Going through your deceased grandfather's barn, you lift a tarp - and find an old M1 Browning on a tripod of light, wreathed in flames. Angelic voices arise, and you hear a voice, booming yet gentle: "My son, I bequeath upon you this instrument of God's will. With it, you shall rebuild the Kingdom of David and usher in the end of days. Now go look if there's any damn ammo for the thing lying around. Also, start building a bunker. Thus spoke I, King David of the Tribe of Dakka."
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