Title:           Part I, Untitled Story
Author:          RockitJoe1
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/6nsLerdE
First Edit:      Thursday 27th of December 2012 10:16:06 AM CDT
Last Edit:       Thursday 27th of December 2012 10:16:06 AM CDT

My first fic/writing/whatever, done with greentext because that's what I'm most comfortable with. You could say that it is an AiE, but that might be misleading. I don't intend to follow any storyline or form that you would see in the AiE threads, its just essentially a fanfic. With Anon as the main character. Also, I'm a huge faggot. Just thought you would want to know. Also, it has a long intro, so do not fear, ponies will be in the story. I'm a /k/ommando too, if it's not obvious by halfway into the prologue.
 
>You are Anonymous
>It's been crazy lately
>Every day there are new stories of school shootings and terrorist attacks
>Contrary to what many think, it's not just the U.S.
>Over in Europe, there are explosions and assassinations every hour
>Another World War is on the horizon
>Terrorist groups that claim responsibility for the attacks are firmly rooted in the governments of Eastern Europe and the Middle East
>Some Americans want to intervene in these countries, others think that the government should focus on internal affairs
>The world is a shithole
>You live in the outskirts of Atlanta, Georgia
>People deemed "dangerous" are being rounded up daily
>It's Monday morning, at 11:45
>Your phone rings, it's Tyler
"Hey bud, what's goi..."
>"Shut up dude, listen. I just need 5 mi..."
"Is everything alright man? You sou..."
>"Anon, shut the fuck up. This is not a fucking game"
>Tyler is not normally like this, you guess it's best to be silent for now
>"Joe is dead, you need to follow my..."
>Hold up. Joe? As in the third member of the Bro-tainian Triumvirate, knew him since birth Joe?
"WHAT?!?"
>"SHUT THE FUCK UP AND LISTEN. I'll explain everything in a minute
>"I'll explain about Joe in a second. I need you to multitask though. Do you still have your "collection"?
>Though you have some insane questions and doubts rushing through your head, you answer
"Yeah man, you know me"
>"You need to get rid of it, hide it, or be ready to lose it and potentially die. I reccomend putting what you can in PVC pipes and burying them. Joe's wife called about 30 minutes ago, told me the story. Some ATF guys came up to Joe's door and demanded for him to hand over 23 registered firearms. Though you and I know he had more, those were the ones registered. He refused, they shot him on the spot. They were about to kill Beth, but there were gunshots down his street, so they loaded his shit onto a trailer and went to investigate"
"So....Joe is dead?
>"Yeah. I know it's sad and I'm ready to burst into treats, but you need to start packing your shit away. The ATF people are going around the country, taking any registered firearm. I don't know how they're doing it, some new bill I think. I don't even know if it's an official law, but the fact remains that shit is hitting the fan."
>At this moment, you put the phone on speaker, and begin to gather your guns. You have more than any human being needs, as did Joe. Tyler has a respectable collection as well, or so you thought.
>"The reason I'm warning you is because I gave up your name. I didn't want to, but it's not like..."
>Your name was mentioned
>YOUR name was mentioned
>This finally registers mid-sentence
"HOLD THE FUCK UP. WHAT?"
>I couldn't give them everything. They had a list of the shit I had registered. My grandpa's over-under was on the list, so was his Luger and my 91/30. Those were the only ones registered that I couldn't give up. They asked where they were, I said I traded them to you. I'm sorry. You know what those mean to me."
>He pauses, as if you are supposed to forgive him.
"I understand man."
>You are having trouble thinking of what to do with all of your guns. They'll probably shoot you on sight for having this many. Might as well die with your friend being relieved.
>"Thanks man. That's why I called you, you need to gather your stuff and make a decision on what to do. You could hide the stuff they don't know about and give them what they do know about, that's what I did. There are probably lots of other things you could do that would end up with you dead. Some might leave you with a few guns. I don't know."
"Look, I'll call you if everything goes okay. Right now I have to go though. If what you said was true, and I am on the list, then I need to get some shit done."
>"Good luck. Don't die either. Without Joe and you, I'm not sure what I would do with myself. Be careful, anon."
>You hang up and take 15 seconds to determine your course of action.
>You do have a shitload of PVC from the pool project, you could fit what you can in those, and bury the others in surplus crates.
>As you walk out back to retrieve the pipes and crates, you see that the faggot neighbor kids have cracked nearly all of the pipes with rocks.
>How the fuck do kids crack 7" PVC pipe with rocks?
>You are happy that you bought those surplus crates though
>They used to use them to ship Mosin Nagants around Russia. Some old dude sold the empty crates for $25 a pop. You bought 10, thinking you could maybe turn them into nice tables and make a profit.
>Thank the Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ that you are a procrastinator
>You open two of them and clear out the little shelves for the Nagants. Now you can fit other rifles into them.
>You get about 15 minutes into loading various long arms, pistols, and ammunition into the crates when you hear the first gunshots.
>They must be coming from Mr. Cole's house, the only other gun owner in this pussy ass neighborhood.
>You haul the 4 loaded crates into the back of your Sierra 3500.
>It's obvious at this point that the only option is to run from the Super-Pigs, so you grab a box of MRE's, and your bug out bag
>Time to get the fuck out of here. The last thing you grab is your Taurus 608 and a few half-moon clips for it full of .357
>At this point, they are probably finishing their clean up of a 67 year old man who never did anything wrong
>No time for feels though, you have to get moving