/k/ Anon and Spider Shimm 1


                                            >You are Anon.

                                            >Over the last week, you and your girlfriend, Sunset Shimmer, have been discussing your purchase of >pic related.

                                            >Difficult as it was with New York's ass-backward gun laws, but that's an entirely different discussion.

                                            >You see, Sunset is Spider-Woman, the web-slinging hip-tacular protector of NYC.

                                            >And as a member of the masked crime-fighting community, she's been on the wrong side of more than her fair share of firearms.

                                            >And while not being against ownership of rooty-tooty-point-and-shooties, she does not feel that /you/ need one, after all,

                                            >"You have me here to protect you, why do you need one of those...things?"

                                            >So, seeing as she has the next few days free, you are taking her to your Grandfather's favorite stretch of backwoods Pennsylvania for a weekend of camping, hunting, shooting, and just general innawoods-ing.

                                            >After several hours of driving, you finally reach the particular grouping of trees that your Grandfather bought about five years back.

                                            >Though it's been three or so since anyone's been here, at least to your knowledge.

                                            >And from how overgrown the fire pit is, you seem to be right.

                                            >"Well, this is certainly... cozy~."

                                            >Sunset steps out of the car, stretching her back and giving you quite the view.

                                            >"Like what you see Tiger~"

                                            >Fuck this girl now how to get you going.

                                            "Of course, but we need to get camp set up first."

                                            >An hour later you have the tent set up, the fire pit cleared out, and enough deadwood to last through the night.

                                            >There's just one more thing that you need to do.

                                            >Going to the trunk of your car, you remove your pistol case, a paper target, and five boxes of .45 with three spare magazines.

                                            >Opening the case you turn to Sunset.

                                            "Alright, come here."

                                            >Sunset gives you a cautious look, slowly approaching you.

                                            >"Y-yeah Tiger, what is it?"

                                            >You take a deep breath.

                                            "You need to learn to use one of these."

                                            >You gesture to the M1911.

                                            >"Anon, why would need to know how to use a gun?"

                                            "Because it's fun."


                                            "Just place your hands like this"

                                            >"Anon, it feels weird."

                                            "You just need to adjust your grip, yeah, just like that. Now place your index finger here. Very good! And now start squeezing slowly..."

                                            >And with that, the pistol barks and jerks back, sending the shot wide.

                                            "Not expecting the sound where you?"

                                            >"Shut up."

                                            >Sunset squares her stance, breathes in, and then takes another shot.

                                            >*CRACK*

                                            "Not bad, still a little high, though, but your getting better."

                                            >You can't help but smile.

                                            >Sunset, on the other hand, seems a bit perturbed.

                                            >"Alright, smart guy, you try it!"

                                            >Her mistake.

                                            >Raising the pistol you finish off the magazine, remove it from the pistol, and then engage the safety, before passing it over to a surprised Sunset.

                                            "Let's go see how we did!"

                                            >Walking over to the target, you can instantly see your group was a little bit wide, but not too bad, you'll need to find a range back home, get gud again.

                                            >Sunset on the other hand...

                                            "Well, you did better than I did the first time. I mean, you did hit the target... kinda."

                                            >Sunset's second shot hit the outer edge of the silhouette, but the first, well at least she hit the target.

                                            >"..."

                                            >A few hours, and all but one box of rounds later, and Sunset is, well she's no pro, but she's gotten used to the kick of the pistol, now most of her shots are hitting inside the silhouette, if not necessarily in a tight grouping.

                                            >Still the two of you are having fun, and that's the important part.

                                            >Tossing another log onto the fire, you turn to look at the tent where Sunset is currently getting ready for bed.

                                            >Another hour and you have joined her in the tent.


                                            >After the two lovers fell into a deep sleep and the fire finally died out, a figure quietly gathered the ashes.


                                            >You are Anon.

                                            >You also really need to piss.

                                            >On the other hand, you are also very comfy with Sunset snuggling into your chest.

                                            "Fuckin' blader needin' to piss."

                                            >Sunset squirms as you struggle to get out of the sleeping bag the two of you shared.

                                            >Stumbling out of the tent, you walk over to the latrine you dug a few yards from the campsite.

                                            >Walking back to the camp you see that the fire pit's been cleared out.

                                            >Good, that'll make starting another fire all that easier.

                                            >You'll thank Sunset for that with a hot cup of coffee.

                                            >Setting up some logs and kindling, you get the fire going using your Grandfather's secret technique.

                                            >Half a can of Sterno later, you have a nice roaring campfire.

                                            >And, using what remains of the camp fuel, you have a pot of coffee boiling.

                                            >"Morning Tiger. Smells good out here, making coffee?"

                                            >Smiling, you pour her a mug.

                                            "Yep. It should be done soon."

                                            >Walking back to the car you pull out the cooler, rifling through it to find something to make for breakfast.

                                            "Hey, Sunny, how does reconstituted eggs sound?"

                                            >You here a noncommittal grunt from the caffeine-deprived beauty.

                                            "Eggs it is!"

                                            >You move the coffee pot off the camp stove, setting a kettle on to boil.


                                            >After breakfast you returned to the car and retrieve the other gun you brought with you, an antique Winchester 1887.

                                            >According to your Grandfather it was given to him by a mutual acquaintance of his and John Browning, but your Grandfather was rather fond of tall tales.

                                            >Still it was a gift from him for your 14th birthday, so it has at least sentimental value if not historical significance.

                                            >Whatever the case is, you feel that it would be nice to give Sunset a chance to fire the old brush gun.

                                            >So now you stand at the impromptu range adjusting your girlfriend's stance.

                                            >Up 'til yesterday you thought that "chick leaning" was just a meme from that Korean basket weaving site you visit every night.

                                            >After a few minutes of adjusting and thinly veiled innuendo, Sunset is in the optimum shooting stance.

                                            "Sunset, this one's got a bit more kick than a pistol, so uh just take it slow."

                                            >Taking a breath, Sunset lines up the sights and the paper target.

                                            >And you are grateful that you brought hearing protection for this.

                                            >The crack of the 45-70 round breaking the sound barrier shatters any semblance of peace that the clearing might have once had.

                                            >And is followed by Sunset Giggling like you did the first time your Grandfather took you to the range, now over a decade ago.

                                            "So, what do you think? Ready to try some more?"

                                            >Sunset turns to you, a radiant smile on her face.

                                            >"Oh, you bet your sweet ass."

                                            >She squeezes off a few more rounds before you call it good for today, and the two of you start back for your camp.


                                            >Reurning to camp something feels off.

                                            >You are quite certain that you had pitched the tent on the other side of the clearing.

                                            >walking around the tent leads you to discover something you were not suspecting.

                                            >Between the tent and the fire pit is the word "LEAVE", written in ash.

                                            >Turning to your car, you can see more ash writing, some illegible, but two words seem to be quite clear.

                                            >"TRESPASSERS" and "GO".

                                            >Sunset looks at you and asks the one question that you, fear carved into her face.

                                            >"Anon, I, I think it would be a good idea to leave. Right now."

                                            >You can't help but agree.

                                            >Breaking down camp takes a total of forty-five minutes and getting everything into the car another ten.

                                            >Taking one last look around for anything you might have missed, you notice movement at the edge of the clearing.

                                            >Standig at almost one hundred yards from you is a not quite human shape staring at you, red eyes glowing slightly in the gloom.

                                            >Not quite comprehending what you see, you climb into the car and take off.

                                            >By the time you reach the New York border, you have thoroughly convinced yourself that what you saw was just a bear and the ash writing, now mostly blown off by the drive, was some asshole kid's idea of a joke.


                                            >It remains where Its prey left.

                                            >It wonders what made them leave.

                                            >not that It cares too much, more will come.