>My name is Anon. >I’m 24 years old. >I am addicted to firearms. >My life revolves around firearms. >And it’s all paid off. >Last week, my great uncle passed away. >Personally, I never knew him. >I am told he was very fond of me. >In his will, he left everything he owned to me. >The rest of my family was excluded, to their discontent. >Once they found out what was in his will, they all laughed. >I was left with the land my great-uncle had owned. >a property in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, on the border between California and Nevada. >Thousands of acres of desert and mountain. Fantastic. >Still, it was better than nothing. >I was intent on selling the property, but something nagged at me from inside my head. >what if there was gold? >perhaps there’s something valuable in those acres. >what if he buried millions of dollars where he lived? >And so, I bought a plane ticket to the middle of nowhere. >I drove miles into the desert, to his place of residence. >No signs, no road. >When I arrived, I couldn’t even see the house. >All I found was a hut, if you could call it that. >Inside was a dirty old mattress, a couple days’ worth of canned goods, and a dried well in the backyard. >I was devastated. I had just wasted a few thousand dollars getting here. >‘Fuck it, I’ll spend the night.’ >That was the best decision I had ever made. Later that night… >I awake to the sounds of an F-15, flying rather low.. >Cursing the nearby airbase, I sit up from my reclined seat in the truck. >I spot a light near the base of the mountain. >I blindly grope for the binoculars I keep in the passenger seat. >Peering through them, I can see the light is actually a cleverly disguised entrance to the base of the mountain, in a similar vein to a bunker. >Then, it clicked. It was an earth-sheltered home. >Why wasn’t this address in my great-uncle’s will? >I started up the truck, and drove closer to the entrance. … >I pull up to the entrance, ~50 yards away. >Not knowing who’s inside, on my property nonetheless, I arm myself and cautiously approach the entrance. >Glass and steel are the only materials barring me from entry. >I open the glass door as quiet as I can. >Lights are on. Odd. >I pie every room tactically, just like the operators I had read about. >Going through the home, I turn off every light. >At the very end of a hallway in the rear of the home, there is a heavy-duty steel door, surrounded by concrete. >There’s a digital keypad and an analogue tumbler. >What could be the passcode? >6 number combination. >I try the first one I can think of. >123456 >>Denied >I try my great-uncle’s birthday. >>Denied >I try my birthday. >>Denied >I think to myself, what would I put in? >10.22.22 >>Denied >01.23.55 >>Granted. >My eyes light up. >I unlock the vault door, pulling it open. >On the back of the vault, there’s a sticky note from my great-uncle. >‘Anon, if you’re reading this, this means you’re finally worthy of inheriting the true treasure. Good luck to you.’ >I quite literally shake in anticipation. >My brain thought of the millions of dollars waiting for me. >‘Finally. I’ll be able to buy everything I ever wished for!’ >I begin the walk into the winding tunnel. >Twisting and winding, I walk the pitch-black tunnel for what feels like miles. >Roughly seven minutes of walking later, I reach the light end of the tunnel. >An enormous cavern, lit by starlight reflected from the massive array of mirrors mounted in the ceiling. >The table in the center of the cavern is lit by a god-ray of starlight, perfectly illuminating the map of the cavern system. >Throughout the entire mountain is a massive cave complex, spanning thousands of yards. >In my Great-Uncle’s handwriting are circles and scribbles to similar caverns. >Inspecting it closely, I can make out a few of his words. >Combloc >Surplus ammunition dump >Cave-in >Hot Springs >In the bottom corner, there’s a handwritten note to himself. >Former Volcano? Tunneling indicative of lava flow. Hot Springs water source unknown. Danger of Cave-In in sector four. >Searching for sector 4 on the map, tracing each tunnel with my finger, I notice something that wasn’t on the map before. >A little red dot. >Then, a little green dot. >Before I know it, I’ve got no less than 8 separate lasers on my chest, all from different angles. >Raising my hands slowly, I surrender to this unknown force. >Every single tunnel entrance, excluding the one I entered from, had multiple lasers trained on me. >It was deathly silent. >A feminine voice broke the silence. >“On your knees, hands behind your head.” >No matter what the scenario, my brain comes to the conclusion of inescapable death. >I let myself fall to my knees, fingers interlaced behind my head. >“On the ground.” >My rifle clatters to the hard floor next to me, the Surefire light leaving a brilliant white glow on the rock wall behind me. >“Put your heels to your ass. Now!” The voice orders. >Practically kissing the floor, I raise my feet into the air as far as I can. >A sudden weight pins my legs, as two others pin my hands. >Someone etaches my sling from my rifle, kicking it away. >Internally, I cry out in pain. That Cerakote cost me $80. >A slender hand reaches for my belt, detaching every item on it. >Magazine pouches, my holster. >My wallet, keys. >I don’t even attempt to struggle. >Hands tied with some sort of cord, I was lead deeper into the complex, blindfolded. >A muzzle constantly applied pressure to my back, and an unforgiving arm threatened to break mine, ensuring compliance. … >Roughly shoved into a chair, and quickly restrained, my captors remove the blindfold. >A breathtaking rifle envelopes my view. A Howa Type 89. >My eyes are immediately drawn to the 4 point fire selector. >A swift slap greets my cheek. >“Stop staring!” >“Tell me who you are! What are you doing here?” >I raise my head to stare into the eyes of my captor. >My intent was to show defiance. >Instead, I got lost in her hazelnut eyes. >A Japanese supermodel, if I had ever seen one. >Obsidian black waist-length hair. >Gunmetal-grey headband. >And a seriously pissed-off scowl on her face. >The Type-89’s stock greeted my dumbfounded face as the beauty smashed my nose. >I tasted the metallic tang of my own blood in my mouth. >“Answer the question!” >“I’m Anon, okay? I just wandered in here, nothing more. I swear.” >The rifle stock greeted my abdomen with a swift blow. >“Stop lying! You’re here after something!” >“It’s us, isn’t it! You’re after us!” She says, punctuating every sentence with a blow from her rifle. “I won’t let you take us! You’re going to lock us up!” >I pass out from the smacking she’s giving me. … >My head is throbbing. >Dried blood mixed with saliva coats the floor. >My chair has fallen over, but my arms and legs are still bound to the limbs. >The japanese supermodel is quietly sleeping against the wall, clutching the Type-89. >She must’ve tired out after beating on me. >It hurts to think. >I want to close my eyes. >A qt 3.14 wearing a plate carrier enters the room just as I close my eyes. >I was rudely pulled out of my rest when I felt a knife sawing away at my binds. >Feeling circulation returning to my extremities, I try to bat away the gloved hands of my rescuer, believing she was a another tormentor. >“Anon! It’s me! Let’s get outta here before the others wake up!” >I’ve never seen this girl in my life before. >Black hair with yellow highlights, her amber eyes stare into mine. She was the embodiment of female operator. >“Who are you?” I ask. >“Shhhh. Let’s go.” >She supports me as I lean on her, surprisingly strong for someone her size. >Another girl waits outside the hallway. >She’s short. Like, questionable age short. >She waves us over. >She’s carrying my USP Tactical. >The qt carrying me unslings my AR-15. >At this moment, I notice the scratches on the qt’s plate carrier, and the scratches on my rifle. >It finally clicks. >“Waffengeists. Fuck me.” I mutter under my breath.