Thank you very much to those who reviewed, continuing internet problems (severed cable going down in neighbor's driveway) have prevented me from submitting until this point. Please continue to read and review and keep in the Christmas spirit.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or other elements appearing in the games. I also am not the owner nor have I received permission from any of the mall stores (Suncoast, Dillards, Subway, etc.) that are mentioned in this story. Although, had I asked, who would have cared anyway?

Chapter 2: Jingle bells, bullet shells

Hugh strode quickly away, the silver suitcase bobbing in his darkish, hairy hand with every step.

Today you die Keef. He thought, his rough, scarred face crinkling into what was supposedly a smile. Vincent would be pleased. What he was unaware of, however, was that the case he was carrying was not full of cocaine. Inside, nestled among a few white bags of the good stuff, there was a bomb powerful enough to level the entire mall.

MMM

"But sir, what if he opens it before he gets back to Vince?" One of Keef's burly henchmen asked.

"Don't worry, he's not that stupid. Anyway, he'd have to pry it open if he wanted to because only I and Vince know the code lock," Keef replied, drawing a cigarette from his white suit jacket pocket and lighting it.

"So Vince has to be the one to open it?" The henchman said, his beady eyes lighting up.

"That's the idea ya dumbass," Keef said, taking a drag.

"Jeez, you don't have to call me names," The henchman said, looking down at his shoes. Keef ignored the complaint of his crony, his mind preoccupied with the drug war he was starting by eliminating Vincent. What he didn't know was that Vince wanted him dead as well, and his squads of mercenaries were moving in.

EEE

"This is Phoenix, Leviathan, do you copy?" Melvin said into his vest-mounted radio.

"Affirmative, Scorpion unit is in position, you guys ready?" Percible responded into his.

"Affirmative, Red Falcon unit is in position."

"Red Falcon?"

"Yeah, Red Falcon."

"Red Falcon?"

"That's what I said."

"No way, you definitely can not do that."

"What?"

"Change your team's name!"

"I didn't."

"Oh hell yes you did! You just used to be Falcon unit, there was no red involved, I distinctly remember!"

"Oh well, no big deal, even though now it's way cooler than your unit's name."

"Oh! Oh! Ok, now my unit is Black Scorpion unit!"

"Well, fine!"

"Fine!" Percible added finally and clicked off his radio. He and the Black Scorpion unit were ducked behind the counter of the closed food court Subway. Each of his fifteen men (it was a tight fit, behind that counter) had urban camouflage jumpsuits, Kevlar vests, Kevlar helmets, balaclava, and HK Mp5 submachine guns. Melvin(Phoenix)'s unit was waiting just outside the food court front entrance that led to the parking lot in three black vans. Percible's cell phone rang the high-pitched beep rendition of Have a Holly Jolly Christmas.

"Leviathan," He answered loudly and officially.

"Levia- what?" Hugh asked.

" It's percible," Percible mumbled.

"Who?" Hugh asked again, sounding irritated.

"Percible," Percible said, cupping his hand over the radio.

"Just tell me who the hell I'm talking to!!" Hugh yelled angrily.

"Percible! It… It's Percible," Percible replied, followed by the snickers of a few of his men. I hate my name…

"Oh, ok, well, move in, I have the case."

"Roger that, ok men! Let's move!"

"Ha ha, did you here that? His name's percible!" one of the mercs snickered.

TTT

Keef extinguished his cigarette on the bright red plastic table.

Hell, it's my mall, I'll extinguish my cigarettes wherever I damn well please. He thought, turning toward the exit.

Oh shit. He saw Red Falcon unit pouring out of their vans and training their Mp5's on him through the huge glass windows and automatic sliding doors. He turned around to flee back into the mall and saw Black Scorpion rising from behind the Subway counter, but they were not holding the well-priced freshly-made-right-before-your-eyes sub sandwiches that lost Jared those 937 pounds, but were armed with machineguns as well.

So then, Keef did what we all would do when faced with certain death by squad of mercenaries. He screamed like a little girl and hit the dirt.

AAA

Most last-minute shoppers, to an extent, are prepared for a bad day and a reasonable amount of shopping stress. It kind of comes with the package. However, very few of them are prepared for more than an unfindable gift, or that irritating lady who counts out her change one cent at a time. They are not at all ready for a stream of 9mm bullets to burst through the front window of the mall in a spray of glass and saw their nice red plastic table in half, interrupting a deserved mid-shopping stress-relieving lunch of veggie wraps and diet coke in a rather rude manner. This, rather unfortunately, is exactly what happened to Bethany.

Bethany dived toward the ground, her right side crunching on shattered glass and the rhythmic thud of the Mp5's drowning out the screams of her fellow unprepared shoppers. She lunged for her purse, feeling her heart pulse faster already and her vision beginning to redden. She thrust her hand inside and riffled through the contents for her pills. She retrieved the vibrant orange bottle and downed two of the pills, clenching her braced teeth as they slid down her throat. She felt relieved, a feeling that was soon interrupted by the realization that there were men firing machineguns wildly throughout the food court.

LLL

"Do you here something?" Frank asked the other SWAT members as they marched through Dillards.

"Yeah, sounds kind of like about thirty machineguns going off and a tumult of horrified screams from the fleeing shoppers," said Johnson, lifting a hand dramatically to his chin in a Sherlock Holmes-esque expression of thought.

"Maybe," Dick said, his brow furrowed, "the drug deal went sour and the guys are having an all-out firefight!"

"Perhaps…" said Johnson, stroking his chin dramatically.

"Let's call Bentley and find out what to do," Peter suggested.

"Or we could Flash-bang the food court, it would temporarily blind some shoppers, but it could give us a chance to strike on the drug dealers! Then we could establish cover and take out some primary targets with precision from long range before going in for the full-on assault! It could work guys, and we could save a lot of lives."

"Oh shut up Mark."

"Jesus, you're such a dumbass."

GGG

"What's going on?? What's going on??" Bentley frantically screamed from his porcelain pedestal.

"Sounds like whoever you guys were planning to arrest is putting up a fight," Snake said, his SOCOM already in his hand by reflex as soon as he heard gunfire, "I'm going out to see if I can save some shoppers, hold here."

"Like hell you are!" Bentley yelled, "First I have to arrest you!"

"Later," said Snake, "Are the SWAT guys coming?"

"Oh, yeah, I should probably tell them what's going on."

"Yeah, probably," Snake said before opening the bathroom door a crack. He saw a crowd of fleeing people and the muzzle flashes of about thirty submachine guns. He squinted, trying to catch a glimpse of one of the gunmen through the mass of fleeing people. His eyes still burned from the mace, and his vision was a little blurred, this would be tough. He slid out, closing the door silently behind him and began to army-crawl across the smooth floor toward the war zone that had once been a food court.

EEE

Bentley's radio hissed to life down at his belt buckle, and he grunted uncomfortably as her bent off of the toilet to retrieve it.

"Bentley," he answered.

"Sir, it's Dick, we hear what appears to be machinegun fire from the direction of the food court, do you want us to move in?"

"No, seal off the building, I'm unsure of Keef's whereabouts and we need him alive to find Vincent. Call in backup and cover every exit."

"Affirmative, Sir, will you meet us at Dillards to pull out?"

"Yeah, sure," Bentley said, beginning to stand when his bowels violently shifted, "Oh… uh… actually my position is still……. Compromised. You guys go and do what I told ya."

"Affirmative, all right boys! We're outta here! And Frank, leave those perfume samplers alone!"

AAA

Keef looked up.

Whoa, I'm not dead. He thought from beneath the overturned plastic table. He turned to see his henchmen were not as fortunate as him.

Oh well, they were dumbasses anyway. He thought, staining his white suit as he crawled through a puddle of diet coke and toward the exit of the food court.

RRR

Bethany waited as the heavy military boots of the Red Falcon unit thudded by her as they stormed into the mall. She was glad she had her pills; she knew things went bad if she didn't have her pills. One time, before Dr. Kevin increased her prescription to "rhinoceros portions" (his words), she had nearly killed an entire troupe of mimes with their own berets because they kept putting her in an invisible box. Oh yeah, things had been better since she got her pills, no more lawsuits, tranquilizer darts, muzzles, new cars. Life was better now; it would all turn out ok.

Bethany got to her knees and looked for her purse. She found it quickly, under the table, and on the chair, and on that dead guy, and on the floor, and generally shredded across the food court. Her pills were in there.

Oh fuck. She thought.

Author's note: Thank you so much to those who reviewed! I hope you enjoyed this segment and I plan to write more unless I receive a lot of negative feedback. Also, I have another story, it's called Lost Destiny. It's a serious story that I've postponed writing so I can get this one in while the holiday is still fresh. However, it is my real work of art that I really worked hard on and plan to continue. Please review that story as well; it would be my late Christmas miracle. Thank you and keep reading.