> Be me
> I’m sitting on my couch with a fully-assembled FAL sitting on a table
> A Rhodesian-issue FAL, if the seller was to be believed
> Or the obvious green and turquoise camouflage pattern on the furniture, for that matter
> Before it’s induction to Rhodesian service, the weapon had been a Belgian rifle, a metric-pattern 50.00 
> I had acquired it from my local gun store of all places, for less money than it was probably worth
> God knows where they got it from, but they certainly didn’t understand the rifle’s value
> Apparently no one wanted a disassembled rifle from some African Bush War in the 70’s
> Which suited me just fine, really
> However, not everyone was entirely happy with this purchase 
> While my family had long since come to terms with my gun-owning, my girlfriend hadn’t
> A 10/22 and 870 were just fine, but for some reason an “assault weapon” wasn’t
> She told me it was her or the rifle 
> So, a few days later, here I was, looking at my fully-assembled rifle 
> It had probably taken more time and effort than necessary 
> But I had been entirely too stubborn to get help with my project
> Besides, doing so had helped me get over the break-up
> So now I was looking my first .308 rifle, and a box full of ammunition that had yet to be opened

> So now I had a rifle that hadn’t been fired since the late 70’s
> I resolved to change that, tomorrow 
> It was a Sunday, after all, and it was getting late
> So, I decided to take up one of my other hobbies
> Drinking and shitposting on the world’s worst cambodian basket-weaving forum
> I was halfway through an F-35 thread and a few drinks when I heard a crash in the living room 
> The first thing that I noticed was my rifle was nowhere to be seen 
> The second was that a woman in strange camouflage had tripped over the table
> She’s also wearing a pair of incredibly short shorts, in a similar pattern 
> I can’t help but notice how they draw attention to her long legs, and shapely rear 
> It’s only then that I connect the dots and realize that she’s in Rhodesian uniform 
> The fact that Rhodesia hasn’t existed since ‘79 doesn’t occur to me  as I go to help the woman up
> She certainly looks no worse for wear, after what you assume is a fall 
> If a bit surprised 
“Who the hell are you?” I ask, more than a little confused 

>The woman chuckles a little at that question, and my visible confusion 
>”I’m a rifle, your rifle to be exact.” 
> But I find her being a rifle a little hard to believe 
> The woman is tall, for a chick, at about 5’ 10”, with tanned skin, pale blue eyes, and brown hair, tied in a braided ponytail sort of thing, and seems to be rather athletic-looking
> She also appears to be somewhere between 18 and 20
> That’s probably not a good sign 

> Her accent is unlike any you’ve heard before
> It’s like South African, but classier 
> It must be a Rhodie thing 
> I was still deeply confused
> Worse yet, I’m wearing nothing but boxers
> I wasn’t expecting guests, so why not, right? 
> Now I find myself half-naked in front of some woman I don’t know
“You can’t be serious”, I found myself saying 
> “I’m not joking, if that’s what you think” the strange woman replied 
“Well, it would certainly explain where the hell my FAL went”, I replied, just as confused as I was a few moments earlier
> “What are you not getting about this? I am your FAL” the woman replied 
“You don’t look like a rifle to me, lady”
>”I don’t see what you’re not getting here” she stated, before pulling a rifle out of nowhere, as if by magic 
>I stood there, dazed for entirely too long 
“Now, how difficult was that”, I asked the strange woman, who now held my rifle
> Or was she the rifle
> I wasn’t quite sure
> It was all happening king of fast
> But, on the other hand, her drawing the FAL out of nowhere certainly meant something
> She couldn’t have hid it in her shorts, that was certain
> There was now an awkward silence in the room
“I’m sorry, I think we got off to a bad start. My name’s Anon, do you go by anything?”, I asked the woman
>”My previous owner never bothered to call me anything, all those years ago. But, you can just call me Fal”
“That’s better than nothing, I guess. I’ll give you a proper name tomorrow” 
>”Would you, really?”, she asked, the pitch of her voice raising by a few octaves
“It’s the least I can do”

> It was now that I looked at my clock, and realized it was about midnight 
> It was midnight, and I was standing in my living room in little but my underwear, talking to a woman who claimed to be a battle rifle 
>Just an average Sunday night, really 
> Unfortunately, while this whole talking rifle business is nice and all, I still had work in the morning 
> I offered to let her take the bed, while I would sleep on the couch
> She said the couch would be more than enough 
> I told her to suit herself, and grabbed a few extra blankets and a pillow for her
> I had no idea what a rifle needed to sleep, but it was probably better than sitting in a crate coated in gun oil for years on end
> I didn’t even know if she was tired, but I’d be damned if I stayed up much longer
> So, I killed the last of my drink and headed to the shower
> I proceeded to take a long, cold, shower 
> I was confused, if nothing else 
> Neither my 10/22 nor my 870 had ever displayed any signs of a machine-spirit
> But my FAL could apparently turn into a young woman 
> I made a mental note to ask her about it in the morning 
> With that, I decided it was finally time to get out of the shower 
> So, I got out, wrapped myself in a towel, and headed off in the general direction of my bed
> Surprisingly enough, Fal had fallen asleep on the couch
> Not wanting to wake her, I turned off the lights and headed to bed

> I quickly fell asleep
> I dreamt of African bush conflicts, despite never having set my foot outside of the US
> It was strange, really
> I was awakened very early in the morning by the feeling of something warm pressed against my body
> Unsurprisingly, it was Fal
> She clearly hadn’t been happy with the couch after all 
> Either that or sitting in a crate as a parts kit for who knows how long was an incredibly lonely experience 
> I wasn't in much of a position to care, and quickly decided any questions could wait until morning 
> Besides, was sleeping with a rifle all that weird? 
> I certainly wouldn’t be the first /k/ommando to sleep with a weapon, at any rate
> With that, I drifted off to sleep 

> The next time I was awakened, it was by my phone’s alarm 
> It was time for work 
> So, I stumbled out of bed to the kitchen and began brewing coffee as well as my groggy mind would allow 
> I then proceeded to shower once more 
> It was probably a waste, but I couldn’t help but feel that I needed it 
> After cleaning up, I walked back to my bedroom and began to quickly dress
> As I did so, Fal stirred, before stretching her arms and letting out a loud yawn 
“How’d you sleep?” I asked the rifle-woman
> “Pretty alright, thanks”, Fal replied, still waking up 
“Well, you’re under no obligation to get up. I’ll leave some breakfast out for you.” 
> I wasn’t even sure if she ate anything but 7.62mm ball ammunition, but I figured offering her some food was the right thing to do 
> She replied with a “thanks” before turning over and falling asleep again 
> I then returned to the kitchen, fetching myself a tall mug of coffee
> Black, of course 
> I then began to fry up a combination of potatoes, eggs, bacon, peppers and onions 
> Goddamn it smelled good 
> I ate, leaving half the food for Fal, along with a note explaining where I was, when I’d be back, and that she was more than welcome to anything she needed in the house
> With that done, I grabbed a second cup of coffee and headed to work