Warning all childrens now for swearing. Protect your innocent eyes!
—Happi Zebra

Factions of War

Chapter One

Gathering of the Factions

It started as a fan-site. Then the anti-fans came. They conquered. They suffered bans and losses. They ruled. The site was MX. The flock's very existence was denied. Of course it was; who believed that crap was real? It wasn't even plausible. I read once that the most unbelievable story was usually the truest. I can believe that. In this, we fucked ourselves right up the ass: the flock was real. Anti-fans looked like douches. Fans looked like smug little bastards. This was war.

The Mafia didn't much care that the flock was real, aside from that whopping great 'holy fuck' moment. They didn't care much about anything that didn't affect them. Nothing on MX affected them, but that wouldn't stop them joining in the antics.

The Knights, Itex Hatahs and a fuckload of other groups were ecstatic. The more lifeless and obsessed of them left home and grouped together, ready to hunt down and help the flock, as if they didn't have enough people looking for them. When the combined efforts of the Obsessed turned up nothing, they decided to go looking for a target they knew. A danger they understood. An enemy they hated. They went looking for Nathan.

Nathan was ficcing madly, mind-boggled over the scientific fuck up that had resulted in the flock's existence. Nathan thought she was safe. Nathan hadn't thought he was a target. Nathan hadn't considered any of it real. MX mattered almost as little to her as it did to the Mafia. MX was a place for his amusement. Nathan got an email from the Obsessed. Nathan was quite possibly fucked. They knew where she was.

The Flock loved trolling. They'd played several 'newbs' on forums over the years, but once Max had her 18th birthday, their secretive ways vanished. Proof. Irrefutable proof. Time-stamped videos. Posted minutes after being recorded. Requested messages spoken for added authenticity. The Flock was real. Undeniable fact. They threw the entire site into a battlefield, the newbish fans rising up to cast down their anti-fan oppressors, the anti-fans slaughtering masses of 10-year-olds with well-placed snide comments and logic.

The factions were each fighting their own battle and, as of yet, no one was losing. Several factions were surviving solely due to their numbers, others through their wit, even more through their faith and love. And through it all, the flock watched and laughed and said that they'd done it for the lulz and would do it again, even knowing the damage their fans would take. The Flock, it is sad to say, are all douches. The Anti-fans knew this. Pity the Fans. It was news to them.