now stepping forward, revealing itself. Nell Goldstein had been adjusting her glasses, when she had caught sight of the potential client. She gasped. "So can you, will you, won't you?"said the stranger. Goldstein had tried to conceal her expression, and placed her face downcast. She gestured for him to sit down. "Take a seat. We'll talk." "Okay, sure."said the man in the red coat, in an almost child like way, for he had been quite excited for some time.

Goldstein sat at her desk across him. "So, who recommended me?"said the gunsmith still trying to supress her memories and emotions. "Ah, no one really. I just was finishing a job, when a punk I beat up dropped this."he said putting the pistol on the desk. Goldstein did not doubt that this man was a mercenary. "It was a shame that some moron who couldn't even fire properly, had this with him."he said indicating the firearm, and then glancing at its creator. "Where in the city or world could such an above good gun exist?! So I asked the punk before he could take off running, where he had gotten this. Hence your name."he said with a grin, and his eyes briefly closed. "So, will you make me some guns, just as good as this one?" Goldstein had tried keep track of what this man had been stating. "I promise I'll pay up. So what do you say?"he said in a tone in between excited playfulness, and zeal.

"Sure, do you know how to use a gun?"asked the gunsmith. "Pfft! It's pretty obvious. Why else would I be here?" "Then, what is the caliber of this gun?"she said handing a gun over to him. "This is a ...uh. I forgot the name."said the oddly silver-haired man, trying cover up his lack knowledge. "It's a .45 caliber."said the now confident aged woman, taking back the gun. "Oh, I knew that." said the mercenary scratching his head. "But, I do know how to shoot!"he broke in as in retaliation. Goldstein chuckled. That fervor for guns that this childish man had, she had once been very familiar with. "Alright then." she said rising from her chair, and grabbing a coat. "Let's see how you rate."she grabbed two of her carefully crafted guns. She put them inside of her holsters. "Huh? Oh I get it." Soon enough the .45 caliber artist had led him out of her shop. She had been walking in the company of this gun enthusiast, with a reserved smile on her face. They had walked three blocks, when they had arrived to a shabby building. "Say, what's your name?"said the gunsmith as she walked. "Tony Redgrave."he said cheerfully.

"Well then, prove yourself. Can you handle a gun?"she said as she pushed open the doors of the building. Within the shabby the building downstairs, was a shooting range. Of course there were plenty of shooting ranges in town, but only one specifically designed for usage of guns, like the ones Goldstein created and designed, existed. "Here, shoot."she said turning to Tony, and handing him a gun. "This one is moderate in its ability. So, it shouldn't be a problem for someone like you, right?"she spoke in an almost indistinguishable tone of reassureness, and sarcasm. Tony took the gun into his hand, and nodded. "Of course, not a problem!"he aimed steadily. He had praised the excellence, and comfort the gun had provided moments before he fired a bullet. Blam! A shell fell to the ground. "Bull's Eye." He had hit the target in the head. "Good. Now try this one." she said as she took the moderate pistol back, and handed Tony another pistol. "Now this one is a bit more complicated, bottomline it's not easy. This one really packs a powerful punch, so be a lot more careful this time around."

"Yeah, I hear you." He said as he picked it up, and felt it. This one was surprisingly light in its weight. "Hmmm. Yeah, that's it." He targetted, and fired. He had done it once more, flawlessly. He turned. "Jackpot."he said with a cool smile. Goldstein had turned her head, and tried to stifle something. She snorted. "Huh? Hey!" Goldstein broke into laughter. "Hey what's so funny!"cried out the silver-haired man. Goldstein continued to giggle for a few more moments. She had at last composed herself, and then answered. "That gun, it's actually the easiest one I'd ever modified. That's why it was that simple!" "What?! tricked me!" "You said you knew about guns!" Tony had an annoyed expression on his face. "Aw, but you're not bad at all. Sure, I'll make you some guns. Call it a day, just come by my office tomorrow."said the gunsmith handing the other gun to the mercenary she had deceived.

Tony smiled. She was leaving, when he called out. "Are you giving these to me?!" "Yeah, of course she called back." Tony looked at both guns in his hands with an excited expression. "Thanks, old lady!"he shouted out. Nell Goldstein had turned with an insulted expression, but soon it ebbed to one of warmth. This youth reminded her of him so much. Tony had felt accomplished, and a new joy. Nell Goldstein had returned to her shop, and home. She had been exhausted. She had put away her coat, as soon as she had removed it. She locked the door, and sighed. She ambled toward her desk. She picked up one of her most dearest posessions, closest to her heart. A young boy with brown hair, holding a firearm, accompanied by a canine, was in the photograph. "Rock."A tear fell from her eye to her cheek. She broke down, and fell to her knees. The memory. "My son."she sobbed even harder. All of her emotions had taken over. "My boy, why my boy?!" In the time of the night, she cried the same tears that had fallen from her eyes years ago.

Greetings once again, I'm sorry this was way too short, and I guess I lied about the first person view, I apologize for that, too. I just write what I've got in my brain. I might have to write another chapter for Nell Goldstein, since she has a very special relationship with Dante. Though the conclusion would be all too sad. Then again this is supposed to be a sad fic. This first actual installment has been more or less just the way Tony had met Goldstein. I potray Dante in a childish manner in this story since it is one of the ways he is depicted in the novel. In the meantime please do review, and I'll know what to throw in the next chapter(s). Thank you for reading!