In light of the recent resurfacing of the infamous Gecko45 and the laudable response it got, I thought it'd be a good idea (most likely not) to have our own thread dedicated to Mall Ninja stories.
Be creative, but not unbelievable. The purpose is to sound sinceire and serious enough like SPECOPS and Gecko45, but not downright absurd. Saying you were responsible for the defence of a military base by double tapping Japanese terrorists with a 20mm Vulcan cannon from a bombed out F-16 is crazy. A more 'plausible' story would be how you did four Mk. II tactical sommersaults behind a potted palm tree in a mall, dodging shots and ricochets from four Russian mobsters trying to abduct the newest Mortal Kombat arcade game is what we're going for here.
Hopefully we'll get the mods approval to do this one thread without having it locked down. THR doesn't always need to be serious business about what the latest stupid celebrity leftist said on their dumb show no one watches or what a good pocket gun is. Sometimes you must simply bow to the absurd and laugh at the worst our Pro-2A society has to offer:) I'm sure even the liberals have people like this.
Get those war stories goin' guys.
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October 21, 2006, 05:33 PM
Hi guys, long time viewer first time poster with a few questions. il be going "incountry" for a few months with my team. im not allowed to say where or what were doing. but i assure you my SAS/SEAL/MARSOC/GSG9/SWAT/Black Water/Spetznaz training will come in handy.
my first question is how can i stop the intense light from my specialy adapted 24v Surefire weapon light from spontaniously igniting the suspects? im aiming for permenatly blinding them, but we need them alive so that i can use my KGB/ North Vietnamese interigation techniques on them.
second question. what do you guys think of the Oakly glasses? i had three pairs of Wiley X glasses but each of them met an unfortunate fate. including one having stoped a .338 Luapa round ( it had pasted through the 3 BG's i shot it and ricocheted off a T72 back at me!)
October 21, 2006, 05:39 PM
I am part of a secret organization that's so secret that I don't even know what is. There is a woman who lives in my house who gives me all my orders.
October 21, 2006, 06:12 PM
Nio, execute command prompt Y35 H0N3Y whenever said woman speaks to you. Fear not BIA, we have your back.
THE DOC 44
October 21, 2006, 07:22 PM
Hi , I am George Bush and I took Iraq single handed and now I'm going to do North Korea , Syria and Iran . Now where did I put my .45 .
October 21, 2006, 07:26 PM
recent resurfacing of the infamous Gecko45 He's BACK??? WHERE? LINK!!!!
I single handedly killed all terrorists everywhere within the US, using nothing but a matchstick and some pliers, and my ninja claws. My level 6 body armor (it's experimental) stopped everything--bombs, grenades, their evil stares. I have a .454 Casull 1911 that has 6 extra magazines IN THE MAGAZINE, and need help deciding on a .338 Laupua Sniper Rifle for the next time I go into the mall and need to shoot someone 6 million yards away, because only I and carlos hathcock can do that. :rolleyes:
the 22 junkie
October 21, 2006, 10:55 PM
That was me on flight 93. I killed all the terrorists with my super secret vulcan leg grip and then hid their bodies, but I couldn't let the passengers know I was super secret black ops. So just to get out I shot a hole in the plane with my desert eagle (becuase 50 cal. will shoot down planes) and jumped out to protect my identity. Oh well, collateral damage.
October 22, 2006, 12:48 AM
Yea... I thought I made it clear to make the stories believable and not outrageous.
October 22, 2006, 01:24 AM
and this one time at band camp....................
October 22, 2006, 02:36 AM
Well, there was this one time, back in the last millenium...
You see, I'm part of a SOCOM light infantry unit. Light infantry, you know, like scouts or snipers. We run at night - with thermal imaging goggles of course - through the woods of Afghanistan with a minimal loadout, taking down Taliban with a integrally-supressed Vihkr (yeah, I said Vihkr - for those of you chairborne rangers who think you know all about guns - the Soviet SR-3 Vihkr. Fires subsonic 9x39mm rounds, so you get both AK-style impact energy and the sectional density of a 9. Quieter than a cat's whisper. I took it off some Republican Guards who thought they were hot s***. Called themselves elite. Ha! The last thing that went through their minds was a sabot from my FiveseveN. Yep, you heard me right. You see, when you're a dead-sure shot like me, anything will do at close range. The .15cal sabots travels at nearly 3000fps. The shock effect alone produces massive trauma. Then, the sabot's unique design causes it to yaw, effectively creating huge wound channels. And you can forget about armor - these little sweethearts can penetrate a NATO helmet at 50 meters.) But back to the subject at hand. So there I was, running through the Afghani woods taking down Taliban just like Ol' Silvester himself in First Blood.
So here I am in the present. I can never truly be off duty, for there are some jobs that - quite frankly - no one else is qualified to take. I prefer to call it deferred activation. I'm too much of a trooper to rest on my laurels though, far be it. Because of my superb conditioning and advanced training, I don't really need to hit the trails every morning, but I do it anyway, just to demonstrate to others what it means to aspire to new heights. Frankly, I'm concerned about the level of physical conditioning in my unit. Some of these guys barely get 7 min miles. I run 20 miles every morning before my 0900 tripart tactical re-energization interval (what the mindless sheeple call it breakfast!). Normal terrain isn't even a challenge, so I run cross-country across the rugged backcountry of the national forests. With a full 30lb. battlepack and oakley assault boots naturally - those who practice sweating....
And that brings us to the circumstances which I am about to describe. So there I was, last day of deferred activation before reverting to full duty, with a 30lb backpack and oakley boots jogging through an undisclosed national forest. I came to what my finely-honed senses (sharpened by years of operating in-country) told me was a fork in the trail. Making an instantaneous and intuitive decisiob, I ground on, only to nearly trip over some stupid rocks that somebody had piled into little stacks of three. Looked like snowmen. Ye gad, don't civvies have anything worthwhile to do with the time operators like me buy for them everyday? And what do they do with it? The tree-huggers go and build little rock shrines in the middle of nowhere. Confident in my pathfinding abilities, I side-stepped these contemptible little piles of stone and continued along the trail. The trail got harder and harder to follow. Foliage constantly darted out at me. Only my keen scoutcraft and natural agility helped me to continue. You see, after countless incursions, running through forests with a 15lb weapon and full loadout, under constant suppressing fire from insurgent 14.5mm heavy machine-guns, this becomes 2nd nature.
Suddenly, a branch comes out of nowhere and snakes my foot. I react instantly by tranferring my forward momentum into a controlled fall. I hit the ground in prone position. Combat instinct, what can I say? Old habits die hard. I look at the muddy ground in front of me. My mind has already analyzed the situation before I can consciously become aware of it. A footprint. What was someone else doing out here? My sense switched into overdrive - my whole awareness was on high alert. I trekked warily down the "trail." Aha! My tactical SEAL sunglassses with enhanced differentation and color perception caught a glimpse of a horizontal line stretching across the trail. A wire! Someone had cleverly strung a wire between trees, no doubt to trigger a silent alarm. I have special authorization to investigate matters judged to be potentially important to national security, and tripwires in a forest - how much more ominous can it get? No doubt some domestic terror cell trying to build a WMD, far from the farseeing eyes of America's spooks.
I crept forward to investigate. Several men dressed in black pajamas milled around in a clearing, armed with silenced MAC10s and Chi-com AK47s. There were rows of foliage, some strange-looking bushes...suddenly it hit me like a point blank shot straight in the face: this was no NBC site; this was a drug farm for one of the cartels. *Splat* A chuck of bark flew off the tree trunk above my head. Too late, I realized my error as I simultaneously turned and executed a tight combat roll to my left. Up above me, on a cunningly hidden platform, another guard took aim with a MP5SD. Smoothly drawing the FivenseveN from its custom thigh holder, I squeezed off several rounds. Tango down. The commotion had alerted the others, and suddenly wild bursts of gunfire were all around. Marine crawling through the underbrush, I recognized the desperate need for a diversion. Popping the pin on a AN-M14 incendiary grenade I hurled it into a stack of dried bales. The dry material catches immediately. Distracted by the blaze, the remaining bad guys divert their attention for one crucial second, but it's all I need. I immediately spring up and Mozambique 3 of them. The air fills with a smell, almost like burnt sage, as thickening smoke hides me from the remaining assailant as I load another mag. Suddenly, out of the mist, an AK muzzle emerges, inches away from my head. Reacting instantly, I perform a powerful telegraphic sweeping motion with my left hand, diverting the barrel away from my CNS. Stunned and deafened by the muzzle blast, I instinctively thrust the FiveseveN forward into into the attacker. Feeling contact, I fire, and keeping firing until I hear a click. Exhausted, I slump onto my back. The smoke is strange somehow, it's making my eyes water. That weird smell... I feel lightheaded, almost giddy. All's well with the world. I get up and start jogging back. Funny, I have a hard time concentrating. Things seem hilarious. Somehow, I get lost. It takes hours to find my way out.
I can't be late for my next assignment, so I take the first flight to the airport nearest to*undisclosed location*. A simple call would've gotten me picked up by a military chopper, but I'm trying to stay low profile. During the flight, the guy in the next seat keeping looking at me funny. Finally I arrive at *undisclosed location*, and head straight in to see my CO. Walking up to his desk, I stand at rigid attention. He looks up, and -- pauses. Sniffs. To me: that better not be what I think it is.... :uhoh:
October 22, 2006, 03:02 AM
At least two people in this thread spelt this wrong already, so I have to correct it now. :evil:
.338 L a p u a
October 22, 2006, 05:46 PM
I'll bite, why not? In honor of Gecko45 and SpecOps, whose posts used to bring me to tears laughing so hard. Their earnest delivery is what sold me...
I am part of the TAC unit (Tactical Arcade Control) at the local retail outlet facility due west of a medium-sized town in the Midwest. We are a three man insertion team that rolls undercover in the arcade to protect the innocents and keep out the thugs who like to congregate around the old "Double Dragon" machine and deal drugs. I was resting in a tactical crouch behind the change machine (trust, but verify) when a crackle in my earpiece warned me that there was someone approaching. Sure enough, some punk in a basketball jersey comes up and, ignoring the large post-it with "owt of orrder" written on it in grease pen and taped to the machine, tries to insert a dollar in return for the customary three tokens. I leapt into action, catching my Level Ten Capiscum Delivery Device on the gumball machine in the process. After completing a forward roll to dodge the tumbling gumball machine I noticed the distinct burning odor of pepper spray. The punk kid must have maced me! Having rendered myself impervious to the effects of pepper spray through numerous deployments of same in my personal vehicle while driving to work I laughed it off while the kid started coughing and backing away.
"Where do you think _you're_ going, mister?!" I shouted.
"What do you mean?" he replied in defiance.
I noticed a crowd was gathering at this point, so I radioed for backup.
"Whiskey-Tango-Foxtrot, this is Mother Bear, the salmon is swimming upstream to spawn, over!"
My crack team then sprung into action. First came Doug, running so fast in his attempt to cover me that he slipped on a spilled Icee and went skidding right past the arcade and into the movie theater ticket line, where our enemies had craftily set up some form of cloth rope apparatus meant to entangle Doug's limbs and thus render him incapable of offering assistance.
Sadly, their plan worked. Terrorists: 1 Freedom: 0
I still had an ace in the hole, so I called for the last remaining team member.
"Whiskey-Tango-Foxtrot, this is Mother Bear, I put out the milky spores but the grubs keep coming, I repeat, the grubs keep coming!"
Now comes Larry charging from the changing room of the Fashion Bug Plus, responding so fast he left his pants behind. He still had his Tac belt though, and he was coming along at a pretty good clip until his PR-24 baton swung around and smacked him in the central groin region. Having folded like a poker player sporting a four, a five, a six, a seven, and a nine, Larry was as good as dead to me at that point.
It was all up to me now, and as I surveyed the area the situation looked grim. I was surrounded by child-fighters, some as young as perhaps six or seven. Oh it is sad how young the bad guys get to them nowadays... Figuring I had better end this quick I reached for my bottle of Level Ten Capiscum Defensive Spray only to find someone had emptied it when I was not looking. I then grabbed my PR-24 and started swinging in a wild-yet-controlled manner. The youthful conscripts scattered in all directions as I flailed wildly about, shouting instructions for them to get on the floor with arms and legs akimbo. My baton and most of my arm then went through the screen of the vintage "Galaga" machine and a strong jolt of 110v electricity coursed through me, rendering me temporarily unconscious and unable to maintain bladder control.
When I came to, the first face I saw was Doug's, then Larry's.
"I'm not going back to Orange Julius! They stopped giving me free drinks!" Doug said.
"If you're okay now I'm going to head over to Lane Bryant for awhile and check the perimeter" noted Larry.
"Shouldn't you retrieve your pants?" asked Doug
"Pants?" replied Larry
I then lost consciousness again, knowing that my buddies had taken care of everything and the arcade was safe for the sheeple again. It's tough being a sheepdog guarding the flock, but without a team like ours I shudder to think what life in the mall would have been like on that fateful day...
October 22, 2006, 06:07 PM
(Just so you guys know, I'm Indian)
I am a 7-11 owner in the suburban regions north of Philadelphia.
Though the area where my business is located has relatively low crime rates, I am concerned about my personal safety and the safety of my employees as the dangerous gangster territory of Philadelphia is closeby.
Recently, I obtained a permit to carry concealed weapons. I carry on my person: an STI Eagle 6.0 (1911 longslide doublestack) with a lasergrip in a shoulder holster, a Springfied XD40 with an M6 light/laser combo on my hip, on my left thigh I have a registered Serbu Super Shorty Mossberg configuration with built-in flashlight and laser as well adapted with Knoxx detchable magazine conversion, a registered Vector UZI SMG in a cross drop harness, and a short katana in a sheath on my back. I always wear level IIIA concealed body armor with trauma plates whenever I go out. In order to not alert my enemies to what I'm carrying, I wear a loose trenchcoat all the time.
In my business, I have a Striker-12 registered destructive device in a cabinet behind the counter. It's always fully loaded with magnum buckshot. In case the Striker-12 goes down, I have a MAC-11/9 registered SMG in the cash register. In case my enemies are armored, I have an Ewbank Mfg. AK-104 pistol with coupled 75-round magazines, a trirail with lasersight on the left, red-dot reflex on top, and sniper scope on the side. I have registered it as an SBR and configured it with an underfolding stock. It's always loaded with a round chambered. All of the 7.62 x 39mm rounds are armor-piercing. In case I am engaged by a sniper threat, I have a Barret 95M loaded with .50BMG Armor-Piercing incendiary rounds with a 30x sniper scope in a closet. In case I am engaged by armored vehicles I have a registered Penn Arms revolving barrel grenade launcher fully loaded with registered 40mm grenades. The grenade launcher has a thermal sight.
In case I need to exit the building through the back entrance, I have my motorcycle prepared to go with a Benelli-M4 fully loaded strapped on the back. Additionally, extra ammunition as well as a twin AK-104 SBR are hidden in the luggage rack.
I am worried about how to defend myself in case the building is surrounded. Although I spend full magazines of each of my weapons each day at the range I am not sure how to engage several different targets simoltaneously. Should I hire security? Should I buy a CornerShot weapons mount? Should I have camera coverage of the building's surroundings from the roof?
October 22, 2006, 09:31 PM
I am the infamous D.B. Cooper! Now where'd I put that !@#$% money?
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