Chapter Text
"Anon."
"Talia."
The she-wolf hardly looks up from her "SURVIVAL" magazine as you lug your gear by the little RSO shack. She doesn't check your membership card, now a year out of date. It's not surprising -- she is your "partner," after all. Getting into the shooting range for free is just one of the perks.
"I sent a newbie to your bay," she calls after you, "mind helping her out?"
...But you do try and help her out now and again. It's only fair.
"Sure thing."
"Name's Rebecca," the she-wolf says. "Oh, and watch out -- those yeens are back in bay 5."
"Great," you sigh. One or two found out about the range a month ago, and now there's a pack of them that come in. You're not sure which is louder: their laughter or the stubby AK's they bring in with breaks.
Fuck, you can hear it from here at the entrance, even with your ears on. The cougar 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. It matches her compression outfit -- which is trying it's best to contain her -- but she's actually shooting from the bench. So either her shooting ability is on par with her fashion sense, or she's trying to catch the handful of humans that come to the range.
Like yourself.
The way she flashes a smile when you approach makes you think it's the latter. You give her a little wave, spotting the slight white on her muzzle; she's a cougar in both senses of the word. She sets the gun on the bench, getting up as you try to slip past her through the small shooting shelter.
"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 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. The air grows thick with vanilla as she looms even closer, partway above 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. "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. You stay still, not breaking the gaze. You're freaking out inside, but you know letting her in on that would be a terrible idea. College, your library job, and plenty of time on this range has taught you that. After a moment, the cougar finally 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," you say.
"Well, Anon, I'll be here a while. I'm Laura, by the way."
"See you around, Laura," you say as you pass by, feeling her tail brush against you. 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 as she loads up another magazine. Hopefully she'll be gone by the time you come back -- that was too close. You're lucky you were handloading before you got here. If you didn't smell like gunpowder, 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 thinking about stopping. Not after what happened last year. You pause as you approach bay 3, the staccato of apparent autofire echoing around the range. The bench full of expensive, tactical toys confirms that it's Aki. You've never been able to pin down where she gets her cash from, but you know she's not an ordinary university student. You set your bag down and watch as she finishes her drill, targets and barricades filling the normally vacant bay. She's behind one with various cutouts near the center; the awkward angles don't slow her down at all. The cheetah darts between targets in a blur, sending bursts of fire through each. Every string lands in the A-zone, every time.
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 other time.
"You know, I think there's no automatics allowed on this range," you say as she nears 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, glancing over as you watch her.
"What? You finally get a sense of taste?"
"You left the safety off," you point out.
"Psh. They just--"
"Slow you 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, reloading her vest with mags.
"That's why you haven't tied it off with Talia, huh?"
"Not quite," you say. "We're just taking it slow. Unlike other people I know."
The cheetah blows a raspberry, pistol spinning in hand.
"Uh huh. And what's that gotten you so far?"
"Free admission and an employee discount from FF Supply?"
Aki pauses, the pistol snapping to a stop.
"Fair enough," she says, sliding a magazine in. "But I was referring to your other feminine admirer."
You snort.
"Not even gonna give that a response," you tell the smiling cheetah. "Gotta go, Aki. Got someone in bay 6 to help out."
"Whatever," she says, a teasing edge to her voice as she racks the slide. "Catch you later, slowpoke."
You've always liked Aki. She's focused, fast -- and not quite as lusty as the rest of the clientele. Even if she can't seem to appreciate historic pieces like you can, she at least appreciates 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 before. The way she's flinching with each shot persuades you to check. She at least looks normal as you approach, dressed casual but appropriately with jeans and a shirt. It's a nice middle ground between Aki's hyper-tactical 'high-speed no-drag' setup, and the inevitable low-top booty-short combo the yeens next-door are going to flaunt.
Fucking yeens, you can hear their cackling in high-definition now. You wait for the fox to finish the mag in her Sig before getting her attention.
"Are you Rebecca?" you ask, coming up beside her
"Uhh, no, my name's Jen," she says. The reflective shades make it hard 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, what are you doing here? I thought humans could only use firearms with their wife?"
"Not quite," you say. "The law is a modification of an old human one. We can have 'curio and relic' pieces -- basically anything older than 75 years."
You could go on. Not knowing your way around gun law and its history makes you easy prey for the state, so you try to stay informed. Surprisingly, Jennifer doesn't look bored to tears by it, but she still moves on.
"Ahh. So, you're not here with anyone?"
"I'm partners with Talia," you say, a little disappointed.
"That explains it," she says. The look on her face is still one of interest, not lust at least.
"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?"
"Hell yeah!" you say.
"Good! If you want to swap numbers, we can set things up later. I know you've got a newbie to attend to."
The two of you pull out phones and start setting up new contacts. You can't quite believe it's real. You wouldn't, if it weren't for the 'Welcome the new Director!' email you got from the museum a while back. As you and the fox rattle off numbers to each other, you start feeling like there's something familiar about her. You haven't been to the museum since she took over, and you've never seen her here before -- you can't put your finger on it. You still don't have it when you say your goodbyes, turning to leave when she calls your name.
"Oh, wait a sec Anon! 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. She muscles you around a little, taking her time getting the right angle and getting you to smile with her as her phone clicks.
"There," she says, releasing you. "I'll send you a text when I'm finished up here."
"Okay, thanks," you say, smiling back at her before getting your gear from the bench. Your heart soars; previously, your chances of getting into a museum or historical center felt near-zero. And now, you might be working in your specific field of interest. No more dealing with buncels moping around the library and trying to catch you when security is 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.
Speaking of odors, you're able to smell the yeens as you walk into bay 5. Your hopes of sneaking through are quickly dashed; their small fleet of rusty shitboxes fills the space between the back berm and the shooting shelter. There's only three of them there right now, the rest downrange. One of them is oddly small -- like, your size small -- but the other two are closer to average at seven to eight feet tall.
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 try to slip by.
"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 as the rest of them return to the shelter, grinning faces all around as they set down their guns. Soon you're surrounded, and you swear the temperature rises ten degrees. 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 laughter. They lunge for you; the only thing delaying the inevitable is the fact they're all trying to grab you at once.
"Oh, we can make a deal, lil' man," one of them says, "but you gotta do it for each of us."
They all like that suggestion.
"Look!" you shout, "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 the yeen smells you, wet nose pressed to your neck. She shoves you away with a laugh; another grabs you and does the same thing.
"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 growls, her grip tightening.
"Back off, Roxxi," a less growly voice says, cutting through the laughter. The yeens go quiet as the small one pushes her way through, all eyes on her.
"You know B gets first dibs," she says.
"She ain't here," your captor grumbles. "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 to the ground.
...Or maybe not.
"Fuck you, Jamie," the big hyena says. She breaks from the circle of yeens and snatches 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 trash. You stay frozen 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. It's strange, but welcome. You wait until you're both between the two bays to speak.
"Do I want to know what happened back there?"
"Probably not," she sighs, glancing down for a moment. "It's... kinda my fault."
Stranger and stranger, this little yeen.
"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."
Her dish-like ears pull back in embarrassment.
"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, like she can't do anything about her sisters. But then what the hell happened earlier?
"Who's B?" you ask.
"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 hear about this."
Finally, she looks up at you with 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. You watch her for a moment, and sigh. Hopefully she's not gonna end up as a stain on the ground. You take out the can of spray deodorant from your bag and spritz yourself. It's been living in your range bag ever since the yeens started showing up; you might need to add in a can of mace for next time.
Once you feel like you don't smell like the set of a YEEN'D video, you go to the shelter in bay 6 and set down your gear. The fact that there's no other stuff on the bench tells you Rebecca is indeed new. When you look out at the range, you realize she's *really* new. Five yards away from the nearest target stands an enormous tiger in a sweatshirt and shorts, all bunched up and leaning back. She flinches when whatever she's holding goes off, sending a spray of dirt up on the berm. You approach cautiously, trying not to spook her.
"Rebecca?"
She pauses as she turns to you, consciously pointing the pistol downrange.
"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 gently.
"No, it's not," she sighs. "I can hardly use it."
"Do you mind if I take a look?"
Rebecca nods, handing 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 your gun?" you ask. The range doesn't do rentals, but you never know.
"Yes," she says again. "I got it and the bullets from a pawnshop."
You sigh. You don't want to know how much they ripped her off.
"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 whole body droops. You realize what 'confiscated piece' sounds like in the context of a pawnshop, and hastily clarify.
"You can still have it, it's legal and everything. It's just--"
"I'm too big for it," she finishes for you, the gun disappearing in her grip.
"No, there's nothing wrong with you," you soothe. "You're not too big, the gun's too small."
It doesn't 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 to 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 easier for you to use."
Rebecca nods, and follows you back to the shelter.
"So... humans can have guns?" she asks.
"Yes, just old ones. Which happen to be what I like."
"Oh."
"My turn," you ask, "why did you decide to get a gun, Rebecca?"
She's quiet; you glance back, seeing her tail flick.
"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 gun."
"Oh," she says again. "Can we just do more... general stuff?"
"Sure."
As the two of you arrive to the shelter, you're greeted by a familiar face -- your other 'feminine admirer.'
"Hi Pat!"
The german shepherd just scowls at your false enthusiasm, as per usual.
"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, slowly laying 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."
You make sure the Tokarev is unloaded and present it to Rebecca, bringing her bewildered expression back into focus.
"It's safe," you say. "Give it a try, see how it feels in your hand."
The full-size pistol looks like a compact in her paws, but its a hell of a lot better than her old Glock.
"Better than the other one?" you ask.
"Yes, much," she nods, smiling softly.
"Let's 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," she grunts.
"What if it's unloaded?"
"...Yes," she concedes. The murderous glare doesn't leave her eyes.
"Anon, quit poking the bitch and go do what I told you!"
You and Pat turn to see that Talia has arrived, looking more pissed 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. The two canines start arguing as you lead Rebecca back to the targets.
"Does this happen often?" she asks.
"Occasionally. Neither of them does their job and they know it, so they get like this."
You go through the basics with the tigress; now that she's got a handgun that actually fits her huge paws, she 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 back the Tokarev. "Really, thank you. I think I'm going to try a different shop and get something nicer."
You take a quick inhale.
"Maybe try a proper gunshop. Or at least let me tag along."
Her eyes go a little wide.
"No, you don't have to," she says, "I wouldn't want to impose."
"I want to," you say. "Whatever you're doing this for is important. I wanna make sure that you're getting something that works for you."
Rebecca stares for 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, now coming out to the targets.
"I -- I didn't mean anything by that!" she stammers at Talia, "I just--"
"Don't bother," Patricia snorts, "It's all fake 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 happy with her progress."
Talia gives you a look before nodding. Fake relationship or not, it's nice having a big 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 much to convince her. She nods, getting the game instantly. The three anthros stare as you dig through the range bag, finding the tiny box. You feel them crowd in when you set it on the small field table, watching as you open it up. Talia for the act, Rebecca from 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 a Kolibri Model 2," you say, plucking up a cartridge. "Chambered in 2.7mm -- 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 the magazine. "Most of it was the ammo. The gun itself needed 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. You slide the magazine in delicately, thumbing the safety slowly. It's smooth, the tiny mechanical parts reveling in their first coat of oil since last century. The guttersight is barely usable, but you're not standing more than five feet from the target. The cardboard will probably stop the bullets -- they'll be going slower than a BB gun, after all. The trigger is oddly smooth as you slowly squeeze.
*SP-P-P-P-P-PK!*
Slowly, you turn the gun; the slide is locked back, the chamber empty. As is your previously topped-off magazine.
"HAH!" Patricia laughs, louder than any of the yeens next-door. "I finally got you, you cocky little asshole!"
Your face turns red and your chest feels light and hollow. 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 Talia shoves her away.
"Simmer down, Officer Bitch," the she-wolf growls. "I'm the RSO, and I determine if it was intentional or not!"
"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!" the shepherdess jeers. "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; her expression is firm, if a little 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. She 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 tigress 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, but she contains it after a few breaths. You wish you could do the same to 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. "That doesn't cover mechanical failure! And if you're so eager to actually enforce the law instead of harass us, why don't you go the next bay over and deal with the fucking yeens that I reported 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 three of you, making sure you get a good look at her smug mug.
"You've got a week."
Damn it all.
"A week?" Rebecca asks.
"Before the trial," Talia growls, staring daggers at the shepherdess.
"The show trial," you correct her. "You know the court system is rigged. We've got one week before my rights get stripped and they put me in mandatory assignment."
She can't say much to that, and neither can Rebecca. Slowly, you pack your gear back into the 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 -- I'm gonna see if there's another way out."
She lets you go, walking back off down the range. You sigh; it's going to be a long week for both of you.
--- ---
You wake up to the 'ping!' of a text.
All the previous bouts of blinking and groaning 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. You check your phone, finding the message was 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, 7/13/2050), 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 (Patricia Birch, ATF) 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, 7/20/2050. 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 Anthro-Guided World Regulatory Commission 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. You settle for tossing it on your bedside table. That bitch is taunting you. If you try blocking her number, you'll probably get another obstruction of justice charge. Your phone lets out another 'ping!' You tell yourself not to respond to the shepherdess as you pick it up, relieved to find it's from Talia.
TG: 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.
TG: No such luck. Didn't come up with anything last night, either. You?
AA: No. Half worried they're gonna send someone down here based on my search history alone
Could make so many 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?
TG: courtship claims, harassing and obstructing an officer.
AA: 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.
TG: 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.
AA: 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.
TG: 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.
AA: And I've got...?
TG: Work to do. Talk to legal people, witnesses, secure evidence-- whatever you can
AA: ...You sure it wouldn't be easier to just get a CU?
You can get one, she sends, just not with me
You sigh. It was worth a shot.
TG: 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.
You're going to need as much as you can get.
Paths:
Paths of Questionable Canonicity:
LoveGun : Valentines/ a more in-depth look at each character
R̴̨̤͚͚͔̻͍̫͉̣͇̙̫̜̲͇̞̽̋͂͊ē̵̛̩͇̞͔̉́̉̌̾̾̃́́̒̎̀̐̾ẗ̶̛̠̘͕̲̮̜̫̗͉͚̳͔̬̠͓̺́̎̐̍̀͑̽̊̔̐͆̽̈́̚͜͝ů̶̬͓͙͖̠͕̮̺͕̀̃̐̉̏̎̈́͂͐̽̏́̒̄͜͝͠ŕ̴̨͔̜̞ͅn̶̡̮̹̦̠̣͛̓͌̔̈́̃͋̋͊̑̕͘͜ : Halloween/ nothing good