Josh Aston
Member
I was sitting quietly in my basement cleaning my AR15, because as we all know if the AR15 isn’t kept more immaculate than the Virgin Mary it won’t function. It wasn’t luck that allowed me to hear the sound of breaking glass; it was the fact that I was wearing my Peltor Tactical 7S electronic hearing protection. Breaking glass is not a good thing people. It generally signifies your rapidly impending doom. It is the same sound streetlights make when they’re shot out by jack booted thugs from the BATFE. I own two pairs of the Peltors that way I’m never without them, even when I have to change batteries. Sure my haircut looks a little funny, but that’s the price I pay for being tactically aware.
It was times like this that I wish the fake video cameras I had installed around my apartment were functional. But the majority of criminals are deterred by appearance alone, look like a hard target and they’ll leave you alone. So I’d decided to save a few bucks on the surveillance system and spend it on more tactical gear instead.
It was time to do some recon. I grabbed my Glock 7 and stuffed it into my waistband at the small of my back. That’s right I own a Glock 7. You’re thinking that only top secret covert ops guys can get the highly coveted all ceramic wonder nine that fires a 9mm projectile so wickedly effective that it can take down small airliners. Yeah well fortunately for me I have an acquaintance whose undercover disguise is to parade around as a black market arms dealer selling guns out of the back of his van. Because this certain acquaintance really likes me, he was able to part with his personal Glock 7 for a measly $4,000. I got it so cheap because it was mismarked as a 17. I had customized this particular Glock by adding a NY trigger, because the boys in NYPD know what they’re about since they have the largest police force in the US of A. It also wore a Crimson Trace laser grip, Trijicon night sights, an Aimpoint in a custom made mount, a Lasermax guide rod, and a Streamlight M6X was snapped on to the tactical rail.
But the Glock 7 wasn’t going to be nearly enough, so I strapped on my twin Desert Eagle .50 caliber handguns. We all know that the Desert Eagle is about worthless when it comes to self defense, but most people don’t know that. They get their firearms knowledge from Hollywood and on TV the Deagle .50 is the gun to have. Mine are the gold colored ones just to make sure everyone sees them and knows that I am a serious gunman. I also put my Walther P22 in the front of my waistband, the .22 has after all killed more people than any other caliber since the dawn of mankind.
But what if handguns weren’t enough, I decided that since my AR15 wasn’t fully clean yet I’d use my trusty AK47. I opened up my locker and pulled the AK out. It looked a little worse for wear, but that’s ok the AK will function under any conditions. I inserted a 40 rd magazine and tried to jack the bolt back. It was rusted shut, no problem, I slammed the buttstock against the concrete floor and used my size 12 wolverine to kick the bolt open.
I slung the AK across my back and then realized if there were too many of them I might need extra magazines, so I donned my tactical Blackhawk vest that carried an extra 12 clips. Just in case that wasn’t enough firepower I donned my drop leg rig that held an extra 4 mags. I wasn’t going to go down for lack of shooting back.
But the AK isn’t accurate past 50 meters so in case the BATFE had anyone past that range I decided to grab my ultra tactical Savage sniper rifle. It had one of those fancy tactical black stocks on it and a 42x sniper scope. I wanted to get it refinished in tactical desert tan, but the scope had set me back too much so I just let it rust instead, just as effective, even if it wasn’t pretty.
Just in case I needed the ultimate in firepower I also grabbed my ultra tactical NEF 12 gauge shotgun. Some people think you need a repeater for a tactical shotgun, but come on guys, it should be perfectly clear, the shotgun is a multi-projectile weapon perfectly capable of clearing an entire street with one shot. They don’t call them street sweepers for nothing.
I then donned my Vietnam era flak jacket. Some may tell you that the old flak jacket isn’t as good as the newer ones, but it’s made out of Kevlar too. They just want you to spend your hard earned dollars on the new stuff. I started to rush outside when I remembered my steel helmet. Steel is easily better than the Kevlar stuff, I mean come one good old metal against plastic. I’ll take the steel any day. I’d modified this helmet a little though. I know the government uses harmful brain wave technology to brainwash us and mold us into mindless sheeple. I’m not that easily duped though, my helmet is lined with pure aluminum foil, the only substance known to man that is capable of protecting the human brain from the harmful rays. I was now ready to go outside.
I exited through the front door, the last thing they would be expecting me to do. The BATFE had to know how well trained I am therefore they would expect me to attempt to use another exit. The glare from the sun was almost intolerable, but I quickly donned the welders glasses I’d bought at the local stop & rob for a mere $2.95. Completely bullet proof and better than any tactical goggles on the market. I quickly scanned the area as I did a tactical trip and roll off the front porch and into the rose bushes.
A little girl at a lemonade stand across the street was busy sweeping up glass shards. AHA! A tactical diversion to make me think they had shot out a street light, how clever, but I was prepared. I dialed my scope in, the cross hairs were centered perfectly on her head. “Die hellspawn.” I whispered under my breath as I squeezed the trigger. There was nothing but a click. They had infiltrated beforehand and sabotaged my ammunition. I opened the bolt and inspected the round. The dent on the primer was perfect, the round was still shiny from the WD40 I had used to clean it a week ago. They must have removed the powder.
As I was reaching for my back up magazine I noticed a dog handler walking down the street, no wait there was two of them. One on each side of the street. They had tiny Chihuahuas. I had heard they were using those as undercover attack dogs, now I had proof. I unslung my shotgun, cocked the hammer and pointed it down the street, one shot and both of them would be no more. I pulled the trigger, and watched in horror as the enemies were obviously using top secret force fields. The street sweeper had failed to do its job. Both K9 handlers were now aware of my presence though, they dove for cover as they released their dogs. The dogs were coming toward me, I didn’t have time to reload. I reached for the AK. It wouldn’t budge though. Oh ****!!! In the heat of the moment I’d forgotten to take it off when I put my vest on. I ripped the vest off and shouldered the AK. Say hello to my little friend you evil dog. The AK exploded into a cloud of brown powder, the barrel was gone. Not to worry an AK can survive anything. I attempted to chamber another round, but the bolt was stuck. An ordinary man would have given up by now, but I have absolute faith in the AK. I once again slammed the butt against the ground and kicked the bolt open. I missed the bolt on the first attempt and shattered the rust camouflaged magazine. No problem I had another in my drop leg pouch. I retrieved a magazine and…. OH **** again. I hadn’t bought any extra AK magazines, after all, how could a weapon that reliable need more than one. I was holding in my hand an AR15 clip. I threw it at the Chihuahua that was now biting at my ankle. I missed the dog completely. I’d have to resort to my back up gun, the trusty P22. I reached for and inadvertently pulled the trigger before I had removed it from my waistband. Fortunately for me I was relatively un-phased as I had already lost my left testicle to a similar incident on a classified mission two years ago.
Not wanting to divulge the secret Glock 7 I reached for my everyday carry gun, a custom Llama 1911 in the venerable .45 ACP. The Llama is every bit as good a gun as the more expensive ones but only runs a couple of hundred dollars. The 1911 is of course not very reliable, but reliability isn’t a big deal when it’s a .45. After all if you can’t stop it with one shot of .45, you can’t stop it with anything. The damned dog bit my wrist while I was reaching for my ankle holster. I jumped back to avoid getting bit again and lucky for me landed flat on my back.
It was then that I noticed the nefarious BATFE helicopter, sure it was painted to look like a news chopper, but I’m sure you’ve heard of undercover before. Things were getting desperate. I reached for my Glock 7 and proceeded to empty it toward the helicopter. The bad thing about Glocks though is that they aren’t very accurate, every single round missed.
As I rolled over in an attempt to get up I saw what every fighting man fears the most, a suicide bomber. He was a riding a ten speed huffy and had his satchel bomb disguised as a bag full of newspapers. He must have seen the Desert Eagles though, because one look at me and he turned that bike right around. He could tell I was one serious gunman, a man not to be taken lightly.
I could hear the sirens approaching, back up was finally on its way, and I had survived to fight another day.
It was times like this that I wish the fake video cameras I had installed around my apartment were functional. But the majority of criminals are deterred by appearance alone, look like a hard target and they’ll leave you alone. So I’d decided to save a few bucks on the surveillance system and spend it on more tactical gear instead.
It was time to do some recon. I grabbed my Glock 7 and stuffed it into my waistband at the small of my back. That’s right I own a Glock 7. You’re thinking that only top secret covert ops guys can get the highly coveted all ceramic wonder nine that fires a 9mm projectile so wickedly effective that it can take down small airliners. Yeah well fortunately for me I have an acquaintance whose undercover disguise is to parade around as a black market arms dealer selling guns out of the back of his van. Because this certain acquaintance really likes me, he was able to part with his personal Glock 7 for a measly $4,000. I got it so cheap because it was mismarked as a 17. I had customized this particular Glock by adding a NY trigger, because the boys in NYPD know what they’re about since they have the largest police force in the US of A. It also wore a Crimson Trace laser grip, Trijicon night sights, an Aimpoint in a custom made mount, a Lasermax guide rod, and a Streamlight M6X was snapped on to the tactical rail.
But the Glock 7 wasn’t going to be nearly enough, so I strapped on my twin Desert Eagle .50 caliber handguns. We all know that the Desert Eagle is about worthless when it comes to self defense, but most people don’t know that. They get their firearms knowledge from Hollywood and on TV the Deagle .50 is the gun to have. Mine are the gold colored ones just to make sure everyone sees them and knows that I am a serious gunman. I also put my Walther P22 in the front of my waistband, the .22 has after all killed more people than any other caliber since the dawn of mankind.
But what if handguns weren’t enough, I decided that since my AR15 wasn’t fully clean yet I’d use my trusty AK47. I opened up my locker and pulled the AK out. It looked a little worse for wear, but that’s ok the AK will function under any conditions. I inserted a 40 rd magazine and tried to jack the bolt back. It was rusted shut, no problem, I slammed the buttstock against the concrete floor and used my size 12 wolverine to kick the bolt open.
I slung the AK across my back and then realized if there were too many of them I might need extra magazines, so I donned my tactical Blackhawk vest that carried an extra 12 clips. Just in case that wasn’t enough firepower I donned my drop leg rig that held an extra 4 mags. I wasn’t going to go down for lack of shooting back.
But the AK isn’t accurate past 50 meters so in case the BATFE had anyone past that range I decided to grab my ultra tactical Savage sniper rifle. It had one of those fancy tactical black stocks on it and a 42x sniper scope. I wanted to get it refinished in tactical desert tan, but the scope had set me back too much so I just let it rust instead, just as effective, even if it wasn’t pretty.
Just in case I needed the ultimate in firepower I also grabbed my ultra tactical NEF 12 gauge shotgun. Some people think you need a repeater for a tactical shotgun, but come on guys, it should be perfectly clear, the shotgun is a multi-projectile weapon perfectly capable of clearing an entire street with one shot. They don’t call them street sweepers for nothing.
I then donned my Vietnam era flak jacket. Some may tell you that the old flak jacket isn’t as good as the newer ones, but it’s made out of Kevlar too. They just want you to spend your hard earned dollars on the new stuff. I started to rush outside when I remembered my steel helmet. Steel is easily better than the Kevlar stuff, I mean come one good old metal against plastic. I’ll take the steel any day. I’d modified this helmet a little though. I know the government uses harmful brain wave technology to brainwash us and mold us into mindless sheeple. I’m not that easily duped though, my helmet is lined with pure aluminum foil, the only substance known to man that is capable of protecting the human brain from the harmful rays. I was now ready to go outside.
I exited through the front door, the last thing they would be expecting me to do. The BATFE had to know how well trained I am therefore they would expect me to attempt to use another exit. The glare from the sun was almost intolerable, but I quickly donned the welders glasses I’d bought at the local stop & rob for a mere $2.95. Completely bullet proof and better than any tactical goggles on the market. I quickly scanned the area as I did a tactical trip and roll off the front porch and into the rose bushes.
A little girl at a lemonade stand across the street was busy sweeping up glass shards. AHA! A tactical diversion to make me think they had shot out a street light, how clever, but I was prepared. I dialed my scope in, the cross hairs were centered perfectly on her head. “Die hellspawn.” I whispered under my breath as I squeezed the trigger. There was nothing but a click. They had infiltrated beforehand and sabotaged my ammunition. I opened the bolt and inspected the round. The dent on the primer was perfect, the round was still shiny from the WD40 I had used to clean it a week ago. They must have removed the powder.
As I was reaching for my back up magazine I noticed a dog handler walking down the street, no wait there was two of them. One on each side of the street. They had tiny Chihuahuas. I had heard they were using those as undercover attack dogs, now I had proof. I unslung my shotgun, cocked the hammer and pointed it down the street, one shot and both of them would be no more. I pulled the trigger, and watched in horror as the enemies were obviously using top secret force fields. The street sweeper had failed to do its job. Both K9 handlers were now aware of my presence though, they dove for cover as they released their dogs. The dogs were coming toward me, I didn’t have time to reload. I reached for the AK. It wouldn’t budge though. Oh ****!!! In the heat of the moment I’d forgotten to take it off when I put my vest on. I ripped the vest off and shouldered the AK. Say hello to my little friend you evil dog. The AK exploded into a cloud of brown powder, the barrel was gone. Not to worry an AK can survive anything. I attempted to chamber another round, but the bolt was stuck. An ordinary man would have given up by now, but I have absolute faith in the AK. I once again slammed the butt against the ground and kicked the bolt open. I missed the bolt on the first attempt and shattered the rust camouflaged magazine. No problem I had another in my drop leg pouch. I retrieved a magazine and…. OH **** again. I hadn’t bought any extra AK magazines, after all, how could a weapon that reliable need more than one. I was holding in my hand an AR15 clip. I threw it at the Chihuahua that was now biting at my ankle. I missed the dog completely. I’d have to resort to my back up gun, the trusty P22. I reached for and inadvertently pulled the trigger before I had removed it from my waistband. Fortunately for me I was relatively un-phased as I had already lost my left testicle to a similar incident on a classified mission two years ago.
Not wanting to divulge the secret Glock 7 I reached for my everyday carry gun, a custom Llama 1911 in the venerable .45 ACP. The Llama is every bit as good a gun as the more expensive ones but only runs a couple of hundred dollars. The 1911 is of course not very reliable, but reliability isn’t a big deal when it’s a .45. After all if you can’t stop it with one shot of .45, you can’t stop it with anything. The damned dog bit my wrist while I was reaching for my ankle holster. I jumped back to avoid getting bit again and lucky for me landed flat on my back.
It was then that I noticed the nefarious BATFE helicopter, sure it was painted to look like a news chopper, but I’m sure you’ve heard of undercover before. Things were getting desperate. I reached for my Glock 7 and proceeded to empty it toward the helicopter. The bad thing about Glocks though is that they aren’t very accurate, every single round missed.
As I rolled over in an attempt to get up I saw what every fighting man fears the most, a suicide bomber. He was a riding a ten speed huffy and had his satchel bomb disguised as a bag full of newspapers. He must have seen the Desert Eagles though, because one look at me and he turned that bike right around. He could tell I was one serious gunman, a man not to be taken lightly.
I could hear the sirens approaching, back up was finally on its way, and I had survived to fight another day.
