“Do you really want to come with me?” I asked, stressing my voice to hammer in the fact none of this was necessary.

“I’ve got nothing else to do right now,” Luna replied, walking alongside me. We were attracting enough stares simply walking through the streets when we only had S1 with us--the other two servants who waiting back at Luna’s place.

Luna wanted to bring every servant along, wherever she went, but she thankfully relented under my insistence that doing so would draw undue attention to ourselves. Whether that was a good thing or not didn’t matter; I just didn’t want to become the centre of attention.

“I’m also curious about guns,” She added on after a brief pause. Not exactly a surprising revelation, seeing how she primarily used the ancestor of the firearm to fight.

Expectedly, we headed towards the G.U.G., a walk that I was quite familiar with by now. Amusingly, if I began at my own home, I’d probably get lost on the way there, though.

After a brief conversation with a receptionist--not one that I’ve seen before; they seem to have an endless supply of personnel they rotate between frequently--we were directed to head upwards to the next floor for that was where, apparently, the so-called armoury of the G.U.G. was situated.

And, for an armoury, I could see why it was called that. Then again, it also reminded me of a shopping centre. There were numerous shops inset into constructed walls that segmented the floor. On display were a variety of medieval weapons--I saw numerous swords, spears, and bows, in fact--as well as shops displaying modern firearms.

Having such historically disparate items being sold mere feet from each other certainly made for a perplexing, but interesting, sight. However, my goal here wasn’t to merely sightsee but to attempt to actually buy something.

As such, as soon as the pertinent store came into view, I walked towards it with purpose, Luna promptly following behind me--a change from usual.

Inside, the shop was rather small and cramped. Larger shops seemed more expensive but this shop seemed like something that would offer things in my price-range, assuming I even had enough capital to begin with.

It was empty, and dusty. One wall was lined with varying models of handguns, some familiar to me, bearing distinct characteristics identifying them as descendants of popular weapons during the early 20th century, while others were more modern, and more esoteric, and alluded my ability to recognise them.

“Looking for a gun?” A tall, bespectacled man asked me. His short, dark hair was combed back and he was wearing the uniform of the G.U.G., just of a different colour to others, firmly cementing the fact this emporium was wholly owned by the G.U.G.

“Yep. How expensive are they?” Of course, I had done some research on the matter before-hand, to ascertain if it was even worth a trip here, but it didn’t hurt to ask.

“Hold on. Before that, I’m going to need to see some identification,” He responded predictably.

I took out my G.U.G.-issued identity card and passed it into his awaiting hands. He quickly read over the information, compared my face to the face on there, and typed something into his computer before passing it back to me.

“All good. Well, firstly, have you brought a gun before?” He asked me in a serious tone.

“No, I haven’t,” I replied honestly.

“Okay. So, unless you have a firearms or shotgun license, any gun that you buy from the G.U.G. are solely meant to clear hives with. That means you are not to be seen with them in public and you cannot use a gun in public unless you are in the vicinity of a hive and have intent to clear said hive. You understand?”

I nodded, taking all this in. No way did I want to be arrested for forgetting something so simple.

“Good. Now, if I may ask, what price range were you looking at?” His tone loosened as soon as he slipped back into what was clearly no longer rehearsed.

“£150? I can go up to $170, though,” I hesitantly got out, my voice quiet. I was unsure whether that would even be enough to buy a single handgun.

“Not a lot, then. Well, lucky for you, we have cheap guns expressly made for new users,” Saying that, he pulled up a catalogue from under the counter he was standing behind.

“For that amount, we’ve got three guns we can offer you:” And with that said, he explained the specifications of the three guns he showed to me, using a lot of technical terminology that I didn’t understand nor fully understood the implications of.

“So, which one will it be?” He prompted me to come to a decision.

From what I understood, the guns were all quite similar. They were designed a few decades ago during the same time period, and were each copying a trend at the time, hoping to make it big in whatever country they originated from. Not that it was successful, of course.

As such, they all performed quite similar. If I was a lesser woman, I’d probably go by appearance alone but I wanted something practical--something I would use.

“Could I hold them?” I inquired. Ultimately, it could be that the ergonomics were the deciding factor for me.

“Sure,” He answered, and wandered into a backroom hidden from sight. He quickly returned, however, with three boxes in tow. “For safety, none of these currently have live ammunition in, the safety has been engaged in all of them, and they have all been disassembled to ensure no issues from manufacture,” He explained as he laid down the three boxes before me.

Clearly, I was allowed to open them and inspect them on my own time.

Which I indulged in. Overall, they felt all quite similar. Purpose-wise, they were all made with the intention of self-defence, sporting short barrels and a small size perfect for carrying around with you. That small size cut down on the material needed to make them, which resulted in them being cheaper from other models on the market.

Unexpectedly, however, was that, despite their small sizes, they were all quite heavy to hold. Maybe I subconsciously compared their weights to plastic water pistols--the only ‘guns’ I had held in my entire life up to this point--but only once their grips were in my hands did I fully understand that they were made of metal.

I looked them over, felt them up, and overall just inspected them to the best of my abilities, attempting to see which one I’d most prefer. I even used my System Specialisation as well, seeing if maybe that could give me some important insight.

In the end, though, primarily due to my own ignorance, it was actually weight that made my decision. I bought the lightest gun of the three; it’d probably be easier to get used to handling if it didn’t feel like lugging round a dumbbell all the time.

Luna, throughout, was silent, just interestedly staring at my analysis process as well as the guns hanging on the wall. At one point, I did ask her for her opinion, but she wasn’t much help.

Having decided, I paid the price of £160 and now owned a gun along with its respective paperwork proving I legally own the model that I do.

To be honest, I expected it to be more exciting than this. It just feels like any other purchase.

The man also offered to sell me a holster but, embarrassingly so, even the cheapest was too expensive for me. Besides, I hadn’t even intended to buy a holster in the first place--mostly because I just forgot they existed--and so I decline the offer.

However, he did remind me that I’d have to buy ammunition for my gun as well.

“How much will ammunition cost?” I asked, already preparing to leave.

“Ammunition? It’s subsidised by the G.U.G. There’s a shop just down the way,”  He pointed towards the wall of the shop he was facing, “Show them that paperwork or the gun, and they’ll top you up.”

“Thank you.”

With all that said and done, I, obviously made my way over to the place I had been pointed to. Luna seemed to have something to say but the walk was so short she hadn’t the time.

Inside what seemed to be a rather large store was a rather small space in comparison. There were a few chairs dotted about the place, currently empty, and a woman standing behind a counter. The walls were relatively bare and the whole place just felt dead--perhaps apt for a place so intertwined with machines of death.

As directed, I showed her my paperwork--as well as my new pistol for good measure--and was asked numerous questions: how many cartridges do I want; would I like to buy additional magazines; would I want to buy a bag for loose bullets as well?

It was an enlightening experience and after careful explanation of what everything entailed, I came to my conclusion; I was given thirty-two bullets and agreed to spending a few pounds on a small bag to hold the bullets in.

Now, finally, after over an hour spent inside the G.U.G. building, I had bought a gun and the necessary ammunition for it.

Without wasting any time, I was outside before I knew it, and Luna finally found some time to ask me the question that she had been burning to.

“Why buy such a small gun?” Needless to say, it was not what I expected.

“What do you mean?” I asked as we began to walk our way back to her place.

“When you said you were going to buy a gun, I was expecting one of those big ones, not something that can fit in just one hand. It seems a bit pointless when you already have a bow.”

“How is it pointless?” I asked curtly, my tone not the friendliest.

“I mean, it’s not much of an upgrade, is it? What’s wrong with a bow?” She replied firmly.

“It’s smaller-”

“A bow isn’t exactly unwieldy,” She interrupted.

“Not for you. And, also, don’t you remember that Owen had a gun?”

“Yes. And?”

“Those monsters were hurt far more by bullets than by arrows. You were a bit useless back then,” I replied hesitantly.

“But we have C1, now; it’s not a problem,” She didn’t seem hurt by my insinuation.

“You have C1; she’s your servant,” I stressed, “When I went to clear a hive by myself, none of you were there-”

“Then don’t take that risk, Charlotte,” Luna interjected, stopping in her tracks and causing me to pause as well. “Don’t go into a hive without me and you’ll be safe”

“Argh! That’s besides the point,” I groaned in frustration, struggling to get my thoughts in order.

“Hey; I care about you,” Luna responded defensively.

“Yes, okay, I know. Just... Look, Luna,” I began. “I feel safer with a gun rather than a bow. At least with a gun, I’m not reliant on my Specialisation to use it. And, I know, it doesn’t matter with you, your servants, and everything, whether I’m fighting or not. It’s about how I feel.”

Thankfully, Luna didn’t interrupt me this time and, actually, looked a bit scolded once I had finished.

“I see,” Was all she said for a few seconds before quietly, almost whispering: “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I exhaled. “Let’s just… Get going.”

And so we did, backtracking the walk to Luna’s homely warehouse. As soon as we stepped through the doors, I was promptly assaulted by a smiling S2 hugging me because ‘I seemed a little sad.’ It wasn’t for long, and the suddenness of it did more to cheer me up than the action itself, but it certainly distracted my mind from things.

Has Luna said something that makes the servants want to hug me more. Is she trying to subtly affect a change in me through exposure?

Thankfully, the quiet atmosphere from the walk back rapidly disappeared and the rest of the afternoon was much like the morning, infact; full of joyous and interesting conversations.

Rather fascinating, actually, was what the servants liked to talk about--for they did, in fact, have their own opinions and desires. Mostly, it was about knowledge; seeing how they were quite young, they had yet to develop hobbies (though C1 did stress she found cooking food--as simple as it was for them--to be relaxing and de-stressing) and so mostly conversed about common opinions.

For instance, Luna owned a few books (where, I had no clue) and all three servants expressed a strong enthusiasm towards reading. Whether the mere accumulation of information was rewarding, or getting lost in the fantasy of fiction, they had different reasons for enjoying a quiet read.

And then there was also exercising with Luna, for she actually worked out whenever I wasn’t around--and sometimes, when I actually was around. S1, especially, valued the activity. Did exercise actually help hearts in strengthening their bodies? I had my doubts.

However, eventually, as the sun lowered over the horizon and the daylight that was seeping in through the half-smashed windows was beginning to fade, it was time for me to get going. I said my goodbyes and left for my own house, a place I was spending less and less time in, lately.

It was nearing winter, this time of year, and the nights were descending quickly. By the time I left the warehouse, street lamps were already flickering on, illuminating the barely dim road in front of me. It was by no means dark yet, but it was subdued.

It was calming, this time of day. I had fond memories of it but as I grew older, I became more jaded towards the night sky. Sure, from the inside, I was filled with nostalgia, but once I was actually out and about on a desolate road, there was that creeping threat inside me. Maybe it was my cautious nature, but I just couldn’t feel comfortable walking around alone like this.

There’s a reason I tend to walk briskly.

And, tonight, it seemed my fears finally came true.