After the official opening of Gathering of the Tribes, complete with 12 pound Napoleon cannon salute courtesy of the Montana Freemen, Charles and I headed behind the Grub Shack as instructed. Maybe a dozen guys where there when a short stocky guy in Carhart jeans, faded navy blue t-shirt, faded Chicago Cubs hat worn backwards and battered Wiley-X sun glasses arrived.
“Youse guyz here fer the graduate programs”
Nods and mumbled agreement.
The guy had a beard that looked like it would need to be shaved with a weed eater and a wad of Copenhagen snuff in his lower lip the size of a tootsie roll. “Ahn youse gots yer tech and pack and all de udder stuff ewes spozed to have? Den weze off.”
He hoisted a battered ALICE pack and headed up a little goat path over a hill and down into the next valley. In the valley was a battered F350 diesel truck, a cattle trailer and a bigger dude in faded 5.11’s , equally faded “Club Git ‘mo” t-shirt. “Welcome gents. We’re going to take a little ride maybe half an hour. He back of the truck has no shade but less dust, The trailer has more dust and more shade.”
Charles and I and some other dude ended up in the bed of the truck, while the rest piled into the trailer. The ride was almost exactly 30 minutes and I figure it took us 5 – 7 miles. We pulled up at some old cattle run in sheds. One was a thee sided affair with 4 small tents set up inside, the other had no sides but did have a blue tarp stretched across part of one side.
Two burly guys were waiting for us. “Ok dump your **** over here in the shade then grab a chair from the back of the truck.”
“Ok you guys have been watched for a while. What you’ve been watched for is something called ‘The Network’. Now don’t get all hibbly gibbly on me. The Network is a bunch of men in and out of the government. The idea is to help protect the homeland using retired military and leveraging the militia movement that’s growing up. Now we’ve weeded out the nut cases and whanna be’s and racist whackos. What’s left if you and guys like you. Impressive are you not?”
“Ok you’ve all been studying the Civil Affairs material we’ve been sending you. You role is somewhat like a military Civil Affairs officer except you’ll be coordination ex-military folks and local militia and patriot groups. We’re going to spend next few days in a Finishing School of sorts. We’re going to set you up with some comms. They’re yours to keep. There is no bill and no data limit but try to keep the Filipino donkey porn to a minimum.”
“Seriously these don’t look like much but they’re pretty high speed low drag. They have an amazing battery life and are lightning fast. If you go off the reservation it’ll self-destruct! Ok no, it won’t but it will stop working. Also if the authorities shut down the cell networks these will still work. Cool huh? Questions?”
“So you give us orders to carry out through those things?”
“Not so much orders as suggested tasking’s. If you get something that is illegal or doesn’t smell right to you, don’t do it. Worst thing we can do is cut you off. You must not do anything that violates the Constitution. Many of you are Oath Keepers as am I.”
“We’re not all there is are we?” I asked.
“Not by a long shot. How many are there? I have no idea.”
He went into more details and man by man we became hooked on the program. We spent the next few days doing role playing civil affairs operations and were back at the main camp in time for the big evening meal.
It was bittersweet when the program ended and we went our separate ways.
Officer Kayla Washington was rethinking her decision to become a police officer. At 28 she found herself with a Masters of Arts degree in Urban Studies, a quarter million dollars in college debt and no job. The jobs she could find would shortly be found out by the banks who would put a serious lien on the income. She found a federal program to become a police officer. The program would halt payments on the loan so long as she worked as a law enforcement officer her loan payments would be suspended along with her federal income taxes and after 10 years the loan would be forgiven.
Kayla figured with her advanced academic degree after checking the box at the police academy she wouldn't be wasted as a plain street cop long. She's probably be an administrator or assistant to the Chief or Superintendent doing grant requests or studies. Perhaps her background in Urban Studies would allow her to develop innovative strategies for the department.
Her time at the Academy was awful. The marching , what was this the Napoleon era? The running and exercises at 7:00 am, she only passed the pullups part of the PT test by the grace of a sister recruit. Each fudged for the other that they could complete one pullup. Kayla actually liked shooting her handgun a little bit, especially when they swapped her to the slightly smaller Glock 19. It wasn't something she'd do on her day off with her own money but was kinda fun. Shooting the AR15 was not as much fun, too heavy and the targets too far away. The 12 gauge Benneli shotgun was awful. It kicked so hard. Worse was the weapon retention and hand-to-hand classes that left her bruised and sweating. Law classes weren't too bad if way below her vast intellect. They didn’t write papers on what the law meant but simply how to recognize violations of existing law. Maybe once on her feet go back to law school she thought.
Once 'on the force' her Sergeant and training officer had other ideas. Remedial combative and retention either before or after a tour. She was only allowed day and evening shifts long after her classmates began to go out with training officers on the dreaded but very exciting over-night shift.
The sergeant and training officer were writing up paper work to release Kayla at the end of her probationary period before she killed someone or herself but word came down from the top that this wasn't happening. At a loss they paired her with one of the most street savvy and experienced officers in hopes some of it would rub off and she wouldn't get herself killed.
Nick wasn't a bad guy for a white man Kayla thought. The brothers had respect for him, didn't exactly like him but showed respect. On the Mexican side of town he was actually well liked. It was only with difficulty he could pay for a cup of strong coffee or his favorite Chorizo Torta sandwich from one of the street carts.
They were in the 'hood' tonight, one of the Indian or was it Pakistani she could never tell them apart, little smoke, booze and junk food shops was being harassed by some young 'darker men' as the dispatchers called them. They arrived and found one huge black man bellowing in the shop like a bull. Nick went in and almost had him calmed and walked out when the man suddenly became enraged and charged knocking Nick to the ground and attempting to pound his head into the floor.
Kayla had her ASP baton out in an instant but her lack of training failed her at this point. She swung the flexible metal baton in a fairly feeble manner and managed only a glancing blow. Instead if distracting him with intense pain he got up and darn near roared, Kayla dropped the baton.
The perp charged giving her a hard straight arm to the chest knocking her backward and off her feet. He turned back to the stunned Nick on the ground intending to stomp his head in.
It was like a dream Kayla was up an her Glock 19 was out. She'd whacked her head on the ground she was wobbly and her eyes weren't well focused.
Somebody had come into the store and was now videotaping with a ubiquitous high end cell phone. The intrepid videographer couldn't see officer Nick sprawled helpless on the ground. "Don't shoot him! He gots no gun!"
Training totally failed Kayla at this point. With the roaring monster back to her and about to stomp her partner she never said a word. She dumped 16 rounds in the general direction of the crazed black man only managing three hits from a distance of 15 feet. One grazed his left side near the ribs, another dug a gouge in the right bicep. The final Federal 124 gr HST hit him perfectly at the base of the skull. Her lack of height and the perps excess height drove the bullet at an upward angle through the skull. Blowing a large chunk of forehead out killing him instantly, quite likely saving officer Nick's life.
It was all caught on high definition, image stabilized digital video. "You killed him. You didn't have to kill him. He's black just like you why did you shoot him!"
At that point more officers poured into the store. The videographer sensing she had something big immediately uploaded the video to the cloud and shared it on her You Tube page. She just locked her phone before police began to question her.
The video out of full context was damning. It appeared to show a police officer shooting a man in the back with no warning. The video was copied and recopied. Text messages were sent and professional agitators packed bags and made travel plans. The press didn't make things better - playing the video essentially on a loop. Their 'experts' used to add color to the action were by and large self-aggrandizing former police bureaucrats.
It was hot in North central Mexico. Easily as hot as most of their home countries. The plane and its crew had arrived and was inside the old hanger. About half the brothers had arrived for the grand martyrdom mission. News from the great satin peaked the leaders interest. Riots over police killing. The city was less than 200 miles from the intended target, 200 miles closer in fact …
The Leader was keenly interested in a message from Tehran, sources in the Great Satan believed a city not 150 miles from the intended target was going to erupt into riots over a police officer shooting a criminal. He’d never understand the Americans. The sources said the riots were set to last 3 or maybe 4 days, how sources the length of a riot would last was confusing but often as not they were correct. He had a problem at this point, he could switch targets and jump early. This wasn’t the planned target, it was roughly half the size of the original target, the bothers hadn’t planned for this city and only half the bothers has arrived at the jump off site in Mexico. The head pilot said it was easily in range of the aircraft, actually a bit closer. With fewer men onboard he could load more fuel, equating to a bigger boom. He could easily reach the original target for his martyr run once he dropped the brothers. The runway at the new airport was long enough and the airport itself was ‘international’ so they hack into the air traffic control system should work.
Part of the leader’s mind screamed to stick with the plan. He watched some you tube videos of recent riots. It was sooo tempting. He did the Salat-l-Istikhara hoping to get some guidance. In the morning he called his unit leaders -giving them the new city the operation would be the following evening. They were to use their 'surfaces' find new targets for their units then brief back. To one of his Lieutenants, the one who spoke some Spanish , "Ask our hosts if they can provide American police uniforms."
An hour later, "They can if the quality of the fit is not important. I asked them provide them to us. They recommended we trade weapons with them. They will trade us one for one AK's for AR15's. Most of these come from something called 'Fast and Furious' they claim the Great Satin gave rifles to them. "
Harm brewed a double strong cup of Black Rifle Coffee Company 'Murdered Out' from a fresh bag. The smell was one of life's true pleasures. He half-filled a much battered stainless steel mug and added a tablespoon of coconut oil and a tablespoon of butter then mixed vigorously with a spoon to make bullet proof coffee. His gig at the NSA was a cushy one. He could veg out and watch internet videos all day if he wanted to. Truth be told every once in a while he did just that but only once a month or so. Today he was checking google searches on the Black Lives Matter riots that might or might not explode. His money and the money of his colleagues was explode. NSA hadn't been given direct access to Googles data and hadn't been allowed to attempt a hack, well as far has harm knew they hadn't.
The Germans now, those cleaver Germans had hacked Google, but the US wasn't allowed to hack the Germans either. Allies and what not. The Russians, they hadn't managed to hack Google either but had managed to hack the Germans who had hacked Google. So Harm had access to some data Google would prefer he not have. He suspected both the Germans and the Russian knew from time to time the Americans spied on Google this way, but since everyone hated Google they allowed it.
Harm did a heat map to visualize the searches on the soon to be rioted city just to see if there were any surprises. There was. Why was there a hot spot in butt end of nowhere Mexico. He took a long pull on his coffee, man that was good. Harm wrote a quick query to pull a bunch of data for really dive into, while it was running he set up his pot to brew three normal cups of Murdered Out. He was on to something and needed more fuel but didn't need to caffeinate to the bejezus belt.
Wow there were a lot of separate devices in that one area doing a lot of searches. He shot a quick IM to a SatRecon guy who knew that area of Mexico. What the heck was there? Answer - 'Can I get some of your coffee?'
'Yes, now what's there?'
'Be up in a minute.'
Harm growled and looked at the type of queries. They were google map searches. He was able to follow the thread of the searches. They started with the Airport, that was odd the Airport was maybe 12 miles from where the riots were expected. Were they thinking of smuggling drugs or illegals in under cover of the riots? Why do that? After taking office one of her first actions as president was to make the border as porous as a spaghetti strainer.
Wham! Wham! At the door was SatRecon coffee moocher.
"If you weren't in that wheel chair I'd kick your mooching butt ..."
"Yeah, well I'd roll over your toes if they weren't stainless steel. Now fill 'er up" He extended a possibly more battered vacuum mug. Taking a deep swig of rich black coffee, "Oh man that's the stuff. Ok at that site is pretty much nothing. An abandoned Mexican Airforce base with a long runway. A pretty decent cell tower a few miles off, fast 4G data service. Not really a heck of a lot."
"Alright man how much lead time to do a 'focus and calibration' on the site."
"Two hours maybe less, gunna need it?"
"Duh'no. Prolly not."
"Well if it's something that can get us in trouble you know where to find me. Top me off for the road?"
The wheeled coffee guzzler had made off with two of his three cups of fresh coffee.
Harm would send the standard reports up the chain in a few minutes but first he clicked <ctrl> <alt><t><p> to open a secret Instant Message protocol. He'd passed a few things up this way before and nothing ever happened. This time the reply was almost immediate.
THIS IS OF GREAT INTEREST
WORK TOP PRIORITY
PASS INFO UP YOUR CHAIN
WILL MONITOR VIA YOUR CHAIN
STAND BY FOR FURTHER TASKING
Woah that was fast.
Harm set to work informing his chain of command ....
He’d worked with the DEA since being honorably discharged from the Wounded Warrior Battalion. He picked up a third fluent language, Spanish and with this picked up a gig with the DEA monitoring all sorts of traffic from north central mexico. He spent hours listening to sped up audio , like listing to Speedy Gonzales , of cell phone intercepts and reading text messages from cartels. Today they were all bent out of shape over costumes. Now over the years he’d heard lots of odd stuff. There was the time one of the Jeffe’s little cousins was sick and wanted a particular kind of ice cream that had been discontinued. The messages flew fast and furious as sicarios and other assorted thugs scoured the country looking for that particular flavor of ice cream and ended up with a good squad in black escalades rolling into the ice cream factory and forcing them to produce a batch of that flavor at gun point! They could move lightening quick like that or it could take until monyanna …
The watch before turned over something about costumes. He listened to some of it and read through some texts. Then dug back the day before. Not costumes the original request was for uniforms. Odd they didn’t wasn’t the customs and border patrol or TSA uniforms. They wanted plain old police uniforms, odd. They needed a lot of them, so would costumes work. Still not enough. Jackets with ‘Police’ could be sewn together at a local sweat shop. That seems to be the solution. He did some wrangling to look at a couple pictures texted from one cartel flunky to another. It was from those BLM riots, must have been cops called in on short notice. The jacket was a basic blue wind breaker with an embroidered star/badge on the front and POLICE on the back. The second picture was the hasty replica, the badge was crude and silver instead of yellow / gold and the lettering was even cruder, the wrong size and white instead of yellow but from a distance... Better or maybe worse it seemed to meet the needs and 50 would be enough.
Why would fifty druggies want raid jackets around a race riot? He’d boot this up the chain but first there was that other place that wanted tipped off. He wasn’t sure what it was all about but when his old Forces Buddy said it was important he believed. So <ctrl><alt><3><5> opened a message box. He didn’t even think that above the 5 key was the % - so it could be read Control Alt Three Percent ….
The retired Col puzzled the events in Mexico. The spike in google map and google earth traffic from butt end of no place Mexico. Then there was somebody franticly making 50 replica police raid jackets for a drug cartel in the area. He looked at the empty coffee pot and the bag of Black Rifle Blunderbuss Brew but decided on tea. Not the Lipton tea from the grocery store his tea was supplied by the retired head of India’s Naval Commandos. They’d trained together and darn near drown on the last time. The tea was strong and black, the Col took it Indian style with a shot of whole milk.
As the Col drank his tea the source for the information on the ‘Google spike’ reported more information he gathered his own from a closer look at the searches. It seemed like they started at the Airport well away from the riots and then radiated out some towards the riots others way ending at hospitals, a power plant and a factory / industrial district.. He got a really bad feeling. He opened a message window to his much abused deputy.
“I see it and I don’t get it either. The cartel couldn’t have a whole jet at that airfield could they? Is that runway even still functional?“
“Let me see if I can get a tasking to look at it, hell maybe I can just get somebody to drive out there and look around. Take a note for me, feasibility of expanding The Network to Mexico and Canada heck maybe the Caribbean too. Can you put a bug in the ear of some of our contacts in the official chain?”
The Col got some other big brains in on the problem and tried to get either a tech recon or even a live person to drive up to check out the old airfield. He got a report back from on Google Spike. There were about 50 separate devices searching google maps and google earth. About two thirds of the devices were cheap Chinese smart cell phones of a type not imported to the US but widely available
in the sand box. The other third of the devices was cheap Chinese tablets, again of a type not imported to the US but widely available in the sand box.
The tech/satellite recon was going to take some time. Darn the laws of physics and orbital dynamics . A message from his deputy opened.
“Official chain is notified and somewhat interested but are a wee pre-occupied. They think maybe upward of 2,000 ‘spontaneous demonstrators’ are arriving in town for the peaceful demonstrations that Black Lives Matter is ginning up. Intel points to some real bad actors. The Governor has called out the National Guard. At the same time the President has her Justice Department doing their best to de-nut the Guard. I hear they’re even individually contacting the Guard Officers and threating er educating them personally. At this point I’d think the Chief of Police might welcome our raid jacketed mystery crew as reinforcements.”
A thought was lurking somewhere in the Col’s mind but it wouldn’t form. He was out of tea so decided to brew some Blunderbuss Brew coffee. What would the Cartel be doing in the middle of America. What could they steal or smuggle in or smuggle out that would be worth the effort and expense. He messaged a Network contact at the FAA asking if there were flights from Mexico to the city of interest.
The contact said most flights to the city had been canceled period and nothing international was inbound for days.
It was getting on dinner time and the Col thought about heading home. Hell he’d just flip channels watching the riots, here he had multiple monitors. He called to the security post and told the Sergeant on duty there to call to a small Korean joint to deliver an order of beef and green beans, an order of the ‘off menu’ kim chi and to order dinner for himself and put it on the Col’s tab.
The FAA contact got to thinking what was flying towards a city expected to be in a riot. He found a 707-320F , a freight hauler from Texas. He did some research and there had never been a cargo flight between these airports. A little more research showed flights from the Texas airport almost always went to the West Coast. Something didn't look right about the flight plan. A little more digging and a call to a friend in 'IT'. There was something definitely wonky. There was no record of a take-off and the log numbers were not in the right range. Alarm bells went off in the FFA man's head, that flight hadn't existed an hour ago and a flight from Mexico City to Denver disappeared.
How the heck had that happened? What he didn't know a several parts of the air traffic control system had been outsourced by American companies to off-shore companies in India. Some of the Indian programmers had made a few extra dollars leaving some back doors into this system. These had only rarely and very very carefully been used before then left dormant.
The FAA man opened the secure messenger to The Network, alerting the Col. He tried to alert his supervisor. She looked at it and declared it to be nothing, this part of the ATC system wasn't 100% perfect and the 707-320F was following a valid flight plan ....
The Col. took the FAA man's report. Maybe something in the nearly thermonuclear, special off menu kim chi brought the Col mind into focus. What if it wasn't drug cartel smuggling in or out? What if it was some flavor of jehadi? What kind of hell could they raise? They could attack the police, they could commit atrocities dressed as police and really throw gasoline on the riots. The hit the emergency 'all hands' to his deputies as he searched the database for the nearest resource. Charles Washington with the Guardian Angles. The Col. tried to raise him via secure IM.
It was cold and crowded on the floor of the cargo plane. But everyone was excited. Even though this wasn't the original target is was a opportunity not to be missed. The AR15 rifles felt strange but for their purposes should be more than enough.
Charles and I were chatting on line. He'd crossed the river and was assisting an up and coming Angles Force. They had managed to turn a few whanna be rioters away from a residential area the night before. Charles was nervous, word on the street was tonight was going to be the Big Show. The media had time to arrive in force along with seasoned rioters from all over the country.
"Hey man are you packing?"
Charles replied, "I know my permit isn't valid here. Holy carp, the Col is IM me direct and the box is flashing big and red. Gotta go."
>>> Charles this is the Col, I have a Network Tier 1 Tasking for you
The Network had four tiers. Tier 0 was the Col and his deputies, they were technically still active duty military working on ‘special research’ projects and where located near the 19th Special Forces in Draper Utah . Tier 1 was retired operators from various special forces units. They were a least Army Rangers with everything from Airforce Pararescuemen to Navy Special Warfare Combat Crewmen. They had individual weapons and gear, most of which could be bought open market. They stayed in reasonable shape, most of them were in their 40’s but a few old timers were well into their 60’s. Tier two were militia guys, they had been scouted and recruited. They were the indigenous forces to the Tier Two spec ops. Tier three were folks in place in the government that provided covert support to The Network. A surprising number of Tier 3 assets were in wheel chairs or were missing an eye or a leg.
The call went out all Tier 1 guys within two hours of the airport. There were a grand total of five. The first was an Airforce Tactical Air Control Party Specialist, the second and third were Army Rangers, the fourth and most senior was a Special Operations Qualified Marine Infantry Officer and the last a Coast Guard hospital man who’d weaseled his way into Joint Special Operations Command.
Three of the deputy commanders at The Network burned up the lines of every law enforcement contact they had. Maddeningly nobody would listen. The flight was in the system so though a little unusual there were bigger fish to fry.
Charles worked his contacts with the Guardian Angles. One of the local Angles owned a combination roto-rooter, carpet cleaning and gutter cleaning service. He had a location near the airport with a compound like yard fenced in behind the brick building that served as an office and workshop. The outfit had several panel vans that could be pressed into service if need be. Several other Angles were working to make contact with friends of friends who were local law enforcement or people who worked on the ramp area K of the airport or at one of the Fixed Base Operators .
The Airforce guy arrived first. He’d had a running conversation the Col and the inbound Marine Officer on the way down. The Airforce man had a working knowledge of airports and their operation. I office had a computer of course and a large screen TV that could serve as the monitor. Based in the current he determined the likely runway P and direction of the landing.
At this point a third Angle arrived with a brother in law who was a local SWAT officer arrived. The brother –in-law had been knocked in head with a rock the rioting evening before and now had a moderate concussion. He was out of the fight tonight. He was furious with the Justice Department. It seemed the President thought full gear with helmets I and riot armor was too intimidating or more likely gave the police too big an advantage. So the President ordered her Justice Department to direct police to not wear military style helmets or uniforms lest the flow of gravy from Uncle Sugar be cut off. So the chucked rock that would have merely scared the poo out of him damn near killed him.
The officer was not particularly happy to find an old white guy with a cut down AR15 and HK USP pouring over a satellite map of the airport. His mood didn’t improve when the bother in law admitted he didn’t personally know the old white guy with a cut down AR15 and HK USP pouring over a satellite map of the airport. The officers mood worsened when O another old Hispanic guy with a shorty AR15 and Glock 17 arrived. When the officer spoke to ‘The Col’ on speaker phone and the Col was able to give some amazing C details about the officers military service he began to believe.
So the situation was determined to be thus.
1. There was going to be one hell of a riot in town. Crowds were even now forming up.
2. There was probably a large jet aircraft inbound with up to 50 police impersonators aboard who might be drug cartel goons or maybe jehadis.
3. The goal of said inbounds was unknown but quite likely to spread fear, confusion and destruction.
4. There were three more armed trained folks inbound but none had worked together before.
5. Nobody else was listening assuming there was something to listen to
6. The plane was 90 minutes out
They formed a plan of such as it was. Observe and contain. There was a point on the taxiway where the aircraft would be quite close to the security fence. The other side of the fence was a relatively busy road. Airforce dude figured they’d pop a cargo hatch the guys would scramble out, run to and breach the fence, then get picked up.
“How do you know they’re going be picked up?”, asked the Police Officer.
“How else are they going to get vehicles to move around in? Go to the Avis counter and rent something?”
I was driving down the intestate to Angel Charles Washington’s AO somewhere behind me were Gravy and MrsGravy and Shorty and Boomer. Boomer had turned out to be less of a jerk over the last year or so. He and Shorty even turned into a bit of an item, rumor was cohabitation was involved… I hadn’t been able to raise Doc Ratchet. MrsGravy was trying but she couldn’t raise the old Coast Guard fart either.
My directions took me off the interstate a little earlier than idea and from then on two lane highway and surface streets to a large inner city Mega Church where we’d link up with some of the Guardian Angles to help them out. Provide security and over watch as they attempted to keep riots out of their neighborhoods.
It was just 15 minutes until full dark.
Prayers were said both on the plane and on the ground as it touched down. It rolled to the end of the run way and made a right turn instead of a left. Then stopped.
The tower figured the pilot just made a wrong turn and were about to contact when the was a flash behind the aircraft. The traffic control tower exploded.
It had taken a special team of the brothers less than 90 seconds to scramble out of the plane, set up two super dragon missiles and fire. The task being made easier by pre-planning the shot and presetting the range. The first missile hit directly in the flight control center. The second missed, possibly knocked low by the blast from the first but the impact could not have been better. The missile hit the floor above the main level of the building. Where the TSA, Homeland Security and police had offices.
The Marine and cop changed the plan on the fly. They placed the service vans with sawhorse barricades and flashing lights on the street. In the middle of the blocked street they placed the Squad car and Doc Ratchet’s Jeep with lights going. From either end it looked like a traffic accident or maybe emergency utility work.
He knew he was to pick up brother fighters. He’d rented a big chevy suburban. Although instructed not to he’d build a bomb in the back, 50 lbs of fertilizer and fuel oil, boosted with 4 six gallon gas cans and propane cylinder. His hope was to abandon the monster vehicle, crack open the propane and set the explosive off by remote/cell call. The 50 lbs of fertilizer with four separate detonators would be boosted by the propane and possibly throw burning fuel as well.
Again against his orders he’s gotten a High Pointe 9 mm pistol and a box of wicked looking Rest in Peace ammo to go with it.
He was stressing now. There was traffic keeping him and his van from the appointed spot. He got to the head of the line of traffic and there were simple wood barricades. He stopped the Suburban, got out and started to move the barricade
The Ranger stepped toward the barricade and used his best command voice and a knife hand, “Sir Police Emergency! Step Away From the Barricade!”
Fahrvergnügen! That hurt! That muther just shot me right in the trauma plate! In a flash the Ranger had side stepped to the left, drew his prized Les Bear 1911 and shot the man in the face with a 230 Speer Gold Dot, dumping him on the ground.
Behind him twin KAROOM! KAROOM! Caused the former Ranger to spin and drop prone. In the sky was the remains for the fire from the missiles hitting the tower.
Things got very side ways, very fast. Men just visible in the fading light began to scramble out the popped cargo hatches on the freightliner aircraft. Some ran towards the fence and road. Others ran towards the terminal. While the rental of cars had been shut down a hack into the rental car ordering system , left by an offshore IT contracting company, caused three different rental car companies to have 2 full size sedans each fueled and ready to go.
The jehadis were organized into squads of four, one man in each squad had spent considerable time with their Mexican hosts learning to steal cars. While they could in a pinch steal cars at random, actually the original plan, but having cars gassed and ready to roll in a more or less known location seemed a good idea. In minutes they had breached a fence from the ramp area to the non-secure area of the airport. They even managed to throw a few grenades and shoot a few infidels. A few minutes after that they had broken into and hotwired the waiting cars are were headed into to spread mischief in the riot torn city. They would miss the big fun as they would not be attacking inside the riot zone but elsewhere.
The officer with the Tier 1 Network men was trying to do a few things at once. He was trying to report up the chain and bring in reinforcements. The Network Guys had started to open fire. Aimed, disciplined fire. The operators were handicapped not having the night vision advantage they enjoyed while working for Uncle Sam.
The leaders of the jehadis took some initiative. Instead of charging into the fight some of the small unit leaders lead their men towards the terminal. They would follow the initial plan, steal cars from the vast parking lot or just kill infidels at the airport.
Those that pressed on found a grassy drainage, not really a ditch but a two foot deep, grassed depression to carry away large quantities of water in the event of a heavy rain. About eight jihadis made it there a put up a spirited fight.
Meanwhile down at the riot the Incident Commander was in a mess. It was already starting to get ugly. A few molatov coctails were spotted and officers used their initiative and pepper balls , paintball guns modified to fire balls full of pepper spray powder, to stop the actual lighting and throwing of said cocktails. This earned the IC angry bellowing from a bull dyke Justice Department lawyer. He sent a few of his reserve force to see what this fire was at the airport. The sight of police leaving the scene caused the mob to grow more excited and emboldened.
Then he got a report from the national guard, they were moving on their own to the airport to put down the firefight. Firefight? Those idiots there was no firefight there was a fire at the airport.
Maybe he should quit, roll out to the farm in his Jeep, lock the gate and let the rioters burn the town.
The fight at the ditch was a bit of a cluster. Nobody could really move. At one point one of the jihadi sleeper pickup drivers made his way back to the road, he crept up and fired wildly with a Taurus 380, hitting the unsuspecting in the body armor . It hurt more than one would have suspected. Two network men opened up but the little bastard escaped.
Five up armored Humvees rolled in from across the airport and opened up on the ditch jehadi’s and that was that.
Somebody had thought to fire several rounds into the engine of the air craft lest it take off and do a 9/11 someplace. The pilots had not been idle. They had detailed instructions on how to place explosives with some timers. The explosion had been planned long ago but never attempted in real life. In the moments after the battle at the ditch concluded while National Guard Troopers milled about smartly the first explosives went off sending the remaining jet fuel into the air. A second set of charges ignited the fuel. It didn’t quite make a fuel air explosive but was a massive fire ball. Most of the guardsmen were horribly burned, Doc Ratchet and the rest of the Network operators burned themselves set to work providing first aid.
They made for an infidel church, actually an old school re purposed into an inner city church and school for Negro children. It was a center for what the infidels called Social Justice Warriors. Pulling up in front of the building two men got out of the stolen rental car in their imitation police raid jackets.
There were two guards in ridiculous red berets at the entrance. The larger of them stepped forward, “The police are not welcome here! “
The men in police raid jackets kept moving forward.
The two huge black men moved to block their progress. “He said police are not welcome here! “
Mahoud raised his AR15 thoughtfully provided by the US Justice Department via a Mexican drug cartel and the Fast and Furious program. He shot the loud mouth three times in the belly. The second man spun with amazing speed and started to flee when he was shot in the back by the second fake police officer.
A third man from the car had videotaped it with his I-pad. He ducked back inside the car as three men entered the school to commence the serious killing. He quickly reviewed the video, amazed at the quality. It appeared two police officers had just shot and killed two unarmed Guardian Angles without warning. The video was uploaded to a site in Syria. From Syria the video was sent to Social Justice sites all over the US. In the ten minutes it took for the shooters to raise hell in the Church the video was already streaming on devices in the middle of the riot not 5 miles away.
At the police command post one of the officers watching social media felt his blood go cold and suppressed the urge to **** and vomit at the same time. There was video of police officers shooting unarmed black men in the city.
The Col was on a call with the former Marine Officer concerning the fight at the edge of the airport. One of his deputies broke into the call. He’d been cued to the video of the fake police officers killing the unarmed black Guardian Angles appearing on social media. “Sir it’s not on Facebook or Twitter yet but it will be within minutes.”
After the Col took a minute to view it he replied in a calm voice, “Well that’s going to be a hell of a mess.” To the Marine, “Captain, stand by please.” On all call to all his directors, “ Send a general alert to everyone in the Network, stand by for heavy seas. All areas, this is going to spread like wild fire.“ An idea hit. “Tell everyone to counter battery fire the video. Post it as Fake News to every social media link they have. SPAM the living carp out of it. Somebody see if we can de-authenticate the video and make a video of our own detailing the fake parts. Break. XO call me back separate channel. “
“XO , there are two assets I’ve been keeping very close to the vest. I’m sending you e-dossiers now. You’ll know what to do. Out”
The XO looked at the electronic file names. He recognized both, regular contributors to Fox News one male and one female. The lady had been an Army officer and had gone on patrol with infantry units in Afghanistan to win the hearts and minds of Afghan women. The man had been a Navy fighter pilot. Could they get the ‘fake news’ on the air at Fox? Would it make any difference?
Just we got to the Church my cell rang, It was Charles Washington. “Reloads, I think something bad happened at the Church. I’m getting a blizzard of texts and rumors. How far out are you?”
“We’re just rolling in now. Oh hell there are two Angels down at the door, back to you soonest”
I grabbed may med ruck and started to charge in but I heard the dry humor of my EMS instructor in my head “Is the scene safe?” I shouldered my med ruck and spoke to Gravy and Mrs Gravey , “Cover me but keep it low key.” I had my Glock out but held low and discrete. The first Angle was code black, no pulse, no spontaneous respirations and in an exsanguination level pool of blood. Boomer joined me , with Shorty providing more discrete cover, as I got to the next Angle. Nothing to do here, visible brain matter and no pulse or spontaneous respirations. We could hear moans and cries from inside the building.
Boomer and I had the most med training and gear so we went in. Mrs. Gravy came in to provide cover while Gravy and Shorty provided outside security. Oh what a hell of a mess. There were 20 or more folks down. Some were face down on the floor, some were holding their own wounds some were attempting to tend to others wounds. We did a scene size up and it was a mess. Serious mass casualty.
“Did anyone call 9-1-1?”
“The polise, dey did dis”
“Why do the polise shoot everyone”
We waded through looking for where to start. Mrs Gravy called on a radio she had to get Gravy to come in and help. He came in, took one look, vomited, turned around and sent Shorty in. I gave Shorty a double handful of DIY pressure dressings, a pair of vinyl gloves from my med ruck and set her to packing wounds.
I found a young black woman holding her open fractured left arm trying to stop the flow of blood. It wasn’t a pumping arterial bleed but it was flowing out heavy and steady. “Hey I’m going to put this on your arm to stop the bleeding ok?” I was holding out one of my RATS tourniquets. “It’s going to be uncomfortable but it will stop the bleeding.”
She didn’t object to me placing the RATS on her arm so I took that as expressed consent to treat.
“Why de pooolize shoot us?”, she wailed. She was sounding mushy and mumbly as she talked, I wondered how much blood she’d lost.
A bellow from the back of the gym / sanctuary. “What are you white devils doing!? Get the eff out of here!”
A huge black man towered over Shorty.
“I’m trying to stop the ble…” she said.
“I said get the eff off you white wench!”
The bellowing giant tried to plant as steel toe boot into her hip. She rolled to the side catching the leg as it passed. She shoved the leg up hard then used her legs to drive upward. The man completely lost his balance. Both legs went into the air and his head cracked hard on the floor.
As he attempted to pull a knife shorty stomped his wrist with her boot breaking it. Before he could thrash more Boomer had him rolled over and placed flex cuffs on both his arms. Shorty swatted Boomers ass as he headed off to another patient.
The national guard captain had his men in a ‘reserve area’. They were a Military Police company who have been deputized and were now technically reserve Sherriff’s deputies , though his men knew which side of the bread was buttered. When one of the county undersheriff’s had come through she had a screaming hissy fit about the M243 machine guns with belt inserted mounted on some Humvees. She ordered all weapons be unloaded. Reasoning that a weapon with an empty chamber was unloaded he ordered full magazines in bolts locked to the rear. A quick smack on the bolt release and they’d be in the fight. He quietly passed word through his NCO’s that if an M9 or two or ten ended up with a round in the chamber he’d not be all that ****ed.
They were in a small unused parking deck maybe 4 blocks from where the riot was going on in earnest. The captain wasn’t sure what his mission was exactly. Given his druthers he’s roll in with half his men in riot gear , backed up by the other half with M4 rifles. Roll in, chuck some pressure bombs, cuff everyone who didn’t run away. But his druthers counted for naught. They had a ‘Rehab area’ set up where police could come and get a break from the action. They also had an aid station set up to care for wounded. Out front was a security element, two well used up armored HumVees. At this point everyone was pretty much ****ting on his butt and screwing around on their phones.
The ‘bored soldier’ noise changed somehow. One of his Staff Sergeants was heading towards the Captain, “Sir you need to see this!”
Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!
The Captains mind just started to form the thought, gunfire when.
Now his mind screamed SAW. What the eff was going on.
His radio crackled
“Contact front, four police with AR15’s.”
“Medics Up! Two men down, Cat 1!”
The Captain and his First Sergeant ran down the ramp to the security post, M9’s in hand. By unspoken agreement the First Sergeant went to the wounded and
“Captain it was four cops they drove up, hopped out of the car opened up on us. They hit Edwards and Meckel. Then jumped in the car and took off. Coats busted loose with the SAW and … “
Medics had rolled Edwards over, DOA , round right under the helmet, visible brain matter. Meckle had a chest wound. He hadn’t bothered to put his ceramic plates in his body armour. The medic sergent said “We need a hospital now!’
Into his radio “Medevac Humveee to me. Lincoln 1 and Lincoln 7 to me for med evac escort.” To the First Sergeant. “Lead in Lincoln 1, if anyone protestors, cops anyone gets in your way run them down, mow them down I don’t care. Nothing delays getting this ambulance to the hospital.”
“Rodger that! Ok people let’s move!”
The Captain called directly to the Adjutant General of the Guard, he’d call his higher as soon as he was done but this what all kinds of effed up.
In the car they were elated. The look on the American soldiers was priceless when their own Police began to shoot at them. One of the brothers was slightly injured by glass from the rear window when the Americans finally shot back. The would make their way to the back of the riot now one of the brothers would take video of ‘police’ shooting unarmed rioters. He’d post it to the internet where it would be cleaned up if needed and then posted and reposted.
Ever since the new President had been elected and her appeal to and praise for social justice warriors Zoe and some friends had formed a social justice cell. They had even gone out and purchased two Mossberg Just In Case shotguns and had even gone out into the sticks and test fired them. She and her sister Urban Studies masters candidate and cell member Shequanda were now enraged. It was time to act and they knew just where. Though they were 600 miles and a time zone away from the rioting. They went to the somewhat seedy all night doughnut shop. One of those places with a neon ‘hot doughnuts’ sign.
Kimberly was excited. It was her last shift with a training officer. “You know it’s tradition to buy your training officer hot doughnuts on the last ride.”
“Is that right?”
“Yup, and coffee and you have to eat one too.”
Kimberly’s passion for healthy diet and fitness earned her some good natured ribbing.
“Oh look the hot doughnuts is on now!”
They pulled in to the more than a little seedy looking shop. Kimberly got out of the car and headed to the door to get coffee and doughnuts for Trey who really was a kick butt training officer.
Zoe stepped from around the side of the building and shot Kimberly in the back of the head from 15 feet with the 12 ga shotgun.
Inside the car Trey hit the panic alarm and called into his radio “Shots fired , officer down!”
He stepped out of the car Sig in both hands.
Dressed head to toe in back with the SJW red bandanna around her neck Shequanda stepped around the other corner of the building intending to mimic Zoe. Shequanda had forgotten to take the safety off the shotgun. Trey put two 9 mm rounds into her chest, dumping her head to the ground.
Zoe fired but jerked most of the shot going into Trey’s vest but some ripping into his arm. Tray fell to the ground next to his squad. Zoe ran towards the car intending to finish the officer and check on Shequanda.
Looking under the car Trey shot Zoe in the ankle from about 10 feet away, dumping her on the ground. He then shot her in the head
The world went downhill quite quickly. Videos of “police” firing on civilians were popping up all over the internet. Jehadi / faux police groups were both attacking protestors at the back end of the riot , which was videoed and sent to the internet via Ryiad Saudia Arabia. The Jehadi / faux police were also attacking the rear and flanks of police involved in riot control. These attacks were not videotaped but were causing chaos in the riot command post.
Inside to two hours the police lost control of the situation. The National Guard was spoiling for a fight after being attack. The Adjutant General ordered two more Companies to the riot and sent a full Colonel to take charge. Seeing the police in a full rout the Colonel ordered his forces in. Men with shields, clubs and flex cuffs were backed up by men with shotguns and less lethal bean bag and pepper ball rounds who were backed up by men with M-4 carbines and M-249 SAWS. Those who ran were allowed to run. Those who stood their ground were beaten down and cuffed. Those who threw things were treated more harshly , the lucky ones got shot with bean bags or pepper balls. The less lucky or anyone seen lighting anything got shot with M-4’s.
The fake police attempted to move deeper into the neighborhood when they hit a wall. Charles Washington and his ‘off the reservation ‘ Armed Guardian Angels had taken to the streets. The Angles had set up barricades at the streets into their ‘hoods’. They allowed residents past and kept outsiders out. Seeing armed Angles the run of the mill gangsters decided to lay low for a while, a few even offered to lend a hand. A few fake police jehadis managed to tangle with the Angles who were quite adept at identifying the local police. They spotted and quickly ventilated the invaders.
By dawn the riot and jehadis had been put down. But across the country things were not so good.
In a way in was a perfect storm. The new president had fired up her Social Justice Warriors and Black Lives Matter troops to a fever pitch during the campaign and during the period before her inauguration. It had occurred to them that physical confrontation with police might be needed and to do this guns might be needed and madam President even seemed to be encouraging it.
These were digital age people and being digital people some started viewing online gun videos. They were often quite autodidactic , thus able to teach themselves. They watched videos and purchased firearms. Many bought the cheapest they could find, like high point pistols and Mossberg AR15ish looking .22 rifles. In short these bought junk. A very few went way high end spending thousands on gear suitable for use by Tier One SpecOps warriors. Most bought stuff in the serviceable but affordable end of things. Some tried to take their new toys to gun ranges and were sneered at by range regulars and made to feel quite unwelcome, reinforcing preconceived notions about the right. Other were surprised at the warm welcomes they received , of these many drifted away from the SJW and BLM movements.
Those with less than warm welcomes tended to watch a lot of You Tube videos and ‘train’ in the country, often trespassing on private lands or just shooting on public land when it was available. Some really hard core went under cover and attended actual training classes. Oddly many of these moved tended to move out of the SJW/BLM matters after meeting folks in the training community.
As the videos spread so did attacks on police. There had been sporadic attacks on police in the past those had come and go over days and weeks . These flared up in hours. Many of the attacks were ham handed , amateur affairs with a few shots fired and the attackers fleeing into the night. Sadly some were successful. There were attacks from muslim sleeper cells, there were attacks from lone wolfs, there were attacks from known wolves , there were attacks from organized black lives matter cells and from ad hoc black lives matter cell and from disorganized black lives matter cells. A few clansmen joined the fun attacking black police officers. The technical term was a goat rape.
Attacks started in the evening and went through the night. Police pulled back into defensive posture, placing two officers in a car or patrolling two cars in teams Sometimes they patrolled in two cars with two officers per car. This reduced police coverage to half or even a quarter of what it was before. It took no time for basic criminals to note and take advantage of the change. True evil doers weren’t far behind.
The ‘Network’ operators began to operate. They got in touch with reliable, not nuts contacts they had with militia units. These set up discrete patrols. They discretely made contact with local LEO’s – a sort of neighborhood watch on steroids.
It wasn’t perfect. A few men thought they’d help by discretely and unknown to the officers riding ‘shotgun’. The officers took note of the tail and lead them into an ambush arrest – nobody got shot but everyone darn near ended up with poopy drawers. But overall places where the Network had a presence fared better than where it did not.
Other ‘technical assets’ of the Network were able to make a video illustrating the fake. Contacts at Fox news broke the story while other Network folks spammed the heck out of social media. It took the better part of a week to settle out In some places. In the end over 40 police officers were killed and tension was sky high in places. Armed neighborhood watches were forming all over the place. Veterans were stepping up to organize and lead. The President attempted a couple executive orders banning guns, halting sales and revoking carry permits. In most places the country was having none of it.
In Idaho the Col sat in his chair with three fingers of Pussers Navy Rum. He made notes, what worked and what didn’t. Still a lot of work to do …