L1A1 Parts Kit

>you'd always wanted an FAL, but they'd always been outside your reach due to circumstance
>until now that is
>you were lucky enough to find an honest to goodness L1A1 parts kit from the 80s at a gun show 
>the steel parts were in great shape 
>the furniture was a bit worn but in a way that only adds to the beauty of true milsurp 
>you were even able to snag it for $500
>the IMBEL receiver had come in and it was time to assemble your first proper full-power cartridge firing battle rifle

>assembling the parts kit was much more tricky than you thought it would be
>it would've been easier to just leave it with a gunsmith, but fuck that 
>this is YOUR rifle and you are going to assemble it yourself 
>plus it's cheaper 

>you smile as you take the rifle from the barrel vise then start placing the lightly oiled internals where they go
>you slide the dust cover into place and take a moment to look over the now completely assembled L1A1 making sure nothing is out of place
>you nod satisfied everything looks correct then shoulder the rifle slot the mag, work the cocking handle, loading the snapcap, and smile as you hear the crisp snap of the firing pin striking the snap cap
>humming you work the handle, eject the snap cap then set the rifle onto the table >you sit back and sigh happily as you look at your assembled L1A1
>satisfied you stand up and turn around to put the barrel vise back into its box only to hear a very loud gasp


>turning back towards the table you see don't see your rifle, but instead a young woman laying on the table clutching her chest
>she's gasping hard between coughs like she'd been holding her breath for almost too long 

"What the- Hey, are you okay?!" 
>you ask as you lean in placing a hand on the young woman's face 
>glancing down at her you realize she's wearing a slightly faded and rumpled DPM top and equally faded khaki pants with black boots 
>in a flash you remember the stories you'd heard about certain guns having spirits of their own 
>Waffegeist 

>it would seem that L1A1 parts kit wasn't made from a run of the mill rifle

"W-where am I?"
>she manages after catching her breath
>her voice is rough but you can tell she has a slight British

>you tell her your home state's name, while handing her your open water bottle 
>you stay quiet as she gulps down the water still a bit shocked at this revelation

"This is America?"
>she asks rubbing her eyes before looking up at you 
>you notice her eyes are a faded blue

"Yeah. North [state] specifically."
 
"I'm really whole again? This isn't a dream?"

"Nope, not a dream. I put you back together with a new receiver."

"Y-you mean you put me back together from my parts and didn't even need a license?" 
>she asks and sits up a bit wobbly 

"Don't need a license in America." 
>you reply with a shake of your head

"You're my new owner then?"
>she asks looking you over her eyes hopeful

"Yep."

"And it's okay for you to keep me?" 
>she asks a bit nervously

"Right to keep and bear arms." 
>you reply with a grin 

>she leaps into you 
>pressing herself into your chest

"Thank you thank you thank you!"
>she repeats as she buries her face into your chest
>you're caught a bit off guard but place your arms around her before she looks up at you 

"Don't let them crush me like my rackmates '88 and '96. Please, not again." 
>she pleads gripping your shirt and looking up at you, her blue eyes watery with tears

"Don't worry you're not going anywhere and neither am I." 
>you say rubbing her back

"Use me if they try and come for us, Anon. I promise I won't let you down..."
>she says as she rests head on your chest