Well, hell … so far so good. Damn I love this kinda work, the kind that takes more balls than brains. So basically we just up and attacked real direct-like about two dozen of these folks what call themselves “The Police.” I’ll be damned if Sting ain’t rollin in his Tantric grave at the thought of these losers usin’ his band’s name. Not that I’d ever tell Dad that I used to listen to them; he always felt funny when I talked about music he liked that I heard on the classics channel. So anyway, me and the jarhead sniper (he may be salvagable yet) set up on a building to the south of the Police while the chief (some crazy EOD bastard) and the medic (yeah, you heard me, the medic) closed with the enemy position. We had ourselves a nice setup, though I should have put myself a bit closer, my ears is still ringin’ from that damned Barrett. Speaking of which, both of us must be rusty, we spend the whole dang time blowing off hands and feet, for cryin out loud.
Anyway, we shot the shit out of em for a spell, and the chief decided to stand too close to a grenade and got singed a bit. The bastards got tired of losin’ hands and feet and the ones what weren’t shot or dead high tailed it inside the warehouse. Which we promptly charged into, to save some idiot hostages that were NOT part of our mission profile (worked out though, more on that later). Anyway, after a particularly poor entry strategy (balls > brains, remember) we pretty much ended the police prescence in that precinct. Turns out the hostages were some not entirely useless ex-US forces, the former garrison. We got them all free and what not then the led us over to their command post, we I got a few hours sleep, and a chance to SSS (shit, shower, and shave).
Tommorow, I think I’m gonna take the jarhead with me for some “recon” at the local brothel. We’ll see what we can see. Maybe I can scrounge me up an M40 from these local yokels.