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Tactical Guy
The Tactical Guy
> >
> > As I was leaving my house I stuffed my Glock 10mm "man's gun"
> > Mexican-style in my pants. My backup is a fully customized 1911 with
> > all the IPSC add-on options in my $500 leather pancake holster custom
> > made by Belgian Monks who have devoted their lives to silence and
> > holster making. These are the ones used by SEAL Team 6, which I used
> > to be a part of but all records of my activities were destroyed in a
> > fire "accident".
> >
> > I put on my Royal Robbins photographer's vest to match my pants, while
> > underneath wearing a t-shirt reading "...from my cold dead hands."
> > That way nobody can see what I'm packing.
> >
> > I had my S&W Centennial .38 Special in my ankle holster, just like the
> > gun-rag guys carry.
> >
> > Lastly I had my "Covert Sniper" I.D. Card in my wallet with my
> > "Concealed Weapons Permit Badge". I was ready for anything.
> >
> > I drove my Bug-Out Truck to the 7-11 for some beer, cause you never
> > know. It is a performance-styled Subaru BRAT with 4 cylinders of
> > ground pounding fury.
> >
> > I pull up to the 7-11 store and notice a nefarious looking girl scout
> > eyeballing me from the back of her mother's SUV. A likely cover.
> >
> > The mother returned to the truck and went for the keys in her purse,
> > but years of combat-honed instincts told me that she was actually
> > making a furtive movement for an offensive weapon.
> >
> > I attempted a tactical shoulder roll, but fell flat on my face, kind
> > of flopping on the pavement to avoid any incoming rounds and to make
> > it look like I meant to do that. The store owner called 9-1-1 which is
> > good, because I then did a roll and attempted to draw my Glock.
> >
> > Unfortunately, since I did not have a holster, the gun "went off" and
> > the bullet creased my wiener. But I was prepared for that and bit down
> > on a 9mm casing to take my mind off the pain as I dove for the garbage
> > barrel. That's when I noticed the girl scout shouting something to her
> > mother who began to take cover. I knew they were closing on me so I
> > drew my trusty, custom Wilson Combat 1911....I knew that they would be
> > impressed with that. I then duck-walked to the front of her SUV but my
> > gut kinda got in the way and I fell on my ass, which caused me to
> > swallow my 9mm casing.
> >
> > I then tried to roll to my right, but didn't want to scuff my holster
> > so I just threw myself into a telephone pole, but I landed on my right
> > side anyway. So I fired one shot towards the woman's SUV to pin them
> > down as I recovered my wind.
> >
> > And before the mother knew what was happening, I charged her and threw
> > my groin into her knee. I knew as I vomited on the ground in front of
> > her that I had interrupted her OODA loop; I had the advantage now. As
> > she ran screaming for the girl scout (I knew she was going for backup)
> > I made for my Supercharged BRAT tactical truck. I jumped into the
> > driver seat forgetting that I had left my rare, Israeli contract AR-15
> > bayonet, honed to a razors edge, on the seat. I could handle it
> > though; half my ass is an implant from war wounds. As I attempted to
> > start my truck, police and paramedics arrived on the scene. My truck
> > would not start and instead backfired once and caused the police to
> > tase me. At which point I tactically soiled myself while in
> > convulsions. My custom 1911 then fell out the window but I still had
> > my Centennial .38. I knew that I had to take out the woman with the
> > purse.
> >
> > So I aimed my revolver at her at which point the first police officer
> > fired once striking me in the chest. Fortunately I was wearing my
> > level 3A body armor. I didn't want to hurt the cops, they had
> > obviously been duped by the evil temptress who was now embracing her
> > partner in crime and crying to the police in the background. I knew it
> > was a ruse.
> >
> > I pulled out my concealed weapons permit badge and showed it to the
> > officer who shot me and yelled out "I'm one of you guys". He
> > continued to cover me and ordered me to drop my .38 so I laid it down.
> > After all, I still had my bayonet attached to my ass. The cop walked
> > toward me and upon reading the badge maced me right in the eyes.
> > Fortunately my Oakley shooting glasses stopped most of the spray and I
> > was able to rip free of the Taser cords easily; it only cost me one
> > nipple, easily replaced. I dove for the passenger side of my truck and
> > began to run zig-zag for a ditch. Unfortunately the bayonet sticking
> > out of my ass slowed me down. I knew it would have to be hand-to-hand
> > now.
> > I knew the cop couldn't take me when I saw he only carried a Glock 17,
> > not a man's gun. So I immediately threw my eye into his right hook,
> > followed by a knee into his Mag-Light. As I lay thrashing on the
> > ground I kicked at the cop's ankle with the heel of my Bates enforcer
> > boot. I knew from my classified experiences in Tajikistan that once
> > breaking the ankle, the cop would fall down and I could "stun kick"
> > him in the head, knocking him out but not hurting him.
> >
> > Apparently the cop had also been to Tajikistan because he side-stepped
> > me and struck me in the back with his ASP baton, but my trauma plate
> > absorbed it. I then drew my Benchmade auto knife and was promptly
> > tased again, but I was ready for it this time and only wet myself a
> > little bit.
> >
> > Next thing those cops knew I was unconscious. That'll teach 'em.
__________________
E7-CW3-direct commission VN
B model gunship pilot 65-66 Soc Trang, Cobra Pilot 68-69-70 Can Tho Life member 101st Airborne Association
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