Nate Vis looked at the gun in front of him with cold eyes.

It wasn't that the gun was bad or something. Oh no, it was great.

The problem was from the customer standing in front of him. Pale skin with blond hair and blue eyes with a very basic set of perfume on. Likely because they had run out of Cologne and he wanted to smell fresh.

Nate looked upon the gun the man had brought him again. Roman Spect 70.

Classic handle weight with some decent padding to make sure the gun didn't damage the hands of whoever was holding it. A basic modification to the sight as well.

The Spect 70 was normally a gun with a sight of around seventy meters. But the mod that was done. Nate touched the gun with his bare hands. Noting the way the man in front of him twitched a bit. Relatively recently from how the gun felt. Probably around several weeks ago. Nate guessed.

The mod that was done had extended the sightline from seventy meters all the way to around one hundred and fifty meters. The design was fairly practical as well. Coming from the Art of Vulcan, the cult of both Jewish and Islamic men and women who venerated Vulcan as a man blessed by God with the affinity to forge majestic arts.

So the guy who made this was either a beginner or some random cult figure. Looking at the man again, Nate spotted a weird looking mark on his neck, either the sign of his Vat-Born heritage or some brand. Seeing as where the gun's mod came from. He guessed the latter.

"So, I found the problem with your firearm Mr...?" Nate asked.

"Gleen." Mr.Gleen said.

"Kay. The problem with your gun seems to be with the sight, now the basic mod added to the gun's effective range by around eighty meters." Nate explained.

"Yes, and what does this have to do with my gun's jamming rate?" Gleen asked.

"I'm getting there, the gun's range was significantly improved but the average need of repairs also went up as well. The Spect 70 is a rapid-fire gun. But even though you can see around one hundred and fifty meters away doesn't mean a gun can shoot accurately at that range."

"Why? You said it added to the gun's effective range?" Gleen asked.

"Yeah, by like one or two meters, you would need some additional mods to fire it to around one hundred and fifty meters. I'm guessing you slapped the gun's shit around when it didn't fire like you thought it would?"

"Yeah," Gleen said.

"Well then you're out of luck, I only take in repairs if they weren't caused by the owner," Nate said with a grin.

"What! That's fucking bullshit!" Gleen yelled, attracting some unwanted attention to him from everyone else in the shop.

Nate looked at Gleen and tried to reply to him the calmest he could. "Sir, you could come back tomorrow, our mechanic who repairs guns damaged by owners is available then."

"No, I can't!" Gleen shouted, Nate, watched with a smirk as one of the guards stationed around the shop came in to try and escort Gleen out.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Get your hands off me you fucking Vat!" Gleen yelled.

'There it was' Nate thought. The Cult of Vulcan was a lot of things, they were good engineers when it came down to it. A bit by the book if you asked him. But a lot of mechanics had to be by the book now. No, it wasn't the way they made stuff that bothered him. It was the way they acted.

The Cult of Vulcan was notorious for being avid followers of the True Birth papers.

After Gleen said that horrible slur. the guard stopped being nice, he unceremoniously picked him and threw him outside. Nate flinched as the man went tumbling onto the stairs, flinging slurs and insults and curse words left and right.

"You know you shouldn't have lied to him," Bos said behind him.

Standing behind him was a woman with short black hair with small Asian eyes. Her face was totally mismatched with her body though. Large bulging muscles with chest hair filled his face. Her abbs looking like they could easily crush him between them.

Her arms looked like they were bears. Which was true, if the massive claws that ended her fingertips were anything. Bos had the result of Serbian experiments to create a new breed of war Vat-Born. She was classified as a failure and dumped off at the earliest convenience.

That was when the war ended. Her lucky stars saved her.

Bos had then traveled, earning herself an implant that gave her some master crafting skills. Allowing her to open the shop he was in currently.

"What do you mean?" Nate asked innocently.

"We don't have the luxury of hiring engineers that only work on stuff damaged by their owners. You do the work a customer gives you without complaint." Bos said with a gruff voice, her eye's seeing through Nate's vain attempt to play innocent.

"Well, he doesn't know that." Nate said, "It's his fault that he's stupid enough to believe a very obvious lie."

"You shouldn't lie to customers in the first place Nate," Bos said.

"Is this about his... Affiliations?" Bos asked.

"..." Nate stayed silent. "I don't like to bring up personal issues with you or anyone else here Nate, but if this interferes with your work then you got to tell me. I can assign you somewhere else." Bos said.

"No that's fine" Nate replied.

"It won't happen again Bos the Boss," Nate promised.

"Good, and no wordplay else I tear you a new arsehole," Bos said before leaving.

Nate's day didn't change after that. he was assigned to close and lock the store when he left. Which made him complain to no end. In his mind of course. You didn't complain about work to your boss when they were one-third bear.

As morning shifted to afternoon, afternoon to evening, and evening to night. Nate tenderly closed the doors of the shop. he smiled at the name plastered on the door, The Rusty Asshole. It was crude, but having such a memorable name got people curious. And curiosity killed the cat.

Wealth-wise of course. He didn't condone murder unless it suited him.

"Hey Vat-Bitch, catch." Nate felt a hard something hit his head with full force. Nate collapsed on the ground and immediately went into the fetal position.

That didn't stop his attackers.

Blows from metal pipes, bats, and other heavy objects hit him with full force. Nate felt his bones creak and strain under the constant assault, his throat filling up with blood, his flesh swelling left and right till his entire body felt puffed up.

"How you like that Vat-Shit? Huh!?" "Kill yourself Soul-Less!" "You shouldn't be allowed to practice Vulcan's art!" On and on the insults rang back and forth, left and right.

Each new strike ringing with verbal abuse. After what felt like hours, the pipes and bats that had struck him dropped to their feet as they ran. Some tripped and fell while others managed to disappear into the shadows.

Nate heard people yelling for something, as his consciousness left his body. Nate did one thing that he had never done after that fateful day ten years ago. He cried.

Vat-Born are those biological creatures, as the name implies, that are born in vats. They were first created in the earliest days of human history. Through the thought process of eugenics and selective breeding. But this quickly petered out for more advanced and civilized means. It was during 52,37-28 B.R that the first true Vat-Born were created in the form of a whole rabbit. This would lead to massive advancements as new organic creatures would be created. Some fusions, other long lost myths. It was only until the American Revolutionary War did we see the first creation of the Vat-Born that we know today.

-Vat-Born, A History of our People