"I'm sorry Gavin, but we have to let you go," Michael said. Gavin sat on the other side of the desk, taking in the information. He had worked at Lone Star Tactical for three years now. He was a good gunsmith and had learned a lot from the old timers at the shop. He got along with everyone and until recently, there were no signs of discontent from management. "Why?" was all he could ask.

"It's the economy," Michael explained, "With the lock downs, we are having a hard time paying you guys. Hell, my hours are being cut to compensate. I'm sorry Gavin. You're a good kid and a good gunsmith, you'll be missed here." Gavin stood and shook Michael's hand.

Michael was a large man who stood a goo head taller than Gavin. Broad shouldered and well muscled. His head had no hair save the beard he grew. He followed Gavin out of the office as they spoke further, "At least you'll be able to collect unemployment for a time."

"It'll be tough, but I may try and start my own shop," Gavin said, "But I was hoping to get a few more years here before then." Michael nodded, "If you need, I can talk to Dan and see if he can give you some advice."

"Thank you," Gavin said as they walked into the shop. Lone Star Tactical was a large building. The front was were they sold guns and other gear someone would need to operate their firearms. A hallway lead from the front to the shop in the back. In the hallway were two doors. One led to the office and the other led to a classroom where they taught courses from Hunter Safety to Concealed Handgun Courses. The back was were the shop was. It was a large room filled with tools and workbenches. There, the gunsmiths would repair and clean guns, mount scopes and optics and restore antique firearms. Each gunsmith had their own bench and tools of the trade. Gavin stopped at his bench.

On it was a pile of disassembled parts to a 1911 and some of his tools. Gavin began to put the gun back together. "This stupid lockdown is a pain in the ass," he complained, "Money is tight as it is."

"Don't blame me," Michael responded, "Blame the idiots in D.C."

"At least my landlord has to give me some leniency now that I am out of work."

"If worst comes to worse, just cough in his face and say you haven't been feeling well," Michaels said with a grin. Gavin smiled, "Not a bad idea, but I won't. The landlord is pretty nice about things. As long as you pay on time and follow the contract, there will be no problems with him."

"A landlord who isn't out to screw over his tenants? I thought they were a myth."

"The smart ones don't make the papers. Ol' Tom is thirty years retired now and is just getting some extra income on top of his pension. His son will be taking over pretty soon anyway so things may change."

"Know his son?"

"Not really. I hear he is a hard ass like his dad, but fair. I've also heard he's a dick."

"You'll be fine," Michael said, "If he kicks you out, just make sure he's in the wrong."

"I will. I'll drop my keys off when I'm done here." Gavin said as he finished putting the gun back together. The 1911 was a hundred year old design made back in 1911. It was a steel frame with more pins and springs that one would think necessary. He dry fired the gun to make sure the gun worked mechanically and slid in the magazine. He chambered a round before holstering it. It was soon concealed by his shirt as he pulled it over it. He then began to pack up his tools into the tool box.

It wasn't large, just big enough to hold the screwdrivers, files and the saw he used. On his way out, he stopped by the office where Michael was getting ready to leave. Gavin handed him the small ring of keys that gave him access to the whole shop, "Thanks for everything." Michael shook Gavin's hand, "I'll be seeing you around."

Gavin left he store, waiving a farewell to the cashiers and loaded up his truck. It was an old white Toyota truck, one of the ones that are referred to as unkillable. And not for the lack of trying on Gavin's part when he was younger. Each time he did some reckless thing with it, it just came back like nothing happened. It was just past noon as he pulled out of the parking lot.

It was mid June in Huston. The temperature easily reaching a hundred degrees. Normally there would be some traffic, but with the lockdown, there was almost no one on the street. He drove towards the grocery store, knowing it would still be open. He had a list on his phone of what he needed to get. Putting on his mask, he stepped out of the truck and went shopping.

He made it quick, just in an out for the essentials, stopping just long enough to have his temperature tested at the door. Toilet paper was a thing of the past apparently so he had to skip it. He grabbed milk, juice, steaks for the grill, carrots, apples, cucumbers cereal and cookies for Lucy. Loading the groceries up, he headed home. When he arrived at the apartment complex, he was greeted buy an old man with a Vietnam Veteran hat.

He sat in his usual spot outside the door. He was enjoying the summer heat with an ice-cold beer in hand and his butt firmly seated in a lawn chair. "Hey Tom," Gavin said. Tom looked up from his newspaper, "Why you back so early?"

"Got laid off," Gavin said, "The store can't afford to keep me on." Tom nodded, "Then rent will be late then."

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"No, I can pay for this month and the next, but unless I can find some other method of income, I may need a break."

Tom went back to his paper, "Just pay for the next couple of months and you'll be set. Times are going to be hard for everyone. Have you told Lisa yet?"

"Not yet. Haven't had time, but with her starting up her new job, she should be able to support both of us for a time."

"Good luck then, just let me know when you need a break." Gavin thanked the old man and walked into the building. He took the elevator to his floor. It was apartment 308. It had a view of the parking lot. It was a one bedroom, one bathroom apartment with the kitchen and the living room separated by a counter. Gavin set the groceries on the counter and began to unpack. He didn't get far when he found the note.

It was stuck to the fridge by a magnet. Hand written with a few errors crossed out with pen. It read:

Gavin, I'm sorry this is how it ends, but I'm not brave enough to face you. I met the man of my dreams, the man who is my soulmate. I have stopped loving you for a while now and this had been a long time coming, but i want you to know that I cherished the moments we had. Take care. -Lucy

And like that, his life was over.

Gavin moved into autopilot as he put the groceries away. So this was it. No job, the girlfriend he relied on to pick up the slack was gone. He pulled out his phone and checked his bank account, aside from his private savings account, it was empty. That stung harder than the note.

When he and Lucy started to get serious, they decided to open a joint bank account put towards bills and on groceries. They had each set up automatic transfers to their personal accounts so they could use them for their own hobbies. They had managed to save up fifty thousand in the main account. Now Gavin only had a couple of thousand to his name.

They had been together since High School. They met during sophomore chemistry and had been going strong since. When they graduated, Gavin began working at Lone Star Tactical. He was not legally allowed to handle the hand guns, but everyone was careful not to say anything. Lucy got a retail job at a clothing store. She had recently got an opportunity to show the designs she had been working on throughout High School to an executive who was visiting the store. Gavin was looking forward to her career getting started. It would eventually mean they would have had to move, but as long as they were together, it was enough for him. And now she was gone. All of the money they had saved together was gone as well. He opened his liquor cabinet, a small space with only a few bottles in it. He removed one of them.

It was a fifty-year-old malt whiskey. It had been stored in a cedarwood barrel and fermented from a type of sweet grain. He spun the cap off it and took a swig from it. His tongue went numb from the sensation. The spirit burned as it ran down his throat. The warmth he gained gave him some comfort in the empty apartment. He looked out at the living room. It contained several bookshelves with fantasy novels and gunsmithing manuals. The were a some open spots from where Lucy's books used to be. He took another drink. With luck he'll be too drunk to care for the rest of the night. Then he felt it.

Gavin felt the hairs on his arms stand on end. He remembered reading the stories of people getting struck by lighting. It was one of the first signs, but he was inside. The room around him began to glow with a bluish, white color. He felt his feet lift off the floor as gravity shut off. He grabbed the counter with one hand, not wanting to let go of the whisky. It was an expensive bottle after all. But, before he could do anymore, he was jolted with pain and had a hard landing.

He was most definitely not in Kansas. He was in a room, surrounded by multiple people. There was a circle drawn into the ground with strange symbols. A woman was on all fours, breathing hard. "Did it work," she asked. Her accent sounded British. "You summoned a drunk Lucia," one of the people spoke. He was tall with ebony-azure skin, white eyes and long ears. His long hair shifted between starlight and night. Another figure knelt down and leaned in close. Gavin recognized her as what some stories would call a Demi-human.

Her hair and the fur covering her wolf-like ears and tail were white. Sky blue eyes stared into his as she crawled closer. She sniffed him before backing up. "He doesn't smell drunk," she said. Gavin sat up and listened to their argument as he took the occasional sip of his drink.

"You were suppose to summon one of the Far Seekers," the elf said. Lucia turned on him, "Shut it Ellendiel. It was your idea to preform the ritual without a name to call."

"Like they have names lying around," Ellendiel shot back, "Then you screw up the ritual and summon someone who is clearly from another world."

"Well, he can still be useful to us."

"Fine. Tell me Outworlder, what skills and magic do you possess?"

"I am a gunsmith," Gavin answered after taking a swig of his drink, "But I have no magic to speak of." His answer seemed to prove Ellediel's point. "See? Useless," he sneered, "Like always, you have failed. Now we must face the consequences of this fool's errand."

Lucia turned to Gavin, "You are a Smith right?" Gavin nodded. "You said you were a gunsmith?"

"Yes."

"Why bother," Ellendiel said, "I have never heard of such a smith."

"I take it you don't have guns around here," Gavin said, setting the bottle down, "If that's the case, then I am more useful than you realize. What do you say ma'am. Care to take the chance on the poor idiot you summoned?" As he said that last part, he slid the bottle over to Lucia. She took a moment to study it before picking it up and taking a swig. She coughed from from the burning alcohol and set he bottle down. Gavin smiled at the turn of events, "Alright, I'll need some tools. But first, I need to finish that."