"If You've Ever Been Attacked by a Magical Chicken..."
Somewhere in the Kentucky wilderness...
A man stood at the edge of gun range. Arrayed along it's far side was a set of steel and paper targets. Not that odd for the rural Midwest, right? Wrong. Because, you see... This particular man just happened to be in possession of a YouTube channel by the name of Kentucky Ballistics. Now, today was a very special day for him. It was one year to the day that he had almost lost his life to an exploding .50 caliber bolt action rifle. And, to celebrate the fact that he was still alive, he had taken the liberty of buying yet another rifle chambered in .50 BMG. Just to give the universe the finger.
Scott knew that there was something off about the rifle as soon as he took it out of the box. Sure, at first glance it appeared to be just your average M82 Barrett. But closer examination revealed that a myriad of strange glyphs had been etched into the upper receiver of the weapon. Everywhere from the charging handle to the stock had been decorated in the same fashion. As for what these glyphs were? He didn't know. But he had a video to film and upload, and it wasn't like he was about to keep his fan's waiting. So he set the peculiar rifle up on it's bipod on a table. And directed his camera man to start recording.
"What's up everybody!? It's Scott here with Kentucky Ballistics and today I've got something special for y'all." The camera panned around to the strange .50 cal sitting on the table. " Now, I know we've done Barrett's on the channel before. But this one is just a little bit... Uh, how do I put it? Custom." He zoomed in closer, " I bought this one at a pawn shop just down the road. Uh, funny story actually, the guy who sold it to me said that the original owner of it just handed it in and took off running. Didn't even wait for payment. They then took it to a local gun shop and had it inspected. The people there found nothing wrong with it so they put it up on the shelves for sale. And as you can see, it is now mine. So, let's give it a try. "
Scott loaded a single round into a magazine, and then inserted that into the rifle. He then put on a set of amplified hearing protection and his eyewear. He took aim at a target about 80 yards down range, chambered a round. And fired. However, when he pulled the trigger, nothing happened. Then, the rifle began to glow. And shake. But before he could stand up, it exploded in a flash of light, his camera man jumped back, and when the blindness from the flash of light wore off, Scott was nowhere to be seen. All that remained was a smoking brass casing lying on the ground next to the surprisingly intact table.
"Uh, what just happened?" He murmured in shock. Unbeknownst to him what had just happened had also set of a chain reaction of other such events across the United States. All tied to Scott's friends.
Garand Thumb, aka, 'Mike.' Was out on his own range with a milled slide Glock 34 and full kit. Running and gunning from mock cover to mock cover for one of his famous cinematic video intro's. When all of a sudden, the image of what had just happened to Scott flashed in his mind. And he disappeared in a flash of light with an expression of utter confusion on his face. A second later, his cameraman fell through the ground as well.
"... Oh no, my drill sergeant sense is tingling! But that could only mean one thing, my friends got teleported to another dimension? What the fuck!?" A.C screamed out in terror. Collapsing on the floor, he reappeared a second later clad in a U.S Army drill sergeants uniform and death gripping an M4. " Ahhh!!!" He laughed like a maniac and disappeared through the wall behind himself in a flash of light that dumped him out onto the bank of a creek.
"What's up guys? Donut here! Today, we're going to be looking at a shooting that took place in-" Donut Operator, aka Cody Garrett looked at his computer screen in confusion. In place of the body camera footage which he had saved on his desktop just hours ago. Was a clip of what appeared to be a strange, unicorn thing with wings emerging from the moon and descending over a gloomy forest. The scene panned down through the trees to reveal... Was that Mike?" He looked at the camera, and blinked just as a wave of magical energy swept over him. Taking the firearms in the room with him. And leaving only the fading silhouette of his body remaining.
Brandon Herrera sat by his computer. Just minding his own business, mostly browsing through emails of people asking him to finish the AK-50. A variant of the AK platform chambered in .50 BMG. Between that, keeping up with his YouTube channel, and keeping up production at his company. He had a full plate. What he didn't expect when he stopped to take a swig from his whiskey, was for a wave of purple light to come flying right through his wall and smack him in the face. Sending him tumbling into another dimension.
"Welcome to Demolition Ranch! Today, we're... Umm... Actually, we didn't really have anything planed for the day. Well, that was before this... Magical portal thing appeared on our ranch. So, uh, we're gonna take the truck and golf cart though it and see if we can't find some alternate universe space Nazi's to kill! For, uh… Monetization reasons, that was a joke. Probably. " Matt silently damned the YouTube algorithm under his breath. And the camera cut to Demolition Ranch’s military surplus truck driving through a magical rift between the Texas wilderness and whatever was on the other side. Followed by a golf cart sporting an M2 Browning .50 technical while blasting the metal version of the Star Spangled Banner as it drove through the rift.
"Oh, and one more thing, guy's. If we don't come back, please call the National guard, if they don't pick up. Go straight to the Army, ok?" He gave the camera a thumbs up. The video blog cut to black.
"Ugh, were am I?" Brandon Herrera looked around, dazed. He then peered down at the liquor bottle in his hand. " What did they put in this?" He rubbed his head in pain and stumbled to his feet. Immediately it came to him that something was wrong, namely the fact that his office was now gone. Replaced by an eerie forest. “Hello...?" He sarcastically asked the dark wood. " Is anyone- No, is anything, out there? Alright, let me rephrase, is there anything that want's to kill me?" There was still no answer. His put his hand on his forehead and groaned. "What the hell just happened to me?" As the words left his mouth there was a sudden rustling in the bushes. And a certain angry drill sergeant jumped out. Holding a Billy club in his left hand. " Oh, hi Brandon!" The angry man said, waving the club around like a caveman. " Did you, uh... Happen to see a demonic chicken looking thing run through here!?" Brandon Herrera blinked in confusion again. " Uh... Not that I know of. Hey, Richard, do you happen to know where we are-"
"My first name is Drill! My last name is Sargent! Do you understand!? But no, I don't know were we are." He said casually, breaking character and propping himself up on a tree. " Well... What do we do now then?"
"Hey guy's, what are you doing here!?" Garand Thumb came running out from the same hole in the brush that Angry had. Clad in his plate carrier, war belt, and ballistic helmet. He carried a kitted out Benelli 1301 on a sling around his back and an equally furnished high-end AR-15 in hand. The Glock 34 from before had been placed into a shiny new holster. His camera man was following close behind, wearing an old Mich 2000 helmet and a terrified expression on his face.
"Hey Mike, how'd you get here?" He frowned. " One moment I'm filming a video, next I'm... Wherever here is." He looked around at the 2 other middle aged men. " I jumped through a wall!" Angry laughed. Garand glanced over at Brandon, who just shrugged. " Don't look at me, one moment I was sitting in my office, next thing I knew I woke up here, and then he came running through the bushes. Then you walked up. The other 2 looked down at Brandon's feet. Down at the dozen or so rifles and sidearms of varying calibers. All lying on the ground as though someone had just dumped them there. " Uh, Brandon?" A new voice called out.
It was Donut Operator, aka, Cody. Holding a coffee mug in his hand, he had a 9 mm Carbine slung over his shoulder with a red dot. " Uh, hi guy's. I have a ton of questions. Numero uno, how did Brandon's entire arsenal end up here?"
"Oh, this?" Brandon Herrera knelt down and dusted off his VSS Vintorez which was miraculously still loaded, along with most of the other guns that were there, though there were no spare magazines to be found. "Uh, this isn't even half of what I have. The rest must not have teleported here with me." Donut scratched his head, " Are you implying that we-or at least you, teleported here?"
"Well, I mean. It's not entirely impossible!" A.C shouted. " Well, unless someone drugged you, and then dumped you all the way out here. But that teleporting idea just makes more sense! I mean, how desperate would they need to be to kidnap someone like you!?"
"I don't know. Moving on, assuming that we did in fact, all get transported here to this forest, I motion that we try and find our way out of here and back to civilization." Garand Thumb reasoned, everyone else in the group nodded. "But first, we need to figure out what to do with all these guns. I mean, we can't carry all of them. But we also can't just leave them here."
"Plus, you know, they're mine." Brandon added, the rest of the group looked over at him. " How 'bout you carry 'em Brandon?" Garand Thumb pulled his back pack off of his back. " You know, I can dump most of the stuff I have in here right now and stuff it in my chest rig. You can just toss them right in there."
" C'mon guy's, this isn't Tarkov-"
Brandon Herrera did indeed end up carrying the majority of his guns along with him on his back. Though A.C was nice enough to take his only FN Scar 17. And Donut took his loaded RPG 7 with the claim of wanting to, "hold on to it for safe keeping." What a load of bullshit that was, though Donut was a friend, and he trusted him enough to not waste the only anti tank rocket they had on anything that wasn't important enough to warrant it. " Hey guy's. Did you hear something?" Donut asked, freezing in mid step.
"No shit, something's trying to creep up on us. What do you think this is, a kids show? C'mon, we're grown ass men, no need to be scared by some spooky noises in the bushes. Someone go figure out what that was. I vote A.C." Brandon Herrera quipped. The Drill Sergeant seethed in irritation, and stomped his way over to the bushed where the ominous screeching noise was emanating from. And reached into it.
"Hah! See!? Told 'ya there wasn't anything to be scared of-" There was an awkward pause as he felt his hand grab onto something, and slowly raised it up for them all to see.
"What the hell is that thing?" Garand Thumb's camera man asked. It looked like a chicken, but mixed with a dragon. It let out a horrendous squawk. It's eyes flashed red, and Garand Thumb began to notice that his right foot was slowly turning to stone. " Huh." Was his unusually calm response. A.C clubbed it over the head, but it just bit him and jumped out of his grasp. And, to add to the beast they were already dealing with, a wolf which appeared to be made out of wood emerged from the tree's behind Brandon. Everything very quickly went to shit in the moments that followed
Garand fumbled to get away from the creature's literally petrifying gaze and franticly hacked away at the stone slowly creeping it's way up his leg. Meanwhile Donut tired to fend off the wooden wolf. He finally lost it and unslung his semi automatic carbine and began firing at it while franticly running away in terror.
The sudden gunfire caused everyone in the group except Garand Thumb and his camera man to jump. Brandon raised his VSS to fire, but only got a clean line of sight on the wolf-thing just in time to watch the monster fall to the ground and the green glow fade from it's eyes. Meanwhile, the chicken thing and A.C had gotten into a wrestling match over the Scar. And, Mike, still partially petrified, raised his AR to put it down. But lowered it when he realized that it was far to close to A.C to risk a shot.
"Brandon! Don't just stand there, help!" Donut shouted, Brandon Herrera just pointed back to the 50 or so pounds worth of firearms and ammunition on his back. " Don't lose this. Oh, and pass me the MP 5. 9 x 39's worth a fortune these day's!" Donut fumbled around in the backpack and pulled out an MP 5 topped with an EOtech sight and a foregrip. Brandon unslung the sack and ran over to A.C to help pull the chicken thing off. Just then, another one of those wolf things came out of the forest baring it's fangs. Having finally had enough, A. C grabbed it by the neck with all his might and chucked it at the wolf.
The chicken- dragon thing slammed into the creature's side. And the two fell in a heap. The both of them fought to get off one another, when all of a sudden the crack of an M2 Browning heavy machine gun rang out through the forest. Tearing both of the monster's to shreds. A half second later, a golf cart flew through the trees and came to a stop right on top of their corpses. Matt, the head of Demolition ranch was in the drivers seat, Omar, aka, "Crispy. Was manning the .50 technical on top. He had earned that nickname on account of a rather unfortunate incident during his time in the military which had cost him one of his legs. He was still high in spirits though, and more than happy to come along for the ride. And, to everyone's surprise, Scott, from Kentucky Ballistics.
"Tell me you got that on camera." Garand whispered to his camera man, who gave him a discreet nod.
" Hey guy's, small world huh?" Scott asked them. The entire group blinked in utter confusion. "Hey, Mike, you ok there buddy?" Garand Thumb nodded as he shook his foot free of the stone. "Yep, thank god it was only temporary."
"Great! Now, everyone in!" Matt shouted, pressing down on the tiny horn twice. The group piled into the small golf cart." Boy, have I got a story for you!" Matt hit the pedal, and twisted the wheel around, sending the cart back off in the direction it had come from. Just as the sun began to set on the horizon.
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Damnit, there's no hickok45 or coilion noir or even TMhonfire102
11256235
Ah, that is something I shall have to remedy.
Oh good lord this is going to be a gunpowder and lead filled chaotic adventure ain’t it?
I never thought I'd see Flannel Daddy used as cover art on fimfiction.
this will be the fimfic ever
The right to arms is almost always undeserved in America
The right to keep and bear arms was and still is meant to maintain organized militias for national defense.
11256248
Okay. Also, holy shit people got pissed over this story.
11256315
I'm just here waiting to see how the guys in question react.
11256476
Can't maintain organized militias for national defense if you're at the mercy of the criminal element and unable to defend yourself from their ill intent.
11256298
Neither did I and I'm happy I have
This was actually really good, I can't wait to see the next chapters
11256610
But if you live in a state without a castle doctrine or stand your ground law you can get in trouble for merely defending yourself. Which is why you learn how to fight. Unfortunately, being a New Yorker I have to deal with this.
pretty unrealistic.
unlike cars, You don't required to do any actual training to use gun in America. It's likely that majority of Americans gun-owners are useless in real combat situations.
11256671
I don't believe I could've thought of a better example of the state utterly failing in its duty to its own people, than that.
11256677
Have you seen the training standards most patrol officers receive? It's abysmal, and they're allowed remedial attempts just to meet the minimums.
Worse, they're not held legally responsible for every unintended target their bullets strike. But regular folks are.
11256677
Keep in mind that most responsible gun owners were raised around guns and taught from a very young age how to safely, and properly handle, and use said firearm. Like me for example, my grandfather taught me the safe use of firearms from when I was 7. Granted I didn't learn how to properly use it until I enlisted in the Army but the point stands. If you've never handled one before then yeah, go take a course so you don't go and hurt someone like an idiot.
When is the next chapter gonna be posted?
11256721
Exactly thank you
11256677
11256721
Like what blazed steel said they know the proper safety procedures and precautions to handling and firing a firearm, but at least they know the basics of not accidental shooting someone or themselves(most of the time) at they might not know and like most responsible gun owners or responsible people who learn the safe use of firearms know how to fire the gun mostly
2nd Amendment was infringed on long ago, It's about self defense with Arms
Pistol ,Rifle, Cannon, War Ships, Submarines, Swords, Knives, Clubs, Sharp pointy sticks - Fielded Arms of the day weapons of war,
Today add tanks, missiles, aircraft, machine guns, nuclear warheads... America was to have a Navy with no standing Army
As a standing Army is usually used to cudgel the citizens by order of a corrupt leadership...
The police? Policy enforcement and not required to help you at all... Stand down orders for political gains the norm.
I saw Garand Thumb in the cover art and rushed here as quickly as I could.
I like the idea behind the story, but holy fuck you need an editor. Got too many people talking in the same paragraph and all manner of other issues.
11256809
True, the 2A specifies 'arms'. Implying all arms. It does not specify which kind of arms. Be that swords, guns, knives, cruise missiles. What have you. It also very clearly say's, " Shall not be infringed."
But, in the word's of Brandon Herrera, " Guns, are awesome. Idiot's, are not."
Anyone who thinks the 2nd amendment was created for the sole purpose of hunting is off their f#cking rocker. Sure, it extends to hunting. But that's not what it was made for, it was created for, as you pointed out. Self defense and a last ditch resort against tyrant's, both foreign and domestic.
11256721
11256808
look at consumer drone as an example. the majority of pilots are good and newcomers faced psychological pressure to self-regulated themselves by most community.
and looks at where we are now.
I haven't read it but I'm all for this unholy abomination already.
I would change "A.C grabbed it" to "A.C grabbed the chicken thing." As it is, it sounds like he grabbed the wolf and threw it at...the wolf.
Imagine if the author chucked in the Bread Boys to make this a real mother of all abominations
11264828
Oh jeez would that make this even worse