Part 1:

>"Anon."

>"Talia," you reply with a nod.

>The she-wolf hardly looks up from her "SURVIVAL" magazine as you lug your gear by the little RSO shack.

>She is your "partner" after all,

>It's expected that she'd let you get away with some stuff.

>"I sent a newbie to your bay," she calls after you, "mind helping her out?"

>But she does ask favors of you to keep up the arrangement.

>"Sure thing."

>"Name's Rebecca. Oh, and watch out-- those yeens are back in bay 5."

>Great.

>One or two of them found out about the range a month ago, and now there's a pack of them.

>It's unclear which is louder-- their laughing, or the stubby AK's they have with breaks.

>Fuck, you can hear it from here, even with your ears on.

>The cougar (both in age and in species) in bay 1 certainly isn't making all that noise with her pinked-up poly-pistol

>Contrary to what you normally see, her pastel piece isn't just a fashion accessory to go with her similarly-colored compression outfit

>...that or she's shooting from the bench to try and catch the handful of humans that come to the shooting range.

>Like yourself.

>She sees you approach with your range bag and flashes a fang-filled smile, setting the gun on the bench.

>You give a little wave back and try to slip past her through the small shooting shelter, but she gets up.

>"Hey there, sweetie," she says, her rumbling voice cutting straight through your muffs, "Need a lane?"

>"Nah, wouldn't want to bother you," you say; you try again to slip on by, but she leans against the wall, completely blocking the pathway.

>"Don't say that! I'd love a little company," she says.

>She leans down, seeming to fill the tiny shelter even more.

>"I could spot you... you could... check my form..."

>You swear her purring rattles the casings on the floor as she looms even closer, partway over you now.

>"Maybe some other time," you say, avoiding her eyes as you freeze, "RSO wanted me to check on someone in bay 6..."

>The cougar's ears flatten, and she draws back-- letting you breathe again.

>"I didn't think they let humies work at ranges," she says, giving you a suspicious eye.

>"I don't. She does," you say, meeting her gaze, "And she's my partner."

>There's a small flicker in her eyes, but it's not disappointment.

>"So..."

>She doesn't move; her nostrils flare a little.

>fuckfuckfuck

>You stay still, not breaking the gaze-- and after a moment, she steps back.

>"Okay," she says, crossing her arms, "but I'm not letting you through without getting your name. I'm pretty new too."

>You doubt it

>"Anon."

>"Well, Anon, I'll be here a while," she says, finally stepping out of your way. "I'm Laura, by the way."

>"See you around, Laura," you say as you pass by, feeling her tail brush against you on the way.

>One of her big mitts wraps around your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks.

>"Offer still stands," she purrs, before letting you go.

>You get out of there, hearing her load up another magazine

>That was too close-- you're lucky you were handloading before you got here.

>If you didn't smell especially like gunpowder-- like you do most of the time-- you'd have been fucked

>either from your nervous sweat, or the lack of Talia's scent on you.

>All the more reason you're glad you're at the range.

>You pass by bay 2, not even giving a thought of stopping there.

>Not after what happened last time.

>You do pause, however, as you approach bay 3; Aki's there.

>You can tell from the sound of apparent autofire.

>The bench is covered with her toys when you arrive-- very expensive, tactical toys.

>You've never been able to pin down where she gets her cash from-- all you know is that she's not an ordinary university student.

>You set your bag down and watch as she finishes her drill, multiple targets and barricades filling the normally vacant bay.

>She's behind the one with angled cutouts, near the center.

>The awkward angles don't slow her down; the cheetah darts between them in a blur, sending bursts through each.

>Each one landing completely in the A-zone.

>And you know she's only using semi.

>The supersonic crack of her last shot is still ringing off the earthen walls of the bay when she checks her targets.

>She doesn't smile, like every single other time.

>"You know, I think there's no automatics allowed on this range," you say when she starts back for the bench, striding with those long legs of hers.

>"Ha-ha," Aki sighs, setting her MP5 down, "That's just as funny as the first 20 times you said it, Anon."

>She starts loading magazines, pausing to look at you watching her.

>"What? You finally get a sense of taste?"

>"You left the safety off," you point out.

>"Psh. They just--"

>"Slow me down," you say with her, "I know. But it's on the bench, Aki. You can be slow."

>She snorts, continuing to fill up various magazines with frightening speed.

>Probably to show off.

>"Just because you can't have fun doesn't mean I shouldn't," she says.

>"I'll have you know I like my guns better than yours," you shoot back, grabbing your bag.

>"Don't lie," she laughs, "If the state let you, you'd get something made in the last 50 years."

>"...wouldn't you?"

>You shrug, shaking your head. Aki sighs again, turning her attention back to her gear.

>"I guess that's why you haven't tied it off with Talia, huh?"

>"Yep," you say, moving away, "Gotta go, Aki."

>"Catch you later, slowpoke."

>You've always liked Aki.

>She's focused, fast-- and not quite as lusty as the rest of the clientele here.

>Even if she can't seem to appreciate historic pieces quite like you can.

>

>At least she seems to appreciate you.

>When you reach bay 4, you wonder if Talia screwed up where the newbie went.

> You've never seen the fox that's out on the range there before

>The way she's flinching with each shot persuades you to check.

>She at least looks normal as you approach, dressed casual but appropriate

>A nice middle ground between Aki's hyper-tactical 'high-speed no-drag' setup and the inevitable low-top booty-short combo the yeens the next bay over are going to flaunt at you

>Fucking yeens

>Can hear their cackling in high-def now.

>You wait for the fox to finish the mag on her Sig before getting her attention

>"Are you Rebecca?"

>"Uhh, no, my name's Jen," she says, the reflective shades she has on making it even harder to read her face.

>"Oh, sorry. RSO said there was someone new she wanted me to help out, and..."

>You trail off, gesticulating; Jen laughs a little, nodding as she takes off the glasses.

>Purple eyes.

>"Don't worry, I understand," she chuckles, "mister...?"

>"Anon."

>"Mister Anon," she nods, "I'm new to the area, but I've got a basic grasp on all... this."

>She does a bit of gesticulating herself, sharing a small laugh with you.

>"But, if you don't mind me asking," she says, "What are you doing here? I thought humans could only use fireams with their wife?"

>"Not quite," you say. "The law is a modified version of old human ones; they just don't talk about it. Humans can have 'curio and relic' pieces. Basically anything older than 75 years."

>You could go on-- and for once, the person you're giving the spiel too looks interested.

>"Ahh. So, you're not here with anyone?"

>Damn.

>"I'm partners with Talia," you say, spirit slightly diminished.

>"That explains it," Jen nods.

>The look on her face is still one of interest-- but not lust.

>"You know, I moved here for a managerial position at the New Apple Museum," she says

>Your ears perk up

>"One of the tasks I have is organizing our collection and figuring out what we have. I haven't gotten to know the staff there real well yet, but I doubt any would have a specialty in human gear."

>She pauses, catching the smile on your face and mirroring it

>"I take it you'd be interested?"

>You're not sure you believe it.

>"Hell yeah!"

>"Good!" she says, "If you want to swap numbers, we can set things up later. I know you've got a newbie to attend to."

>You pull out your phone and she pulls out hers, and begin rattling off numbers to each other

>That's when you start to feel like there's something familiar about her

>"Oh, wait a sec Anon," Jen says as you turn to leave, "You mind if I get a quick picture of you? For my contacts? It'll make you easier to find."

>When you nod, she pulls you in for a selfie

>She's strong for her (relatively) slight size-- you can feel it as she takes her time getting the right angle and getting you to smile with her

>"There," she says after the click, releasing you, "I'll send that to you when I'm finished up here."

>"Okay, thanks," you say smiling back at her before going back to get your gear from the bench.

>Your heart soars

>Previously, your chances of getting into a museum or historical center seemed to be near zero. And now, you might be working in your actual specific field of interest.

>No more dealing with buncels moping around the library and trying to catch you when security's on break.

>As you move on to bay 5, you realize what it was that seemed so familiar about Jen:

>Her... scent? perfume?

>What she smelled like.

>Like coffee.

>You hate the stuff, but love the smell.

>That was probably it.

>And speaking of smells, you're able to smell the yeens as you walk into bay 5.

>Your hopes of sneaking through are quickly dashed when you see the small fleet of rusty shitboxes filling the space between the back berm and shooting shelter

>...Which is of course occupied by three of them.

>Though one of them is oddly small-- like, your size small.

>You grit your teeth, grip your bag, and head in.

>Just gotta act harder than you feel.

>"Oooh, whada we got here?" one of them croons, leaning down to you along with the other big one.

>Aaand there are the too-small crop tops.

>"We got us a little humie, Shay," the other says, "What you doin' here all by yourself, little guy? You get lost?"

>They cackle, stepping in your way as you make an effort to get around them.

>"I just want to get to the next bay over," you sigh, "You've seen me before, now just let me through."

>"Ooh! Hear that, Kris? He's makin' demands!"

>This makes them cackle even more.

>As you wait for them to finish, you realize you can no longer hear the staccato of shitty AK knock-offs.

>Your heart sinks.

>You see the rest of them that were out shooting are coming back to the shelter, grinning faces all around.

>Soon you're surrounded, and you swear you can feel the temperature rise. There's gotta be at least ten of them packed in here

>"Look, I just--"

>"He's makin' demands," Kris says over you, "He wants ta get through! Whadya think, girls?"

>Cue a cacophony of laughing, the only thing stopping them from grabbing you the fact they're all trying to go for it at once.

>"Oh, we can make a deal, lil' man," one of them says, "But you gotta do it for each of us."

>They seem to all like that suggestion.

>"Look!" you shout, managing to get their attention, "I'm with Talia! The RSO! She wants me over in 6, and if I don't get there, she'll--"

>A hand covers your mouth from behind, and you're pulled back against a plush body

>There's an audible sniff as one of them smells you before shoving you with a laugh, another one grabbing you before doing the same.

>"Don't smell like you are, humie," the first one says as you're bounced from hyena to hyena, "Smells like you're loose."

>"And we like loose prey," the last one holding you growls in your ear.

>"Back off, Roxxi," a less growly voice says, cutting through the air of laughing

>Things go quiet as the small one from before pushes her way through, the attention of the pack on her now.

>"You know B gets first dibs."

>"She ain't here," one of the big ones barks, "She ain't gonna know if we have a bit a fun."

>"She will," the little hyena says, crossing her arms. "Let him go."

>Now growling fills the air rather than distorted, yipping laughs.

>It's bad enough you're going to get passed around like a pleasure toy

>now you're going to have to watch this poor girl get her shit pushed in, and--

>Roxxi drops you back to the ground

>...Or maybe not.

>"Fuck you, Jamie," the big hyena growls, breaking from the semi circle and snatching up an AK from the bench.

>The others all snarl similar expletive-laden threats, and follow Roxxi, letting out bellows and growls as they magdump into the trash they've put out on the range.

>You stay frozen up as Jamie approaches you, unsure what to do.

>"You can relax," she says, her voice somewhat softer than the others', "I'm not gonna fuck you."

>"...Didn't think I'd be happy to hear that 'till now," you manage.

>"Come on, you need to move," she says, grabbing your hand and yanking you along toward bay 6, "Once they've let off that steam, they're gonna be back for more."

>She pulls you at arms length-- not at all possessively.

>And unlike every one of the others, she's not wearing obnoxiously risque clothes.

>Strange.

>"Do I want to know what happened back there?" you ask her when the two of you are out of sight, between the two bays.

>"Probably not," Jamie sighs, glancing down for a moment, "But I feel like I need to tell you anyway. It's... kinda my fault."

>Stranger and stranger.

>"There's not really any good ranges in New Apple," she says, "So we-- our pack, I mean-- were just kind of doing it where we could. Places we probably shouldn't have."

>You swear you can see blush under her fur.

>"Anyway, I did a little looking around and found this place. I- I went on my own at first, but then the others found out, and now, well..."

>She sounds and looks guilty-- you get the sense that she's not happy with the others, but can't do much about it.

>But then what the hell happened earlier?

>"Who's B?" you ask. Though you're not sure you want to know.

>"She's... the queen," Jamie says, still not meeting your eyes, "She leads our little... pack. She didn't come today because she's taking care of some business, but she's gonna know that you come here now."

>Finally she looks up at you, apology written all over her face.

>"I'd stick close to Talia next time you're here."

>With that, she walks back to bay 5.

>Well, shit.

>You take out the can of spray deodorant from your bag and spritz yourself

>Ever since the pack of yeens started showing up, you figured carrying it wouldn't be a bad idea.

>You might need to add in a can of mace for next time.

>Once you feel like you don't quite smell like the set of a YEEN'D video, you go to the shelter in bay 6, setting down your gear.

>The fact that there's no other stuff there tells you Rebecca is indeed new.

>When you look out at the range, you realize she's really new:

>Five yards away from the target stands an enormous tiger in a sweatshirt and shorts, all bunched up and leaning back. She flinches when whatever she's holding goes of, sending a spray of dirt up on the berm.

>You approach cautiously, not trying to make any loud noises, but not trying to be absolutely quiet either.

>"Rebecca?"

>She starts to turn and face you, before pausing and pushing the pistol way out in front of her, keeping it pointed down range.

>"Yes?" she says, her voice surprisingly soft, "Are you Anon?"

>"Yeah," you say, just now getting a look at her pistol, "Good job being safe!"

>She smiles a little; the little sub-compact looks tiny in her huge paws.

>"...That doesn't exactly look comfortable," you say, doing your best not to sound insulting.

>When you hang around a range full of armed anthro women twice your size, you get good at that.

>"No," she sighs, "It's not. I can hardly use the controls."

>"Do you mind if I take a look?"

>Rebecca hands it over to you; the Glock 42 is still warm from her grip.

>"So, this is your first time?" you ask, clearing the gun.

>"Yes," she says, watching you with clasped hands.

>"Is this yours?"

>The range doesn't do rentals, but you never know.

>"Yes," she says again, "I got it and the box of 380 from a pawnshop."

>You sigh. You don't want to know how much they ripped her off for.

>"You might want to get something else, unless you want it for your husband," you say, handing it back. "I think it's a confiscated human piece."

>"Oh."

>Her ears prick, and she freezes a moment before her ears, tail, and face all droop.

>"You can still have it," you say, realizing how 'confiscated piece' sounds in the context of a pawn shop, "It's legal and everything. It's just--"

>"I'm just too big for it," she says, the gun disappearing in her grip.

>"No, there's nothing wrong with you," you soothe, "It's that the gun is too small."

>It doesn't appear to do much for her mood-- even with all the state propaganda, you don't think you've ever seen an anthro look so... human.

>"We can still make things work," you assure her, reaching for her arm.

>Rebecca pulls back in a flash and bares her teeth, her fur bristling. You scarcely have time to jump back yourself before her expression changes to one of great concern

>"Oh, god," she says, taking a step toward you, "I'm so, so sorry. I- I just--"

>"It's okay," you say, more for yourself than her. "If you're okay, I'm okay."

>She nods after a moment, doing her best to appear smaller than she is.

>"Let me go and grab my pistol," you say, "It's big enough that it'll be a bit easier for you to use."

>Rebecca nods, and you can feel her follow you back to the shelter a few steps behind.

>"So... humans can have guns?"

>"Yes," you say, "Just old ones. Which happen to be what I like."

>"Oh."

>"My turn; why did you decide to get a gun, Rebecca?"

>She's quiet.

>"You don't have to tell me, just curious. If you have a specific purpose in mind, we might want to work on specific things. And look for specific things in a new one."

>"Oh." she says again. "Can we just do the... general stuff?"

>"Sure."

>Just as the two of you arrive at the shelter, you're greeted by a familiar-- if unfriendly-- face.

>"Hi Pat!"

>The german shepard, as usual, just scowls at your false enthusiasm.

>"You address me as Agent Birch, you little shit."

>"Oh, but Patricia," you say as you dig around your range bag, "You always come to check on me! I figured we'd be on a first-name basis by now!"

>The ATF agent looms over you as you leisurely pull out your Tokarev and a box of ammo.

>"Rebecca, this is Patricia," you say as you slowly lay the pistol down, "She's upset that Talia has first dibs on me, so she's trying to bust me and get me put into corrections."

>Patricia lets loose a menacing growl.

>"You're living in a loophole, Anon. And when I find a way, I AM putting you away."

>Making sure the Tokarev is unloaded, you present it to Rebecca; it draws her bewildered expression back into focus.

>"It's safe. Give it a try, see how it feels in your hand."

>She does; it looks like a compact in her hands.

>"Better than the other one?"

>"Yes, much," she nods.

>"Lets go and have you try that, then. I can-- oh, wait."

>You grab your bag away from Patricia as she looks through it, earning another snarl.

>"Pat, in the interest of teaching safe weapons handling, I'm temporarily going to handle Rebecca's gun, which is a prohibited weapon," you say, being technical and legal in the most condescending way possible. "Is that okay?"

>"No."

>"What if it's unloaded?"

>"...yes..." she concedes, though the murderous glare doesn't leave her eyes.

>"Anon, quit poking the bitch and go and do what I told you!"

>You and Pat turn to see that Talia has arrived, and she looks pissed.

>Moreso than usual.

>"Yes ma'am," you say, dropping the cocky attitude.

>If Hollywood wasn't full of predators, (even more than before the state takeover), you'd consider acting.

>Patricia and Talia start arguing as you lead Rebecca back to the targets.

>"Does this happen often?" she asks.

>"Occasionally. Neither of them do their job and they know it, so they get like this."

>You and Rebecca trade guns, and you go through the basics. Once she has a handgun that actually fits her huge hands, she unsurprisingly does well.

>She looks happy when she's got the hang of it, not leaning back or trying to close herself up.

>"Thank you, Anon," she says when she hands the Tokarev back, "Really. I think I'm going to try a different shop and get something nicer."

>You give her a quick inhale, and say "Maybe try a proper gunshop. Or at least let me tag along."

>Her eyes go a little wide.

>"No, you don't have to. I wouldn't want to impose."

>"I want to," you say. "Whatever you're doing this for-- won't ask what-- is important. I wanna make sure that you're getting something that works."

>Rebecca stares at you a moment before grabbing you in a hug.

>You can't tell if the softness you're pressed against is from the sweatshirt or from her.

>"You're too sweet, Anon," she sighs after a moment, before letting you go with a slight "Eep!"

>You follow her gaze back to see Talia and Patricia coming out to meet the two of you.

>"I- I didn't mean anything by that!" she stammers at Talia, "I just--"

>"Don't bother," Patricia snorts, "It's a cover anyway. Isn't it, Talia?"

>"You'd like it to be, wouldn't you?" the she-wolf growls, getting one in response.

>"It's fine, Talia," you say "She was just a bit happy with her progress."

>Talia gives you a look before nodding.

>Fake relationship or not, it's nice having a she-wolf on your side.

>"You wanna see the gun I was talking about?" you ask, seizing the chance to legitimize things in front of Pat.

>Not that it'd do anything to convince her.

>"Sure," your 'partner' says, getting the game instantly.

>The three of them stare at you as you dig through the bag, finding the tiny box.

>Setting it down on the small field table, you feel them crowd around you as you open it up-- Talia for the act, Rebecca out of interest, and Patricia out of malice.

>Inside sits the glorious result of at least a year's worth of saving and searching:

>A Kolibri Model 2.

>The smallest centerfire handgun ever made.

>You hold the tiny piece aloft for the three of them to see, glowing with pride.

>"It's in 2.7mm," you say, "the size of a single grain of rice."

>Patricia just keeps up her scowl, while Talia and Rebecca at least indulge you with a closer look.

>"I definitely don't want to try handling that," the tiger says, while your 'partner' just scoffs and asks how much it cost.

>"Plenty," you say, beginning the delicate process of loading up the magazine, "But most was for the ammo. The gun itself was in need of repairs, so it was cheap."

>Patricia's ears perk up.

>"Are you saying you modified that gun?"

>"No," you sigh, "I repaired it. If I was going to convert a piece of history into a machine gun, Pat, it wouldn't be the gun smaller than my palm."

>For once, she doesn't growl.

>Delicately, you slide the magazine in and slide your thumb over the safety, feeling the mechanical parts revel in their first coat of oil in a century.

>You set your sights on the nearby cardboard, which will most likely stop the tiny bullet

>It's going to be going slower than a BB from a BB gun, after all.

>Here goes...

>SP-P-P-P-P-PK!

>...

>Slowly, you turn the gun; the slide is locked back, the chamber empty.

>Along with your previously topped-off magazine.

>"HAH!" Patricia suddenly laughs, louder than any of the yeens from the bay next door, "I FINALLY GOT YOU, YOU COCKY LITTLE ASSHOLE!"

>Your face turns red and your chest suddenly feels light and hollow as you crouch down, counting out six brass grains of rice in the sand while she continues gloating.

>"YOU JUST MADE AN ILLEGAL MACHINE GUN, AND LIED ABOUT IT TO AN OFFICER OF THE LAW!"

>She moves in to grab you, but to your relative surprise, Talia shoves her away.

>"Simmer down, Officer Bitch," the she-wolf growls, "I'm the RSO, and I determine if it was intentional or a mechanical failure!"

>"You're not protecting him this time, cunt!" Patricia laughs, not fazed by the shove, "Conflict of interest! Being his 'partner' doesn't work out so well now, does it?"

>Talia growls; you feel like curling into a ball.

>"That means you've got no say in the investigation! All you can do is be a character witness-- but, oh, wait, you two are a 'couple?' Sorry, conflict of interest again!"

>"What about me?"

>The three of you turn to look at Rebecca; she looks determined, if a little bit frightened.

>"Stay out of this," Patricia says, "I've been trying to catch these two for months. You don't know what they've been up to."

>"Exactly..." you say, gears turning in your head, "She doesn't. We just met today. No conflict of interest."

>Patricia growls, taking a step toward you but flinches; the regulator chip must have given her a shock.

>One of the few totalitarian decisions of the state you actually agree with.

>"Well, Rebecca," Talia sighs, "I guess it's up to you. If you make a statement, you're getting tangled up in this."

>The tiger nods, taking a deep breath.

>"I don't think Anon meant for it to do that," she says, "He likes older guns, and he made a good point-- I don't think something that tiny would be a good machine gun."

>Patricia is shaking with rage, and you watch her shake it off with a few breaths.

>You wish you could do the same for the anxiety gripping you.

>"What's your full name?"

>"Rebecca Maldovich."

>"Well, Ms. Maldovich," Patricia says in a controlled manner, "Be that as it may, Anon committed a firearms negligence offense. As such, this event must still be investigated."

>"Bull-fucking-shit!" Talia yells, "Mechanical failure doesn't count for that! And if you're so eager to actually enforce that, why don't you go the next bay over and deal with the fucking yeens that I reported about seven times already?"

>"Calm down, Ms. Grilliz," Patricia says with a savory smile, "The state's priority-- not my priority-- is human offenders. Now, Anon, do you have anything to say?"

>You've got about a thousand things, but you know none of them are gonna help.

>Most would probably hurt

>You shake your head.

>Patricia huffs, a little disappointed. "Apparently you know your rights. Come along."

>She reaches for you, and again Talia shoves her away.

>"You're not taking him away," she growls, "I know my rights too. Nonviolent violation, at my range, under my supervision; he only goes if I say, and I say he doesn't."

>Pat's smug look falters for a moment, but she laughs again.

>"Can't wait to take you down too, Talia."

>She walks backwards away from the two of you and Rebecca, making sure you get a good look at her smug mug.

>"You've got a week."

>Damn it all.

>"A week?"

>"Before trial," Talia says to Rebecca.

>"The show trial," you correct her, "You know the court system is rigged."

>"One week before my rights get stripped and they put me in mandatory assignment."

>She can't say much to that, and neither does Rebecca.

>Slowly, you pack your gear up back into your range bag.

>"What are you doing?" Rebecca asks, still in a daze.

>"Going home," you say.

>"Now?" Talia hisses, "I'm in this too!"

>"I know."

>"Then what are you running for?" She asks, grabbing your arm and getting in your face.

>"Right now, the only way we get out of this is if we get a civil union," you whisper through grit teeth.

>She pulls back slightly, locking eyes.

>"For both our sakes, I'm going to try and see if there's another way out."

>She lets you go, walking back off down the range.

>You're in it now.

Part 2:

>You wake up for good to the 'ping!' of a text.

>All the other times were from the usual things: being too hot, too cold, your arm falling asleep over your head...

>...And the impending sense of doom that's been hanging over you since yesterday, invading even your sleep.

>Looking at your phone, you see it's actually an email. One with state priority.

>The subject line reads "Notification of Investigation for: Multiple Charges."

>"Dear ANON ANONERSON,

>"This email is to inform you that you are currently under investigation for the following charges: 1 count of Firearms Negligence (Negligent Discharge), 2 counts of Illicit Possession (Manufacture and Possession of an Illegal Machinegun), 1 count of Perjury (False Courtship Claims), and 2 counts of Non-violent Obstruction of Justice (1 count of Harassing an Officer; 1 count of Perjury during Investigation). This investigation began yesterday (Sunday, 7/XX/20XX), following events occurring at the Shoktan Shooting Club (WCS Sector 11)."

>"The potential consequences of these charges include: loss of firearms privileges and confiscation of any associated property, accelerated State Evaluation schedule, and mandatory enrollment into the Civil Matchmaking Services System (CMSS)."

>"The investigating Officer (ATF division) has also recommended you be classed for Special Assignment in the CMSS system: due to your charges being non-violent, normal immediate restraints/restrictions will not apply during the course of this investigation. However, should you be found guilty, all normal Special Assignment restrictions and procedures will apply."

>"The court date for this investigation is: Sunday 7/XX+7/20XX. Arrive at the New Apple Municipal Complex at 10am: you will be escorted to the lower court by on-premises staff. In accordance with the indigenous beliefs of your sector, you will be afforded a public defendant to speak on your behalf by the State, if you do not have a lawyer on retainer."

>"If you have entered into a Civil Union prior to this court date, it is important to bring a copy of your certificate and/or your application form, as well as your spouse. This would dismiss one or more of the charges against you (False Courtship Claims, Illicit Possession)."

>You skim over the next few lines, full of the stock-standard state assurances and reminders

>"Remember that access to firearms is a privilege, not a right"

>"The state allows for the preservation of some historic practices in your region, not all"

>And of course, the ever popular "The Anthrostate has only your best interests at heart."

>The last few lines at the bottom catch your eye:

>"The reporting officer (Patricia A. Birch, ATF) has elected to release her contact information to you and the immediate witnesses of this case (Talia W. Grilliz, Rebecca T. Maldovich). Note that any communications with Officer BIRCH will be monitored and may be used during trial due to one or more charges against you (Harassing an Officer)."

>"Have a pleasant day,"

>"WCS 11 Justice Division"

>You groan, tempted to throw the phone but settling for setting it on the bedside table. That bitch is taunting you.

>And you know that she has your information-- if you try blocking her number, you'll probably get another obstruction of justice charge.

>Your phone lets out another 'ping!'; you pick it up with hesitation, telling yourself not to respond to her when you see it's from Talia.

>'Bitch got started early-- it's fucking 8am'

>At least this bullshit hasn't gotten to her sense of humor.

>'thought your text was from her,' you reply back.

>'No such luck. Didn't come up with anything last night, either. You?'

>'No. Half worried they're gonna send someone down here based on my search history alone'

>'That's ripe for jokes, but I'm not in the mood,' she sends back after a minute, 'We gotta figure this out.'

>"No shit," you say to yourself, but resist the urge to snap at her via text.

>'I know,' you write instead, 'Are you actually being charged with anything?'

>'courtship claims, harassing and obstructing an officer.'

>'Same for me, but add firearms negligence and possession/manufacturing a machinegun.'

>'Makes things a little easier to cover,' she sends back.

>'We need a good fucking lawyer,' you respond.

>'More to it than that. Lawyer can argue all they want, but the state can throw it out if there's no good evidence or witnesses.'

>You groan, rubbing your eyes.

>'You make it sound so bright and cheery'

>She goes quiet for a while, giving you some time to make breakfast before your phone goes off again.

>'Lets make another deal. I'll find someone who can help with the firearms charges for you, and you find someone who can work the perjury and harassment ones for the both of us. I've got people I can ask from being an RSO.'

>'And I've got...?'

>'Work to do. Talk to legal people, witnesses, secure evidence-- whatever you can'

>'...You sure it wouldn't be easier to just get a CU?'

>'You can get one,' she sends, 'just not with me'

>You sigh. Was worth shot.

>'Keep in touch. I'll update you at the end of the day.'

>You close your phone and clean up; at least you started the day early. All the more time for you to use.

>And you're going to need as much as you can get.

Paths ** (LINKS UNDER CONSTRUCTION, use AO3 for missing paths/ chapters)**:

Rebecca Path

Yeen Path

Patricia Path

Talia Path

Paths of Questionable Canonicity:

LoveGun: Valentines/ a more in-depth look at each character

RETURN: Halloween/ nothing good