Robert Reed is a really great guy, but it takes most people a long time to figure that out. He is an ex-Marine who got his left leg blown off, but he got a good prosthetic and is still as gruff and hardcore as they come. But he's also smart. Reed wasn't just an ordinary grunt; he was in some kind of special forces doing secret stuff that he never talked about.
He is exactly the last person you would expect to be the proud proprietor of the best geek hangout on this end of the state, but that's what he does now. After he was discharged, he bought an old bar in the middle of nowhere, decorated the walls with weapons and anime posters and tribal masks and all kinds of cool stuff, and started selling Magic cards and D&D books and bootleg anime straight from Japan.
The place soon became known as a great card shop and general hangout. Reed was fair, honest, and smart, and his time in the service had taught him a few things about managing people. Somewhat surprisingly, he tolerated no profanity or cheating and worked to keep the environment clean. He would quickly kick out anyone he didn't like the looks of, and he was a good judge of character. This meant that his place was also good for girls and kids, which of course increased its popularity with the guys.
But his specialty was cosplay stuff. He had a workshop at home with welding equipment and machine tools, and he knew how to use them. He loved to tinker, and it wasn't long before people were asking him to make the weird weapons and armor they had seen in some show or comic book. He did a really good job with it, but he would only do something for you if he liked you.
He must have been raking in money, but he never seemed to spend it. Sure, he kept fixing up the place to make it nicer, but he still drove an old truck and seemed to live frugally.
But one day, there was a new decoration on the wall. It was a museum-quality display case of steel and bulletproof glass, and inside was the coolest thing I had ever seen. It was a hand grenade, pineapple style, made out of sterling silver. Each square was engraved, in gold, with a cross or a fish or a chi-rho.
Reed was peppered with questions, but all he would say was "Holy Hand Granade. Made it myself. Absolutely guaranteed to take out a whole roomful of vampires or demons."
It really was a piece of art. But there was no doubt in anybody's mind that it was real, that it was loaded with explosive and would go off if you pulled the pin. It was a weapon fit for a king, a modern Excalibur. If you looked at it, you could almost see it going off in the middle of a horde of vampires and vaporizing them all in a silvery flash of holy shrapnel.
That Holy Hand Grenade drew in crowds, and made the place even more cool and popular. But the place was not packed all the time. One Saturday, around 10:40 in the morning, I was the only one in there. I was actually doing homework for my English Literature class, taking advantage of the Wi-Fi hotspot and the pleasant atmosphere.
But then, a strange man walked in. He was an adult Mexican guy, short and wiry. I had never seen him before, and neither had Robert. The Mexican glanced at me, then went over and talked to Robert.
I turned back to my work, so I didn't hear what they said at first. But then Robert's voice boomed across the room. "No. It's not for sale."
That made me listen closely. The Mexican said, "I am willing to give you one hundred thousand dollars in cash, plus an amount of gold and silver equal to five times what you used in its construction, plus a genuine Koizumi katana."
I was stunned. This was an incredible offer. Why would the strange man want the hand grenade so much? Was he some kind of fanatic art collector? But if so, he would not want to give up a samurai sword.
It seemed to me that he was a con artist, and I waited for Reed to throw him out of the shop. But the ex-Marine said, "Show me the weapon."
The Mexican went outside to his black SUV and returned with two briefcases and a sheathed katana. He put all of these on the counter, opening the briefcases. One of them had six bars of silver and one bar of gold, and the other was full of bundles of cash.
But Reed ignored these and unsheathed the weapon. It was beautiful. There was a dragon engraved along the side, and some trick of the light made the blade look like it was glowing with an inner fire.
Robert drew one of the many Ka-bar knives that he keeps on his person at all times, and drove it into the counter. He then shifted the katana into a two-handed grip and swung it a few times. It looked like he knew exactly how to handle the weapon; I had always known that he knew martial arts but I had never suspected that he was so advanced.
Then, with an unbelievably swift and smooth motion, Reed swung the katana in a sideways arc, aiming for the knife in the counter. Now, katanas are made of really good steel, but so are Ka-bars, and what I saw next should not have happened.
The katana cut right through the knife like it was made of cardboard. At the moment of impact, there was a great flash of orange light, and I saw the shape of a dragon before my eyes.
But then, the dragon was gone as soon as it had arrived. The katana finished its arc, and Reed brought it to a stop. The Ka-bar had been cut cleanly in half. The cut was so clean that the blade was still stuck in the counter, and the handle had only moved a few feet away.
Reed sheathed the weapon, nodding as he did so. He then took a key from his belt, walked over to the hand grenade's display case, unlocked it, and handed the grenade to the Mexican.
The Mexican put the grenade in a strange-looking box and said, "Thank you, sir."
Reed replied, "Happy hunting".
The Mexican man walked out of the shop, and Reed took the two briefcases and the katana to the back of the store. When he came back, he walked over to me and said, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't spread this around. It could lead to some awkward questions and some unwanted attention."
"Of course", I replied.
I'm still not sure what happened that day, but I have started to wear a cross around my neck, just in case.
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