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Winn Dixie


Dinoz94
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[b]Somewhere in Northern Alabama
Dixie Confederacy
September 27, 20XX
1538 Hours[/b]

Richard Wainwright opened his eyes to observe the makeshift camp he was staying at. He counted no more than seven tents roughly made and erected with ten or twelve men walking around doing various chores, from cutting firewood to keep watch on the surrounding area. Sighing, he wiped his forehead with the back of his left hand. Summer may be over and Fall was just around the corner, but it was still pretty balmy out.

Looking around, he caught sight of one of the men, Thomas Fredrickson, walking up to him. Smiling, Richard said to him, "Ah, good! How's the camp coming along?"

Shrugging, Fredrickson replied, "Well, it could be worse. We've got food, shelter, and access to water, firewood, and even a bathroom."

Nodding, Richard responded, "Oh good. Guess that since the inspection of this camp is complete, we'll go check the others out."

"Right!" Thomas concurred as he followed Richard to a nearby pickup truck that was a bit beat up.

Once both men climbed in, shut the doors, and fastened their seatbelts, Richard gave the order to the truck's driver, a tall skinny man in his late twenties with stubble on his face and bushy red hair, to take them to the other camps. With a simple nod, the driver turned the truck and pulled away from the camp, heading down the rough backwoods road that led to the other camps.

Cradling the Remington 870 pump-action shotgun, Richard sighed as he thought about what led to this. He was the leader of a growing band of people, some 180 in all currently, that hailed from all three states and all walks of life possible in the Confederacy. They all had two things in common: they were all White and they all believed in one common mindset: that modern ways of life were ruining the South. They were uneased by the influx of modern technology over the last few decades, appalled by what they saw as decayed moral values that were tolerated and widely practiced throughout the world, and a few radical members were disgusted by the increasingly multiethnic society of the Confederacy. This group, united in their radical desire for the upholding of Traditional Values, was called the "Association for a New Godly Society" (ANGS), a name which disguised their true belief in achieving their goals through violence.

Over the past few months, the ANGS slowly grew in size, acquiring weapons, mostly from the local civilian market, and gathering most of their followers in northern Alabama. There, they moved deep into the forests away from the towns, cities, and farms, where they would gather strength and devising their plans away from the eyes of vigilante citizens and police forces. Setting up small camps across the northeast, the ANGS would in secret begin making their preparations for implementing their bold plans.

However, they still needed a leader and they quickly found one in the form of Richard, a relatively wealthy businessman from Birmingham who possessed a good degree of intelligence as well as courage and boldness, the very things the ANGS sought in a leader. Not only that, his brother Bill was a banker, thus he would be able to acquire funds to further strengthen the ANGS in addition to his own money.

However, Richard knew they still needed preparation before they would be able to strike.

Edited by LBT88
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[b]Near Pleasant Groves, Alabama
Dixie Confederacy
September 28, 20XX
1351 Hours[/b]

It had finally come to, the commencement of the ANGS' bold plan for ensuring a new more Godly regime would ascend to power in the Confederacy. And to think, Richard thought, it had been only several hours since he had left the camp he slept at. Only a few hours since he and the other ANGS leaders decided it was time to launch their plan in the early morning hours. After making that momentous decision, some 80 vehicles carrying 125 men and women set out from the various camps scattered across northern Alabama and converged into a series of convoys, all heading in the same direction, all heading towards the same destination: the target of today's operation, the small town of Pleasant Groves.

As the cars, trucks, and SUV's owned by the ANGS members rolled into the vicinity of the town, Richard watched the houses, the stores, the trees, all the people wandering around outside. All of that would soon be awash in smoke, flame, and most of all, the horrific stench of death. The fifty-two year old sighed, knowing that soon, very soon, he would be killing people, innocent people, a horrible thing for a Christian like himself to be committing. However, he figured that once he and the rest of the ANGS establish a more Godly and moralistic government, he would be forgiven by God for his and his comrades' sins.

Finally, the 80 vehicles pulled up at the side of the road, each vehicle stopping at a different location. The passengers of all the vehicles got out and took their weapons out, pistols, rifles, shotguns, and the occasional assault rifle and submachine gun. The gunmen walked away from their vehicles, separating to take different positions. The locals just stopped and watched as they saw these folks walking around, cradling guns. Some wondered if they were hunting or participating in some wacky event involving firearms. It was only when the strange gunmen raised their weapons and pointed it at the nearest townsmen that they realized their true intentions.

Sadly, that came too late as the gunmen opened fire, dropping their intended targets. Those not targeted fled, screaming for their lives, until they too were gunned down. As people were running around screaming, the gunmen walked around the town, firing at any civilian in their path. Some of them tossed Molotov cocktails at houses, setting them ablaze and dooming anyone who were hiding within. The gunmen fired at cars that drove by, aiming for their drivers and any passengers within, some of the shots hitting their mark. The cars that had their drivers shot swerved out of control, crashing into trees, buildings, and other cars. Some unfortunate gunsmen were ran over by the out-of-control vehicles, unable to dive out of the way in time. Nevertheless, the others pressed on.

Some gunmen entered houses and stores, shooting dead anyone they found. The ANGS gunmen had been trained in the act of marksmanship and as a result, few riflemen fired wildly. The accurate shooting of most of the gunmen was paying off as people dropping every second from their bullets. A police cruiser suddenly arrived and a policeman stepped out when he was shot through the chest, causing him to drop to the ground, badly wounded. The gunmen moved on, unfazed by his moaning and cries for help. Several more police cars showed up, several cops were gunned down quickly, though others survived, allowing them to take shots at the gunmen. Several ANGS militiamen dropped dead and a few others were wounded. The policemen were soon shot dead or wounded and the gunmen marched on, killing more people, burning buildings, and looting generic items as they moved on. They encountered some resistance from locals who decided to fight back, though they were swiftly put down.

Eventually, the gunmen ceased their rampage and returned to their vehicles. Richard surveyed the carnage, bodies were everywhere, both Human and animal. Some of the corpses were lying with firearms by their sides. There were several burning buildings nearby, torched by the ANGS' Molotovs. He sighed, there was a good amount of destruction wreaked this day and it would surely gain the nation's attention. Soon, everyone who had survived piled back into their vehicles, hid their weapons, and drove away in the same direction they came from, leaving a burning corpse-ridden town in their wake.

[b]Montgomery, Alabama
1714 Hours[/b]

"Are you sure that's what happened?"

"Yes, I am sure of it, Mr. President."

Thomas Beckett sighed, sitting back down in his chair. Rubbing his forehead, he muttered repeatedly, "My God..."

"I... I'm sorry, Mr. President. Truly I am." The aide assured him.

"It ain't your fault..." The 64 year old replied, "It's those Goddamned gunmen who did this damned thing, that's whose fault it is!"

The aide simply nodded as Beckett looked up at him, a look of complete outrage, sadness, and anger on his worn-out face.

"Now, Jenkins, do we know who was responsible for this?"

Nodding again, the aide replied, "Indeed, we do. An hour ago, we received a statement coming from a little-known group calling itself the Association for a New Godly Society claiming they were the perpetrators of the attack. We're currently not sure if they're hiding in towns with the help of sympathetic locals or are just hiding out in the woods."

"Well, from the looks of it, I'd say these !@#$%^&* are out in the forests, easier to hide, gather recruits and equipment, and harder for us to sniff them out."

Beckett looked in the direction of the voice's source, his Military adviser Lieutenant Colonel Carl Lance, and asked him, "And how do we propose we hunt them down, Carl?"

A smile appearing under his bushy mustache, Lance answered, "Simple, we get low-flying scout aircraft to fly over the forests and see if they can spot any of their camps. Then, we get attack aircraft to fly in and blast them with napalm. Surely, these my idols lack the capability to shoot down our aircraft."

Then, General of the Army Tyler Wilcox stated, "Airpower ain't good enough, we should send in the ground-pounders to mop up any survivors."

Nodding, Beckett replied, "Hm, this sounds like a good plan."

Suddenly, a second aide barged in, and he said "Sir! All is ready for you to begin your public statement."

Sighing, the President got up and told the aide, "Alright, tell them to wait, I'm coming."

He looked around the room, everyone nodded as they looked at him in encouragement. He then stepped out of his office and walked down the hallway, entering the press conference room in no time. Sighing as he looked at the horde of journalists and cameras standing and sitting in front of his podium, Beckett began, "Citizens of the Confederacy, earlier today, we have suffered a tragedy like no other. The town of Pleasant Groves, Alabama was assaulted by a group of armed gunmen who killed everyone in their path and then burned a good portion of the buildings to the ground. I have just received word that the group behind the attack is calling itself the Association for a New Godly Society. Do not fret, however, for I have discussed with my advisers and have determined a direct course of measure to make the ANGS pay for their evil deeds. Rest assured, this terrible group will soon be no more than an ugly memory, vanquished by the defenders of freedom and justice. Now, good night, and God bless the Confederacy."

When he was done with his speech, Beckett turned around and walked back up the hallway, heading back to his office. He wondered if these events would be enough to shake the entire Confederacy to its very core.

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