The Champion *ON HOLD*

Chapter 3- Not a Coincidence

A/N: In case any of you lovely readers were wondering, the above picture is of a Springfield 1911 .45 ACP handgun. It's a standard issue for police officers and sheriff's deputies, but can be purchased by civilians. The gun is fairly loud and ear protection should always be used when firing this weapon (or any gun for that matter). The recoil, or kick, is significant and requires a firm grip and at least a moderate amount of hand strength to keep the gun from getting away from the shooter. One should always remember, guns are not toys and should never be handled without proper safety training first.

With that little lesson over, I do hope you, my lovely readers (however few there may be), enjoy this installment of The Champion.

"Well, what did Mr. Hughes think of the gun?" Nick asked Avery when she got back to the range.

"He really liked it." She said, walking past her boss, going into her office, her dogs following behind her.

"That's it? He liked it? He didn't say anything else?" Avery sat in her chair and turned to look at him. She took a sip of her still, thankfully, warm coffee before answering.

"He was more concerned with his clients at the time. I was there for about five minutes before he had to go off and take care of some other clients." Avery shrugged. She knew Nick worried about his customer's satisfaction with weaponry. It was one of his redeeming qualities. Then again, clients could sue if they were given a gun with faulty parts, so she could see why he worried.

"Oh ok, but he liked it?" Nick asked, sounding a bit concerned. He had every right to be. Mr. Hughes was his wealthiest customer and investor. He couldn't afford to lose him.

"That's what I said, Nick." Avery turned in her chair, setting her travel mug on a coaster and booted up her computer. She had invoices to fill out and file. She also had three clients who were requesting custom milled parts for their weapons.

The good part about that was, whatever money she made off of milling and customizing parts, she kept all for herself. She may work for Nick, but when it came to custom milled parts and detailing, she worked under her own name, Knight's Custom Parts. Not very original, but then again, she didn't need to be. The types of people that came to her for parts weren't exactly creative thinkers. They were mostly straight-forward, blunt, one-track-minded people who didn't care about how clever the name of her business was; they just wanted parts.

"Well, good, then. Get to work." He said stiffly, transitioning from anxious to formal in a few breaths. She made a "mhm" noise in response, taking another sip of her coffee, already focusing on her work.

Avery worked on filing the invoices, which took all of fifteen minutes. When she was done, she spun in her chair and looked at her dogs. They were flopped down on a large dog bed in the corner of her small office. Their paws had already dried from standing in the truck bed so she didn't worry about rubbing them down with a towel. She turned away and scooted her desk chair over to the filing cabinet.

Avery's office was about twelve feet by twelve feet, not very big, but big enough to hold her desk, a filing cabinet, some shelves with instructional books, as well as a display case with antique weapons in them, ranging from an old WWII griss gun, to an original Civil War black powder rifle. The room smelled of burnt metal and gunpowder and she loved it.

She pulled some files out of the filing cabinet and flipped through them, going over the details of the parts she was going to make. One client wanted a bent bolt for his Mosin Nagant rifle. Normal bolts were straight. He was more than likely putting a scope mount on it, which would get in the way of a straight bolt, hence milling a bent one. Which would not be hard at all. In fact, if the man knew anything about welding or milling, he could do it himself, but since he had come to her, he probably didn't.