**Muzzleloader Dreams: A Gunsmith Cats Adventure**

Prompt: Gunsmith cats fanfiction Becky tells may and rally she got approached by representative from pedersoli asking if they would be willing to sell pedersoli replica muzzleloaders in the shot

Becky sat on a stool in the brightly lit corner of the Gun Shoppe, cleaning the barrel of a vintage rifle, the warm sun streaming through the window illuminating the dust motes floating in the air. The familiar scents of gun oil and metal filled the air, a comforting reminder of her passion. May and Rally were busy tending to the customers, handling transactions and chatting about the myriad of weapons that adorned the walls. The shop was their sanctuary, a place where bullets flew and engines roared, but above all, it was a hub of excitement and adventure. “Hey, Becky!” called May, leaning over the counter with her trademark grin that seemed to light up the room. “Any luck with that rifle? I’m telling you, it will be a showstopper at the next competition.” “Almost there!” Becky smiled back, wiping her brow and inspecting her handiwork. Just then, the bell above the door jingled, and a tall gentleman in a well-tailored suit stepped inside. His steel-gray hair and sharp features caught Becky’s attention immediately. He scanned the store with a discerning gaze before striding confidently toward the trio. “Good afternoon, ladies,” he said, his voice deep and resonating. “I’m Gordon Pedersoli, the representative from Pedersoli Firearms.” Becky’s heartbeat quickened—a name steeped in history and quality. May’s smile widened. “Wow! It’s really nice to meet you, sir! What brings you to our little shop?” “I’ve been following your operations here for a while,” Gordon replied, a hint of admiration in his tone. “You’ve built a solid reputation for not only your gunsmithing skills but also your customer service. I believe we could expand your offerings significantly.” “Expand?” Rally echoed, eyebrows raised in curiosity as she wiped her hands on her apron. “Yes,” Gordon continued, pulling out a sleek, leather-bound catalog filled with meticulous images of beautifully crafted muzzleloaders. “I’m here to discuss the possibility of selling Pedersoli replica muzzleloaders in your shop.” Becky’s eyes widened with anticipation. “You mean actual replica models? The ones that look like they belong in a museum?” “Exactly!” Gordon nodded enthusiastically. “Each piece is handcrafted using traditional methods, offering historical accuracy and exceptional craftsmanship. We have a passionate community of history enthusiasts and competitive shooters who would love to see these in your shop.” “What’s the catch?” Rally asked, always the practical one. “No catch, just a lucrative arrangement for both parties. Your shop will benefit from adding a premium line, and in return, your customers will gain access to some of the finest muzzleloaders available,” Gordon explained. “Together, we can host events and workshops to teach the art of muzzleloading.” Becky’s mind raced with the possibilities. Imagine creating a space dedicated to these historical pieces, showing customers the skill involved in handling such weapons. The thought was intoxicating. “Is there a minimum order or specific inventory we’d need to begin?” “Let’s start with a limited selection—perhaps five or six key models. If they sell quickly, we can expand based on your customers’ interests,” Gordon suggested, flipping through the catalog to point out particular pieces: gorgeous rifles with ornamental stocks, classic pistols with engraved brass fittings—a true collector's dream. May gasped at one of the photos. “Look at this one, Becky! It’s stunning! It looks like it could tell a hundred stories!” “The history behind these pieces makes them even more interesting!” Becky added, her pulse quickening at the thought of the prospects. “When can we receive a sample?” Gordon smiled broadly. “If you give me the green light today, I can have samples shipped to you by the end of the week. That way, you can see them for yourselves before making a decision for the rest of the inventory.” The room buzzed with excitement, and ideas began swirling in their heads. They discussed hosting a series of workshops, perhaps even inviting locals to experience the muzzleloading process hands-on. Becky envisioned a community event: families learning about historical firearms alongside photography displays of the replicas. After much consideration, they all turned to each other, their faces lit with enthusiasm and determination—a shared glance that spoke volumes. “I think we should do it,” May said, her eyes sparkling with conviction. “This could put our shop on the map!” “Absolutely!” Becky agreed, clapping her hands together. “We have to broaden our horizons and share the beauty of these pieces with our customers.” “That’s settled then. I’ll coordinate with my team and ensure everything is seamless,” Gordon said, grinning at their enthusiasm. “I’ll draw up a contract, and we can finalize everything later this week.” As he began to write, Rally injected her practical insight. “Just remember, service doesn’t stop with selling. We’ll need to provide support, maintenance, and follow-ups to build that community you envision.” “Exactly,” Gordon replied, nodding appreciatively. “I admire your forward-thinking approach. With the right mindset and effort, we could create something truly unique.” Becky couldn’t contain her excitement. The Gunsmith Cats had always been a “go big or go home” kind of team, and the prospect of adding Pedersoli replicas to their offerings felt like the next big leap. “Think of all the stories we’ll be able to tell—the people we’ll meet,” she mused aloud, imagining lively conversations about replica history and propagation of the sport. “Just think,” Rally added, a bright smile on her face, “we could even start a local competition with a history theme!” “What better way to create excitement around these incredible pieces?” Becky pressed, her mind racing with ideas. With the agreement set and the initial adrenaline beginning to subside, Gordon gave them a respectful nod. “Excellent. I look forward to working with you on this venture.” As he prepared to leave, the bell over the door jingled again, and Becky felt exhilarated. The day had turned from mundane to extraordinary, and the love for their craft was tinged with the touch of something new. “I guess we better make sure we’re ready for the next adventure!” Rally called, as they gathered around to discuss their plans for the future. The road ahead was uncharted but exciting, perhaps fueled by the spirit of craftsmanship and community that would redefine their little shop.