I did another hit earlier this week. This might be my last one with a gun. Why? Here's my two biggest reasons:
- With 2 high profile hits, my target audience will definitely be taking steps to be less vulnerable. I see now why IEDs are so popular in Iraq.
- Getting a rifle in and especially out of the area will become more difficult and risky. Sure I could just ditch the gun right after the hit but this is a pretty significant piece of physical evidence to leave behind. Even if I kept the gun free of fingerprints or DNA, the police could get lucky. Heck, if "ice" bullets worked, I'd use them.
Anyway, enough about my personal problems. Let me tell you about job #2. He was another big financial cheese. I had to do a bit of discrete financial snooping to learn the name of his real estate trust. Once I had that, it was easy to look up the address of his country estate in the County Tax Assessor records. Then I did some due diligence, drove some of the routes from his office to his house and did some stakeouts.
I don't know if his people started mixing up his travel routes after my first hit or if they were on the ball before that. Alas, while that sounds good in theory, if the actual lay of the land locks you into fairly fixed routes, especially near the office or home, mixing it up between doesn't really do that much good. For this guy, his bucolic country isolation was fatal and I'm not even talking about that close to home.
About a half mile from his house there was a T-junction at the top of a gentle slope. There was also a drainage culvert on the right side of the road leading to the T. I figured I could lay in wait in the ditch then when his limo came to a stop at the T, I'd take my shot. With the low angle, I figure I could take out the rear differential on the limo, then the gas tank and burn him out or up. I'd take the chance that his limo wasn't all wheel drive, had a self sealing gas tank or an armored differential cover.
Back at his office building, the really helpful bit was a coffee shop right across the street from the underground parking garage ramp. But I'm getting slightly ahead of myself. After I located his country house, I hiked out every morning for a week, really freaking early, like 4 AM, and went into concealment about 200 yards down the road from his main gate. Well every morning between 5:45 and 6:15 the *same* limo came to pick him up.
Hey kudos for not being at the same time every day but a 30 minute variation window isn't a big deal when there's so much concealment available. I stuck around for another couple of hours to make sure it wasn't a decoy vehicle. Of course the windows were heavily tinted so I couldn't confirm if he really was in the vehicle or not. So yes, unless I could come up with a way to confirm he was in there, I'd be running the chance of taking down an empty vehicle.
While I am not an expert on armored limos, this one appeared to have laminated "bullet proof" glass, but it didn't seem to have the super thick (~ 40mm) rifle resistant level of protection. I based this assessment on how the limo moved - body roll, pitch and yaw during acceleration, braking and turns - it just didn't seem that heavy and a first class armor job can almost double the weight of a vehicle. If the job is done right, serious upgrades to the engine, drive train and suspension have to happen. Anyway, this probably meant there also wasn't an elaborate automatic fire suppression system or an environmentally sealed passenger compartment.
Every afternoon, I'd setup at the coffee shop, futz around on my netbook, sip a drink, nibble on a pastry and keep an eye on the parking garage. There was significantly more variation on his quitting times but the key thing that made things easy for me was that it was the same limo every time. And the thing that sealed it for me was the day he was scheduled to make a widely publicized evening appearance out of town. The morning schedule stayed the same but the evening ride home happened a bit after midnight, again with the same limo, so I doubt they were doing empty decoy runs. That was a Zen 7 hours sitting in the forest. Good thing I have a high boredom threshold. After that, I stopped going to the coffee shop and spent several evenings at the T-junction. The driver did a full stop every time and more than half the time, there were no other cars near by.
Honestly, the thing that was weighing most on my mind at that point was what I would do about other people in the limo. If he had coworkers in there, I was okay with taking them out along with him. But I didn't have anything against the chauffeur or bodyguards and ideally, I'd keep family members out of this. What to do, what to do...
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Sunday, January 24, 2010
SHOT Show Technology Transfer
I spent some time at the SHOT Show last week at the Sands Convention Center in Las Vegas. It started off being a "Shooting Hunting Outdoor" show but with 9/11 and all the terrorism concern, a Law Enforcement section has been added. Besides hundreds of firearms and accessory manufacturers, I visited several thermal imaging vendors and one of them, Torrey Pines Logic, had an interesting product called the Mirage 1200. Basically it detects optical lens stacks like in a rifle scope or camera. It's the item at the bottom of this picture. The operater looks in one end, like a telescope, and besides displaying the general lay of the land, a laser beam is emitted and if it reflects off an optical lens stack, that location blinks on the display. The R2D2 looking thing is called a Beam 1000 and it's the permanently mounted version of the Mirage 1200. I wonder if any Hollywood celebrities use these to deal with paparazzi? The Mirage 1200 has a max range of 1200 meters and the Beam 1000, yep, a max range of 1000 meters. The Mirage costs around $40,000.
Here's a fun picture of a sniper rig at the show. They added a cup holder for grins.
Here's a fun picture of a sniper rig at the show. They added a cup holder for grins.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
There's Got to be a Morning After...
I slept well and first thing in the morning I hiked back to the car and headed home without incident. If there were any road blocks they must have been taken down after several hours. I wondered what kind of a search radius or perimeter was used to try and find me? Did it include the parking lot where I left my car? Even if it did and the police recorded all the license plates, I had a decent cover. No worries for now...
What I had done was all over the news. Some called it terrorism or cold blooded murder. Others alluded to Robin Hood or even John Dillinger. How ironic. While I would agree that like Dillinger, I am also a Depression-era criminal, I'd rather surrender or be shot rather than shoot at law enforcement. And I'm not taking the money but shooting at the guys who are.
If anything, I'd go with twisting a line from Candide by Voltaire -- "in this country, it is wise to kill an admiral from time to time to encourage the others." Of course instead of "admiral" I mean captains of the financial industry and "by encourage" I mean "wise up." R.I.P. Admiral Byng.
So what form should my next act of encouragement take?
What I had done was all over the news. Some called it terrorism or cold blooded murder. Others alluded to Robin Hood or even John Dillinger. How ironic. While I would agree that like Dillinger, I am also a Depression-era criminal, I'd rather surrender or be shot rather than shoot at law enforcement. And I'm not taking the money but shooting at the guys who are.
If anything, I'd go with twisting a line from Candide by Voltaire -- "in this country, it is wise to kill an admiral from time to time to encourage the others." Of course instead of "admiral" I mean captains of the financial industry and "by encourage" I mean "wise up." R.I.P. Admiral Byng.
So what form should my next act of encouragement take?
Sunday, January 10, 2010
First Blood - Part 7
Damn, what happened to my air? My thoughts raced over both what caused this and what I should do next?. How could all the air have leaked out that fast without my noticing? With no more air I would have to continue on the surface and if the police weren't checking the water, I'd be okay. Or should I head directly to shore, walk back and hope for no searchers there. I was about a mile and a half to two miles from my pack and hiking gear and another 2 miles to the car. I could walk that in less than 2 hours. It was just about 8 o'clock so I still had lots of time. It would stay dark until at least 4:30 in the morning.
Doh, I'm such an idiot. I wasn't out of air. I just hadn't opened the air valve on the tank. I reached back to turn the valve knob and Mr. Murphy kicked in again with a sharp, vicious cramp in my right shoulder. I put my arm back down and wiggled the shoulder. Damn, it was a bad one. I should have figured this would be likely to happen from being cold and tired. I wiggled out of the BC, opened the valve, then struggled back in. It hurt like hell when I tried to move into position with the dive scooter.
Time for plan B. Definitely nothing fancy. Just back to basics - an energy boosting snack. I pulled off my left glove and then pulled an energy gel packet out of the fanny pack and sucked it down. These normally taste like crap but right now I was like a baby on a teat. It was pretty amazing how quickly I could feel the sugars kicking in. While it took the edge off my shoulder cramp, the muscle was tightly knotted. Still, I could now hold position on the dive scooter. I dumped some air from the BC, ditched the ditch duffle and resumed scootering.
My scooter battery died before I ran out of air. It was almost 9 o'clock and I was about half a mile and half an hour away. I still had plenty of time. I could have crawled to my hiking gear with the time I had left. So it was more a question of what would look more suspicious - me walking on shore in a wet suit and running into someone or being spotted by helicopter snorkeling at night, alone and not using a dive light.
I decided to stay in the water and swim for it. The exercise would warm me up. I unstrapped the fanny pack and then ditched the scooter.
I also figured I'd use up my remaining air now and then ditch the tank and BC and snorkel the rest of the way in. This way the tank and BC would end up in deeper water further from shore. I sucked the second tank dry about 10 minutes later and dumped it and the BC.
I took a break and had another energy gel. In retrospect I should have slurped one of these about half an hour after I hit the water. With more energy, I might not have forgotten to open the air valve and avoided the cramp. Bah. Coulda Woulda Shoulda. I made it to shore at 10:23. It was dead quiet all around. Nothing on shore and I didn't see anything in the air. I swam back out a couple of hundred feet and ditched my diving mask then came ashore.
I circled around to my shore gear and everything still looked clear. I hunkered down by my pack, pulled out some energy bars and ate them.
I pulled off my hood, rinsed off my face, toweled off and put on a hat. Then I jogged in place to build up some body heat. If I wasn't such a wuss about the cold, I would have changed out of the wetsuit right away and become the weekend hiker. I finally stopped fooling around and squirmed out of the wet suit and into dry clothes. I still had an extend session of the deep shivers and sure enough several days later I would be sick in bed with a head cold.
My next task was to dispose of the wetsuit and fins. I couldn't just throw them in the ocean. The wet suit was too buoyant and while the fins would sink, with all that surface area I could see them getting pushed ashore eventually. I considered burying them, and even coming back weeks later to recover them (I told you I'm a cheap bastard) but I decided to ditch the fins in the water but burn the wetsuit. The tradeoffs never end - do this or that - which branch of the decision tree would lower the odds of my coming under suspicion or leaving traceable evidence?
If a dive mask or swim fins washes up on shore, hey somebody must have dropped them or they fell off a boat -- that happens. But an entire wetsuit floating ashore, that's kind of odd. It also gives a fairly good size of the owner and perhaps even some DNA. And how odd is it if someone finds a wetsuit buried in the ground? How accidental is that? That can't be accidental. It's a sure sign someone was trying to hiding something.
So I sliced up the wetsuit, put the bits in a trash bag, then gathered some driftwood and built a campfire. Yeah, the fire gives away my position, but I'm just an innocent camper who got cold and has nothing to hide. Fortunately there was a gentle breeze blowing out to sea so no one on shore would smell burnt rubber. About 45 minutes later almost everything was gone. I just needed to pick out the metal remnants when the fire cooled off. I ate some more food, real food, and I was ready go to sleep. I hadn't dwelled very much on today's events while I was in the water but my thoughts would catch up with me while I slept and over the next few days. And I wasn't sure how it would ultimately settle and what I would do next...
Doh, I'm such an idiot. I wasn't out of air. I just hadn't opened the air valve on the tank. I reached back to turn the valve knob and Mr. Murphy kicked in again with a sharp, vicious cramp in my right shoulder. I put my arm back down and wiggled the shoulder. Damn, it was a bad one. I should have figured this would be likely to happen from being cold and tired. I wiggled out of the BC, opened the valve, then struggled back in. It hurt like hell when I tried to move into position with the dive scooter.
Time for plan B. Definitely nothing fancy. Just back to basics - an energy boosting snack. I pulled off my left glove and then pulled an energy gel packet out of the fanny pack and sucked it down. These normally taste like crap but right now I was like a baby on a teat. It was pretty amazing how quickly I could feel the sugars kicking in. While it took the edge off my shoulder cramp, the muscle was tightly knotted. Still, I could now hold position on the dive scooter. I dumped some air from the BC, ditched the ditch duffle and resumed scootering.
My scooter battery died before I ran out of air. It was almost 9 o'clock and I was about half a mile and half an hour away. I still had plenty of time. I could have crawled to my hiking gear with the time I had left. So it was more a question of what would look more suspicious - me walking on shore in a wet suit and running into someone or being spotted by helicopter snorkeling at night, alone and not using a dive light.
I decided to stay in the water and swim for it. The exercise would warm me up. I unstrapped the fanny pack and then ditched the scooter.
I also figured I'd use up my remaining air now and then ditch the tank and BC and snorkel the rest of the way in. This way the tank and BC would end up in deeper water further from shore. I sucked the second tank dry about 10 minutes later and dumped it and the BC.
I took a break and had another energy gel. In retrospect I should have slurped one of these about half an hour after I hit the water. With more energy, I might not have forgotten to open the air valve and avoided the cramp. Bah. Coulda Woulda Shoulda. I made it to shore at 10:23. It was dead quiet all around. Nothing on shore and I didn't see anything in the air. I swam back out a couple of hundred feet and ditched my diving mask then came ashore.
I circled around to my shore gear and everything still looked clear. I hunkered down by my pack, pulled out some energy bars and ate them.
I pulled off my hood, rinsed off my face, toweled off and put on a hat. Then I jogged in place to build up some body heat. If I wasn't such a wuss about the cold, I would have changed out of the wetsuit right away and become the weekend hiker. I finally stopped fooling around and squirmed out of the wet suit and into dry clothes. I still had an extend session of the deep shivers and sure enough several days later I would be sick in bed with a head cold.
My next task was to dispose of the wetsuit and fins. I couldn't just throw them in the ocean. The wet suit was too buoyant and while the fins would sink, with all that surface area I could see them getting pushed ashore eventually. I considered burying them, and even coming back weeks later to recover them (I told you I'm a cheap bastard) but I decided to ditch the fins in the water but burn the wetsuit. The tradeoffs never end - do this or that - which branch of the decision tree would lower the odds of my coming under suspicion or leaving traceable evidence?
If a dive mask or swim fins washes up on shore, hey somebody must have dropped them or they fell off a boat -- that happens. But an entire wetsuit floating ashore, that's kind of odd. It also gives a fairly good size of the owner and perhaps even some DNA. And how odd is it if someone finds a wetsuit buried in the ground? How accidental is that? That can't be accidental. It's a sure sign someone was trying to hiding something.
So I sliced up the wetsuit, put the bits in a trash bag, then gathered some driftwood and built a campfire. Yeah, the fire gives away my position, but I'm just an innocent camper who got cold and has nothing to hide. Fortunately there was a gentle breeze blowing out to sea so no one on shore would smell burnt rubber. About 45 minutes later almost everything was gone. I just needed to pick out the metal remnants when the fire cooled off. I ate some more food, real food, and I was ready go to sleep. I hadn't dwelled very much on today's events while I was in the water but my thoughts would catch up with me while I slept and over the next few days. And I wasn't sure how it would ultimately settle and what I would do next...
Friday, January 1, 2010
First Blood - Part 6
I reloaded the rifle then gathered the 12 empty shell casings laying on the thin plastic sheet I had laid down, wadded it up and headed back down to the dive gear. I didn't hear or see anyone nearby.
I put the 2 ammo boxes and the cell phone in my SCUBA buoyancy compensator vest pockets. The balled up plastic sheet with empty brass went into my "ditch" duffle and I laid the rifle on top of it for now. I checked the SCUBA tank air pressure, took one breath off the regulator then put the BC vest on and then my face mask. My swim fins were bungeed to the dive scooter and a small fanny pack holding my wetsuit hood and gloves was also strapped on. My car and house key were around my neck on a cord along with a compass and flashlight.
I put the rifle on safe then put it in the "ditch" duffle which also held my second SCUBA tank and zipped it up. My bike was laying on the ground and I hooked the duffle carry grips on the bike handle bars. I moved the dive scooter so the back end was near the bike seat and the front end by the handle bars. Then I stood the bike up while cradling and guiding the dive scooter and this also lifted the ditch duffle off the ground. I took a quick look around then awkwardly pushed the bike down to the rocky beach.
I rolled into the water and stopped when I was chest deep. I looked and listened again -- nothing. I leaned the bike and scooter against me, took off my face mask and put my arm throught the strap. I took the wetsuit hood out of the fanny pack and put it on then put my mask back on followed by the gloves. I picked up the regulator, put it in my mouth and then started walking again. About 30 seconds later I was underwater and finally feeling safe. I kept walking and pushing the bike for another 5 minutes until I was in about 20 feet of water. I pulled the ditch duffle off the handle bars and clipped the grab handle on the end of the duffle onto my BC. I ditched the bike and cell phone, gripped the dive scooter, turned it on and started cruising away on a course of 160 degrees.
I maintained a depth of about 20 feet for 15 minutes then slowly angled up to about 10 feet and turned off the scooter and listened. I didn't hear any boat motors. Now if I was jinxed and truly unlucky, I'd get nailed by either a sailboat on a night sail or come smack center under a helicopter. I turned the scooter back on, angled up to the surface, stuck my head out and checked my position relative to the lights on shore . I was heading pretty much as expected so I submerged again and continued on my original course and speed but a bit shallower at 15 feet. After 30 minutes I surfaced for another position check and a sky scan. All good so damn the torpedoes and full speed ahead.
I had a 90 cubic foot SCUBA tank on my back and another in the duffle that I was cradling with my legs. I needed to go about 3 miles and if I traveled at about 1 knot for 3 hours that should do it. My air consumption would increase as I got cold and tired so I figured I'd just cruise closer to the surface to make the tank last longer. At 45 minutes total, I was about half way through my first tank which was pretty much on plan and it looked like I was about right for distance traveled too. I hope my scooter battery would go the distance. At this point stopped and ditched my rifle. Several minutes later I dumped the 2 ammo boxes.
I emptied the first tank at 80 minutes which was about 10 minutes sooner than I would have liked. To do the tank switch, I clipped the dive scooter tether to my BC, surfaced then puffed enough air into the BC so everything would float if it got away from me.
I shucked off the BC, undid the tank strap and let the tank, regulator and gauge sink away. I pulled the second tank out, slipped it into the BC, secured the strap and wiggled it back on. I put this regulator to my mouth and sucked. Nothing. Crap this regulator was the same as the one I just ditched. I took a look at the air pressure gauge - zero. Mr. Murphy had finally caught up with me...
I put the 2 ammo boxes and the cell phone in my SCUBA buoyancy compensator vest pockets. The balled up plastic sheet with empty brass went into my "ditch" duffle and I laid the rifle on top of it for now. I checked the SCUBA tank air pressure, took one breath off the regulator then put the BC vest on and then my face mask. My swim fins were bungeed to the dive scooter and a small fanny pack holding my wetsuit hood and gloves was also strapped on. My car and house key were around my neck on a cord along with a compass and flashlight.
I put the rifle on safe then put it in the "ditch" duffle which also held my second SCUBA tank and zipped it up. My bike was laying on the ground and I hooked the duffle carry grips on the bike handle bars. I moved the dive scooter so the back end was near the bike seat and the front end by the handle bars. Then I stood the bike up while cradling and guiding the dive scooter and this also lifted the ditch duffle off the ground. I took a quick look around then awkwardly pushed the bike down to the rocky beach.
I rolled into the water and stopped when I was chest deep. I looked and listened again -- nothing. I leaned the bike and scooter against me, took off my face mask and put my arm throught the strap. I took the wetsuit hood out of the fanny pack and put it on then put my mask back on followed by the gloves. I picked up the regulator, put it in my mouth and then started walking again. About 30 seconds later I was underwater and finally feeling safe. I kept walking and pushing the bike for another 5 minutes until I was in about 20 feet of water. I pulled the ditch duffle off the handle bars and clipped the grab handle on the end of the duffle onto my BC. I ditched the bike and cell phone, gripped the dive scooter, turned it on and started cruising away on a course of 160 degrees.
I maintained a depth of about 20 feet for 15 minutes then slowly angled up to about 10 feet and turned off the scooter and listened. I didn't hear any boat motors. Now if I was jinxed and truly unlucky, I'd get nailed by either a sailboat on a night sail or come smack center under a helicopter. I turned the scooter back on, angled up to the surface, stuck my head out and checked my position relative to the lights on shore . I was heading pretty much as expected so I submerged again and continued on my original course and speed but a bit shallower at 15 feet. After 30 minutes I surfaced for another position check and a sky scan. All good so damn the torpedoes and full speed ahead.
I had a 90 cubic foot SCUBA tank on my back and another in the duffle that I was cradling with my legs. I needed to go about 3 miles and if I traveled at about 1 knot for 3 hours that should do it. My air consumption would increase as I got cold and tired so I figured I'd just cruise closer to the surface to make the tank last longer. At 45 minutes total, I was about half way through my first tank which was pretty much on plan and it looked like I was about right for distance traveled too. I hope my scooter battery would go the distance. At this point stopped and ditched my rifle. Several minutes later I dumped the 2 ammo boxes.
I emptied the first tank at 80 minutes which was about 10 minutes sooner than I would have liked. To do the tank switch, I clipped the dive scooter tether to my BC, surfaced then puffed enough air into the BC so everything would float if it got away from me.
I shucked off the BC, undid the tank strap and let the tank, regulator and gauge sink away. I pulled the second tank out, slipped it into the BC, secured the strap and wiggled it back on. I put this regulator to my mouth and sucked. Nothing. Crap this regulator was the same as the one I just ditched. I took a look at the air pressure gauge - zero. Mr. Murphy had finally caught up with me...
Sunday, December 27, 2009
First Blood - Part 5
While I was waiting for the call to complete and trigger the fireworks, I ran through my shooting sequence. I figured I would do 2 shots on target #1 then go after targets 2 -6 and then play it by ear for the remainder of my 60 second shooting window.
Well I'm proud to say that the "fireworks phone" functioned as desired. The Roman candles fired off in sequence and as expected, the party goers all stopped what they were doing and turned to watch the fireworks. Just as the 3rd Roman candle launched I fired my first shot at Mr. Big, the party host. I got him "body, center of mass" and saw a dark wet patch wink open on the chest of his white suit as he began to collapse onto his well manicured lawn. I pulled the rifle bolt back, ejected the empty casing and then put the bolt forward to chamber a fresh round. Even though I was fairly sure my first shot was fatal, I wanted him to be made an example and shot him again in the torso.
A couple of people near him had just noticed something was not right and were moving toward him as the last Roman candle went off. Target #4, dressed as a pirate, was one of these people. I shot him, in the upper chest just as he started bending down to help and as the fire crackers started going off. This time the other people nearby could tell he had been shot. From their body language some of them were reacting and maybe even screaming in horror. My element of surprise would soon be gone.
I panned over to Target #2 who was dressed as a Prince. He didn't know anything was wrong yet so I quickly took my shot and dropped him. Those were my first 4 shots and now I had to reload. I pulled the bolt back, pressed in 4 rounds and then closed the bolt. I put my eye back up on the scope, picked up Target #3, a Viking, snapped off the shot and then moved on my next 2 targets, the Star Trek twins. They weren't near any of my earlier targets and so didn't realize anything was amiss. I shot twice and didn't miss. The string of fire crackers was ending and I used my last round on the propane tank of one of the portable heaters and started reloading again - 4 more rounds. The propane tank didn't instantly blow up like in the movies but the venting gas did spin the entire heater around and there was an impressive tongue of flame when the propane flume reached a neighboring heater.
Of course now everybody knew something bad was happening but many still didn't know exactly how and were mostly looking around confused rather than running for cover. I zeroed in on the guy dressed as a bundle of cash and shot the wad in the ass. Remember I wasn't sure exactly who this guy was so I wasn't shooting to kill. He was in a cluster of people and many of them could tell he had just been shot. He very well may have shouted out this fact as he fell. They started running away and screaming and like a flock of birds shifting in formation, I could see the reaction ripple through the party crowd. The guy wearing the wooden barrel and body stocking wasn't able to run very fast and he was an easy shot. I opened up another bung hole in the barrel by his butt. He went down and the barrel rolled him into the bushes.
Things were pretty jumbled now and I had to pan about to find another target. The Money Tree guy was huddled down by an ice sculpture of a large swan. I wasn't sure if this was a good or dumb move on his part. His branches still stuck up fairly high with some brightly colored decorations so it's not like they were providing brilliant camouflage. He couldn't run very fast in his costume either and lucky for him, I couldn't get a clean lower body shot. So I shot the golden ice goose. The body shattered, the goose neck snapped, the head went spinning and Mr. Money Tree showed prime interest in improving his rate of escape. I shot him in the ass as well and he went down near the barrel guy.
I reload again - probably for the last time - I couldn't find any of my other targets. I figured the fountain pen guy would have been another slow mover but he had vanished. So I shot out 2 large plate glass windows in the mansion and another propane heater. I used my last round on the chocolate dipping fountain. It kicked up an impressive brown splash and toppled over, rolled off the table and onto the ground.
I noticed a small fire had started where my fireworks went off. I love it when a plan goes smoothly. It was time for me to go.
Well I'm proud to say that the "fireworks phone" functioned as desired. The Roman candles fired off in sequence and as expected, the party goers all stopped what they were doing and turned to watch the fireworks. Just as the 3rd Roman candle launched I fired my first shot at Mr. Big, the party host. I got him "body, center of mass" and saw a dark wet patch wink open on the chest of his white suit as he began to collapse onto his well manicured lawn. I pulled the rifle bolt back, ejected the empty casing and then put the bolt forward to chamber a fresh round. Even though I was fairly sure my first shot was fatal, I wanted him to be made an example and shot him again in the torso.
A couple of people near him had just noticed something was not right and were moving toward him as the last Roman candle went off. Target #4, dressed as a pirate, was one of these people. I shot him, in the upper chest just as he started bending down to help and as the fire crackers started going off. This time the other people nearby could tell he had been shot. From their body language some of them were reacting and maybe even screaming in horror. My element of surprise would soon be gone.
I panned over to Target #2 who was dressed as a Prince. He didn't know anything was wrong yet so I quickly took my shot and dropped him. Those were my first 4 shots and now I had to reload. I pulled the bolt back, pressed in 4 rounds and then closed the bolt. I put my eye back up on the scope, picked up Target #3, a Viking, snapped off the shot and then moved on my next 2 targets, the Star Trek twins. They weren't near any of my earlier targets and so didn't realize anything was amiss. I shot twice and didn't miss. The string of fire crackers was ending and I used my last round on the propane tank of one of the portable heaters and started reloading again - 4 more rounds. The propane tank didn't instantly blow up like in the movies but the venting gas did spin the entire heater around and there was an impressive tongue of flame when the propane flume reached a neighboring heater.
Of course now everybody knew something bad was happening but many still didn't know exactly how and were mostly looking around confused rather than running for cover. I zeroed in on the guy dressed as a bundle of cash and shot the wad in the ass. Remember I wasn't sure exactly who this guy was so I wasn't shooting to kill. He was in a cluster of people and many of them could tell he had just been shot. He very well may have shouted out this fact as he fell. They started running away and screaming and like a flock of birds shifting in formation, I could see the reaction ripple through the party crowd. The guy wearing the wooden barrel and body stocking wasn't able to run very fast and he was an easy shot. I opened up another bung hole in the barrel by his butt. He went down and the barrel rolled him into the bushes.
Things were pretty jumbled now and I had to pan about to find another target. The Money Tree guy was huddled down by an ice sculpture of a large swan. I wasn't sure if this was a good or dumb move on his part. His branches still stuck up fairly high with some brightly colored decorations so it's not like they were providing brilliant camouflage. He couldn't run very fast in his costume either and lucky for him, I couldn't get a clean lower body shot. So I shot the golden ice goose. The body shattered, the goose neck snapped, the head went spinning and Mr. Money Tree showed prime interest in improving his rate of escape. I shot him in the ass as well and he went down near the barrel guy.
I reload again - probably for the last time - I couldn't find any of my other targets. I figured the fountain pen guy would have been another slow mover but he had vanished. So I shot out 2 large plate glass windows in the mansion and another propane heater. I used my last round on the chocolate dipping fountain. It kicked up an impressive brown splash and toppled over, rolled off the table and onto the ground.
I noticed a small fire had started where my fireworks went off. I love it when a plan goes smoothly. It was time for me to go.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Whack A Banker!
An enterprising English seaside arcade has literally and figuratively had a smashing success with their "Whack A Banker" game. You pays your money and then whack the balding banker figures as they pop up at random. Business has been so brisk, the mallets are wearing out.
If you'd like to play an online version, here you go:
http://www.funnygames.co.uk/whack-a-banker.htm
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