PitViper
02-16-2011, 10:32 PM
South Bronx, New York.
Thurs evening, 10 PM.
"Frank I can't get an exact read on the this thing, we definitly have a sign of life but I can't pin point where it's comming from exactly"
"Good thing for you Micro. I mean if I didn't have you and all this bullshit equipment to tell me there's someone else in here but no idea where, I mean I don't know what I'd do."
"Is that sarcasm I hear? On the job? Wow."
"I wasn't being sarcastic, I'm shutting the com down and gonna snoop around a bit on my own, stand by"
An abandon warehouse in the arm pit of New York.
This rusted out shit hole being right on the water, the Hudson makes a good escape to wherever these small cargo boats have been bringing these crates. I mean I could be dead wrong here but when you've been in my line of work for as long as I have, gut feelings usually mean something.
This place operates well after sun down and the guys loading and unloading are fast. They come by boat and leave the same way. Surveilance cameras along the river we put up came in handy. On the other hand I can't zoom in for shit, had to come take a look for myself and here I am.
It's not a raid, so I'm not at full strength. I take what I need tonight. Twin Springfield 1911's with red dot and an MP5 lit and scoped. The rest is the usual, flash light, bowie knife a few frags and this stupid blue tooth hooked up to Micro.
We know there is "life" in here, I assume it's a bad guy. I wouldn't be who I am if I didn't. However it could very well be a dog or anything else for that matter. Play it safe and move silently.
The LED flash light cuts through the darkness like a knife. Letting me see but also giving me away. MP5 stays shouldered with a 1911 in my other hand.
Light on the concrete ground reveals only newspaper and old rusty chains strewn about. Some parts too...they look like old Hyster forklift parts. Nothing.
Place stinks to high Hell of mildew, mixed with grease and the Hudson. Still nothing. Time to head down the hall.
I keep both the flash light and the Springfield at chest level and move as quiet as I can down the hall way. I can hear the squeel of rats. They werent the sign of life. Micro's gear wouldnt pick anything up that small from that far away.
Now I hear it, sounds like some rummaging down the hall.
Footsteps confined to a small area. Pacing? Walking around something. Stay focused, the further I get down the hall I see a doorway on the right side with a dim light comming through it.
Steps away, it sounds like someone flipping through paper, thick paper and walking around. Getting closer.
I'm outside the door. Flash light off. Show time.
1-2-3!!
In one fluid motion I stand in the doorway and put 2 red dots on the chest of the guy in front of me. This is a shock.
"Freeze! Breathe funny and I'll kill ya. Hand's up on your head nice and slow"
A Cobra Officer, 1 lousy blue shirt in the whole place in front of a open crate flipping through blue prints.
"Well, you boys getting a little brazen nowadays huh? I mean Ft Wadsworth isn't all that far away. Ya got balls I'll give ya that. Insight time. You talk and I'll hold off on killing you."
"Frank! stop it's me"
"Me?"
"Damnit Frank it's me Phil!"
"Take the shit off your head and face nice and slow"
The blue shirt takes off his helmet and tosses it in the box, next comes the bacalva.
"It's me Frank"
I uncock my pistols and holster them.
"Jesus f'ing Christ Phil, what the fuck are you doing here?"
"Uh I think the question is what the fuck are you doing here!"
"Let's see. South Bronx, shady warehouse, bad guys shipping stuff out of it...I mean this is kind of what I do."
"Good answer. Frank you should leave."
"Funny I was gonna ask you the same thing."
"This is Joe stuff Frank you have no business being here."
"Man if I had a nickel everytime I heard that, speaking of Joe stuff, where's the rest of the get along gang? You're here alone. Why?"
"Just go Frank"
"Because they don't know do they!"
I had to smile when I said it because I knew I had him on the spot, for being so damn good at what he does he was showing just how uncomfortable he was here. I know it's because it was personal with me and all.
"Ya know Frank, if I hit one button I get back up. Probably'll come in the way of a guy in all black, real good with sharp things, doesnt talk..ring a bell?"
"That's a good one. The only problem with that is I have a guy like that whose probably pissed he lost me. Wears all red, real good with his hands, can't see a thing, similar right? See Phil we can do this all night or you can just tell me whats going on here. Trust me it'll be easier on your end if I don't have to find out myself."
"Cobra has been storing B.A.T. parts here for years. I come here now and again to make sure stuff is the way it's always been. Lately...as you can see, there has been some activity. Taking crates of select parts every other night. Someone left the blue prints here for a B.A.T. What raises an eye brow is that these blue prints don't match up to what we've seen on the battlefield. Cobra is building something different and with the addition to their Alley Vipers I'm affraid these things could go the way of the urban jungle as well"
"My turf"
"Wrong, Joe stuff"
"Now that was a good one"
"Frank, now you know, just go. If they know I was hanging around with the Godamned Punisher I'm gonna get more than an earful. If they know I was giving away what they pay me to learn to you...I'm a dead man."
"They won't know"
"Frank if they show up now or even have an idea that I was with you I gotta help take you in, because you know that's whats gonna do down."
"Good luck with that one"
"Damnit Frank, I'm asking you as a friend, you owe me! Just go!"
"Look Chuckles, this is my turf and you know damn well I'm not gonna negotiate over--"
"Down now!"
"Boat, comming in I hear it."
"I'll handle it, stay low...and don't kill anyone!"
That deserves the half assed smirk I gave him before climbing into the open crate up against the wall and putting the lid in front of it.
I put the bacalva on and my helmet, composed myself and continued to thumb through the blue prints.
Boat getting closer. Shit, they haven't come on a Thursday in 3 months. Damnit.
I hear the rear bay door creep open and I whisper. "Remember Frank, no talking, no killing, I'll handle it!"
"Mmm hmm."
Foot steps comming closer. Time to do what I do best.
"Foot steps comming closer. Let Chuckles do his thing, then do what I do best."
To Be Continued...
Thurs evening, 10 PM.
"Frank I can't get an exact read on the this thing, we definitly have a sign of life but I can't pin point where it's comming from exactly"
"Good thing for you Micro. I mean if I didn't have you and all this bullshit equipment to tell me there's someone else in here but no idea where, I mean I don't know what I'd do."
"Is that sarcasm I hear? On the job? Wow."
"I wasn't being sarcastic, I'm shutting the com down and gonna snoop around a bit on my own, stand by"
An abandon warehouse in the arm pit of New York.
This rusted out shit hole being right on the water, the Hudson makes a good escape to wherever these small cargo boats have been bringing these crates. I mean I could be dead wrong here but when you've been in my line of work for as long as I have, gut feelings usually mean something.
This place operates well after sun down and the guys loading and unloading are fast. They come by boat and leave the same way. Surveilance cameras along the river we put up came in handy. On the other hand I can't zoom in for shit, had to come take a look for myself and here I am.
It's not a raid, so I'm not at full strength. I take what I need tonight. Twin Springfield 1911's with red dot and an MP5 lit and scoped. The rest is the usual, flash light, bowie knife a few frags and this stupid blue tooth hooked up to Micro.
We know there is "life" in here, I assume it's a bad guy. I wouldn't be who I am if I didn't. However it could very well be a dog or anything else for that matter. Play it safe and move silently.
The LED flash light cuts through the darkness like a knife. Letting me see but also giving me away. MP5 stays shouldered with a 1911 in my other hand.
Light on the concrete ground reveals only newspaper and old rusty chains strewn about. Some parts too...they look like old Hyster forklift parts. Nothing.
Place stinks to high Hell of mildew, mixed with grease and the Hudson. Still nothing. Time to head down the hall.
I keep both the flash light and the Springfield at chest level and move as quiet as I can down the hall way. I can hear the squeel of rats. They werent the sign of life. Micro's gear wouldnt pick anything up that small from that far away.
Now I hear it, sounds like some rummaging down the hall.
Footsteps confined to a small area. Pacing? Walking around something. Stay focused, the further I get down the hall I see a doorway on the right side with a dim light comming through it.
Steps away, it sounds like someone flipping through paper, thick paper and walking around. Getting closer.
I'm outside the door. Flash light off. Show time.
1-2-3!!
In one fluid motion I stand in the doorway and put 2 red dots on the chest of the guy in front of me. This is a shock.
"Freeze! Breathe funny and I'll kill ya. Hand's up on your head nice and slow"
A Cobra Officer, 1 lousy blue shirt in the whole place in front of a open crate flipping through blue prints.
"Well, you boys getting a little brazen nowadays huh? I mean Ft Wadsworth isn't all that far away. Ya got balls I'll give ya that. Insight time. You talk and I'll hold off on killing you."
"Frank! stop it's me"
"Me?"
"Damnit Frank it's me Phil!"
"Take the shit off your head and face nice and slow"
The blue shirt takes off his helmet and tosses it in the box, next comes the bacalva.
"It's me Frank"
I uncock my pistols and holster them.
"Jesus f'ing Christ Phil, what the fuck are you doing here?"
"Uh I think the question is what the fuck are you doing here!"
"Let's see. South Bronx, shady warehouse, bad guys shipping stuff out of it...I mean this is kind of what I do."
"Good answer. Frank you should leave."
"Funny I was gonna ask you the same thing."
"This is Joe stuff Frank you have no business being here."
"Man if I had a nickel everytime I heard that, speaking of Joe stuff, where's the rest of the get along gang? You're here alone. Why?"
"Just go Frank"
"Because they don't know do they!"
I had to smile when I said it because I knew I had him on the spot, for being so damn good at what he does he was showing just how uncomfortable he was here. I know it's because it was personal with me and all.
"Ya know Frank, if I hit one button I get back up. Probably'll come in the way of a guy in all black, real good with sharp things, doesnt talk..ring a bell?"
"That's a good one. The only problem with that is I have a guy like that whose probably pissed he lost me. Wears all red, real good with his hands, can't see a thing, similar right? See Phil we can do this all night or you can just tell me whats going on here. Trust me it'll be easier on your end if I don't have to find out myself."
"Cobra has been storing B.A.T. parts here for years. I come here now and again to make sure stuff is the way it's always been. Lately...as you can see, there has been some activity. Taking crates of select parts every other night. Someone left the blue prints here for a B.A.T. What raises an eye brow is that these blue prints don't match up to what we've seen on the battlefield. Cobra is building something different and with the addition to their Alley Vipers I'm affraid these things could go the way of the urban jungle as well"
"My turf"
"Wrong, Joe stuff"
"Now that was a good one"
"Frank, now you know, just go. If they know I was hanging around with the Godamned Punisher I'm gonna get more than an earful. If they know I was giving away what they pay me to learn to you...I'm a dead man."
"They won't know"
"Frank if they show up now or even have an idea that I was with you I gotta help take you in, because you know that's whats gonna do down."
"Good luck with that one"
"Damnit Frank, I'm asking you as a friend, you owe me! Just go!"
"Look Chuckles, this is my turf and you know damn well I'm not gonna negotiate over--"
"Down now!"
"Boat, comming in I hear it."
"I'll handle it, stay low...and don't kill anyone!"
That deserves the half assed smirk I gave him before climbing into the open crate up against the wall and putting the lid in front of it.
I put the bacalva on and my helmet, composed myself and continued to thumb through the blue prints.
Boat getting closer. Shit, they haven't come on a Thursday in 3 months. Damnit.
I hear the rear bay door creep open and I whisper. "Remember Frank, no talking, no killing, I'll handle it!"
"Mmm hmm."
Foot steps comming closer. Time to do what I do best.
"Foot steps comming closer. Let Chuckles do his thing, then do what I do best."
To Be Continued...