Blood and Liquor

Chapter 1: The Morning Shitshow:

Los Angelas, California, August 2022:

The quiet morning was shattered by the roar of diesel engines. Four black APCs, with LA SWAT painted in white on their sides, sped down the highway, weaving in and out of traffic. The other cars on the road did their best to move out of the way, but the morning rush hour made it difficult. Their drivers barely spared a glance at the APCs as they passed. With crime on the rise, they were a common sight. Inside each APC, teams of ten heavily armed officers were prepping their equipment for a raid.

The LAPD, with help from the DEA, had been investigating reports of large shipments of drugs coming from the port. Recently, security and customs agents had been finding stashes of fentanyl and cocaine hiding inside of shipping containers. Some had even been found stuffed inside of children's toys. At least twenty people had been arrested in connection with the smuggling, but they were mostly low-level dealers, and a few dumb kids trying to strengthen their street cred. But two days earlier, the LAPD managed to arrest a high-ranking member of the Bola Ocho cartel, who surprisingly seemed rather eager to talk. Apparently, he and the cartel had a falling out, and he wanted revenge, as well as protection from the cartel's wrath.

His interrogation revealed that Bola Ocho had massive stockpiles of drugs and illegal weapons that were being held in three warehouses in the Port of Los Angelas. According to him, the cartel was going to load the drugs onto several trains, distributing them to various other gangs throughout the country. At the same time, the weapons were to be smuggled to the cartel's main contingent in Mexico. Lastly, he told the interrogator this would happen two days from then, barely giving the LAPD enough time to plan a raid. Despite that, however, they were able to use previous surveillance data to plan a raid in less than twenty-four hours. With permission from the mayor, the LAPD mobilized both the Tactical Response Team and the SWAT Team to secure the warehouses.

Now the two teams, occupying the four APCs, sped toward the docks. The first two, carrying the Tactical Response Team, broke off and headed down a nearby street, a lesser-known shortcut. They were to be the tip of the spear, the first ones in. The remaining APCs, carrying the SWAT Team, continued down the highway. Their role was to form a parameter around the warehouses and provide backup for the TRT.

Sitting in the last APC was Officer Gary Wilkins. At twenty-four, he was the youngest member on the team, having joined a year earlier. And it showed. While the rest of the team was ready for a fight, he was still fiddling with his helmet. Across from him, his closet friend, Officer Kevin Henry, watched him with a smirk.

"Need some help?" he asked.

"Sure," Gary replied, "Think they gave me a shit helmet again." He handed his helmet to Kevin, who eagerly took it.

"Not this time," he said, adjusting the straps, "This is the real thing. Wouldn't do anyone good to have a dead cop on their conscience."

"You'd be surprised," Gary muttered. Kevin pulled on the straps a couple more times, then handed the helmet back to him.

"Try it now," he said. Gary flattened his dark, brown hair and set the helmet on his head, securing the straps under his chin.

"There you go!" Kevin said with a chuckle, "Now you look like you're ready to play army!"

Gary chuckled and began inspecting his weapon. Unlike the rest of the team, which were armed with HK 416A3s, he was armed with an HK MR308A3-28 with a twenty-inch barrel. Though he was a rookie, he was an excellent marksman, and therefore, had the honor of taking the SWAT Team's newest weapon out for a field test. Like his team's 416s, his rifle was fitted with a suppressor. His was a sleeved suppressor, one that covered most of the exposed barrel, the end stopping an inch from the handguard. At the bottom of the handguard was a Harris bipod.

Gary grabbed the suppressor and gave it a twist, making sure it was tight before doing the same with the bipod. Behind the bipod was an angled foregrip, not standard issue but something he added for personal preference. Finally, he checked his scope, making sure the mounts were tight and the magnification was set. Like the foregrip, the scope was his own, a Primary Arms GLX 3-18x44mm.

"You done fondling your gun?" Kevin asked.

"Did you buy her dinner first?" the officer next to him asked.

"I was just checking that everything's ready," Gary replied in a bored tone.

"Sure you were," Kevin said, wiggling his eyebrows. Gary opened his mouth to retort but was cut off by the team leader.

"Enough chit chat," he began, "Listen up! We're ten mikes out from the docks. The TRT should be arriving about now. They're going to surround the warehouses and move in when cleared by command. We are to provide cover and support. Team one will cover the TRTs rear to prevent an ambush while we will mop up any stragglers. Clear?"

"Yes sir!" the team said in unison.

"Newbie," the team leader said, pointing at Gary, "There's an abandoned building to the west of the warehouses. I want you on the top floor. You'll be overwatch, clear?"

"Crystal, sir," Gary replied.

"Good," the team leader said, "Final equipment check, get ready for a fight."

The team began their final equipment check, counting magazines, flashbangs, and handcuffs. A few members performed a radio check, syncing their channels with command. Gary removed the magazine and pulled the charging handle on his MR308, the brass from the chambered round shining back at him. He released the charging handle and pressed the forward assist a few times to ensure the bolt was seated. He reinserted the magazine and adjusted his sling so the rifle rested against his chest. He then reached down and drew his sidearm.

While the other members used the Kimber 'LA SWAT Special', Gary opted for his personal handgun, an FN FNX 45. He dropped the magazine, seeing it fully loaded with fifteen .45 ACP rounds. He pulled the slide back slightly, revealing a sixteenth round in the chamber. He rubbed his thumb over the burnt bronze barrel, wiping off some excess oil. He aimed at the floor and checked the flashlight attached the bottom of the frame before holstering his pistol. He looked over his vest and checked the three spare magazines for his rifle that were snugly stuffed inside their respective pouches. He ran his fingers across the two spare mags for his pistol, stuffed inside two small pouches on the side of his vest. Satisfied with his equipment, he leaned his head back against the wall of the APC, calming his nerves for the fight.

'This is it,' he thought, 'the real deal.'

Soon, the APCs slowed to a stop just outside a security gate. The team stood from their seats and exited the moment the ramp was lowered. They could already hear gunfire, meaning they were late to the party. The team put in the ear plugs and radio earpieces before moving in, weapons at the ready.

"Team One," command called through the radio, "We need you to split up, five on warehouse one and the other five on warehouse two."

Team One's lead waved them forward, and they moved through the gate, the members splitting up almost immediately. Gary's team lead motioned up to the gate, taking positions just outside. Their team lead stood peeking around the gate, waiting for their call to move in. A few minutes, they were given the green light.

"We're goin' in!" the team shouted, "Wilkins! Get in that building! Ryans, cover him."

Gary moved from the gate and ran down the street, Ryans close behind. When they reached the building, they positioned themselves on each side of the entrance. Ryans gave a signal before kicking in the door and charging inside. Gary moved in after him, sweeping the room with his rifle. They were surprised to find it empty, as they assumed that Bola Ocho would've had some sicarios inside, or at the very least a halcon.

"Something about this doesn't seem right," Gary muttered.

"We worry about it later," Ryans said, "Let's get to the top floor."

Carefully moving through the room, they searched for the stairs. The building was filled with old furniture and tools, which made their search difficult, but eventually they found the stairs. They made their way up eight flights of stairs, emerging into a long hallway.

"Down that way," Ryans said, pointing to his right at a room down the hall, "That room overlooks the warehouses."

"Alright, I'll set up in there. Keep watch outside," Gary said.

"I got the hall," Ryans said, confirming the order.

Gary stepped inside the room, the window in front of him given a clear view of the warehouses, the three of them sitting diagonally from the building. Extending his bipod, he set his rifle up on a desk in the center of the room. Resting the stock against his shoulder, he peered through the scope. He scanned the area around the warehouses, searching for police and cartel members alike.

After a few minutes of scanning, he spotted several TRT members breaching the second warehouse. Shifting his scope to the right, he spotted several SWAT officers taking cover behind a parked car. Sparks flew from its chassis and the rear window was shattered seconds later. The officers huddled close together, unable to move from cover. Gary watched the bullets impact the car, and he followed them to the shooter.

On the roof of the first warehouse was a sicario armed with a SCAR 20. He was lying prone next to an A/C unit, raining fire upon his fellow officers. Gary adjusted his scope's magnification and centered the reticle on the sniper's head. Taking a slow, deep breath, he squeezed the trigger. A cough came from the suppressor, and a small cloud of smoke appeared in the scope. At nearly the same time, a pink mist erupted from the side of the sicario's face, his body contorting before going still.

Gary breathed a sigh of relief, running his fingers under his helmet to wipe the sweat from his forehead. He watched the SWAT officers move from behind the car and position themselves on the side entrance of the warehouse. The team lead forced open the door and ran inside, firing his rifle as he went. The rest of the team followed in close behind. The last guy had just crossed the threshold when he was shot several times in the back.

With a curse, Gary followed the shots, spotting a couple of sicarios armed with Galil Ace pistols. The two of them continued shooting into the open door, keeping the other officers pinned down. Gary moved his reticle to the first sicario's back and fired. He fell face first onto the pavement, his demise going unnoticed by his partner. Gary then moved his scope to the back of his head and fired. The 175-grain projectile blew his head open, sending brain matter and skull fragments onto the pavement. Back at the warehouse door, the fallen officer was pulled inside, and the door was slammed shut. Static filled Gary's radio before his team lead's voice was heard.

"Wilkins!" he said, "We're pinned down at the second warehouse! Where's our cover!?"

"Copy, standby," Gary replied, shifting his aim to the second warehouse.

He could see his teammates hiding behind a shipping container, which was currently being pelted with bullets. He could see two men with Scorpion Evos, but the rest of the sicarios were out of view. Gary quickly dispatched both of them, giving his team an opening. He watched as one officer leaned from behind the container and hurled a flashbang into the warehouse.

A cloud of thick, white smoke flowed from the entrance, followed by several men stumbling out into open. Gary watched his team rush forward, swiftly disarming most of them. A few regained their bearings and ran down an alley next to the building. Three officers took off after them while the others dragged the handcuffed cartel members behind the shipping container.

Suddenly, one of the officers went stiff before falling to the ground. Gary was confused for a moment, but the blood pooling under the officer's body made him realize what happened. The remaining officers caught on as well, scattering behind whatever cover they could find.

"Fuck me!" Gary cursed, scanning the dock for the shooter.

Finally spotting them on the roof of the first warehouse, Gary gritted his teeth when he saw them armed with the same SCAR 20 from the first sniper he killed. Wasting no time, he aimed at their head and fired, painting the roof with their brain matter.

"Wilkins!" his team lead's voice suddenly barked in his ear, "We're taking fire! The hell are you doin'!?"

"Sniper's down, sir," Gary replied.

"Well, there's another one somewhere!" his team lead snapped, "And the TRT could use some backup!"

"Copy that, sir," Gary said, scanning the rooftops.

He didn't make it far before he saw something that made his blood run cold. A large group of heavily armed men were making their way towards the warehouses. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Clearly, they severely underestimated how many cartel members were here. Gary watched as they closed in on the first warehouse, the members splitting off into several smaller groups.

"Sarge," Gary said through his radio.

"Not now, Wilkins!" he replied, his voice nearly drowned out by gunfire.

"Fuck!" Gary hissed.

Knowing he was on his own, he aimed his scope at one of the sicarios in group, squeezing the trigger the moment he had a shot. He downed another three before they realized what was happening and scattered for cover. Gary didn't let up, shooting one at every opportunity. Feeling his gun run dry, he dropped the empty mag and grabbed another from his vest. He could hear bullets striking the building now, though none struck the top floor.

Shoving the fresh mag into his rifle, Gary sent the bolt home. He turned his attention back to the hiding sicarios, but gunfire behind him made him freeze. Suppressed gunshots from Ryans' HK 416 were followed by the sound of a body hitting the floor.

"Wilkins, we're compromised!" he shouted.

"Shit!" he hissed, activating his radio, "Sarge! We've been compromised! Sarge!?" He growled in frustration when he received no reply.

"Wilkins!" Ryans shouted.

"God damnit!" Gary said.

He picked his rifle up and folded the bipod. He took one last look through his scope, horrified when he saw a group of twenty men rushing toward the building. He quickly left the room and joined Ryans in the hall.

"I can't get through to Sarge," he said, "And there's shitload of guys on the way."

"We'll try again later," Ryans said, "We need to leave, now."

The two of them headed back to the stairs, stepping over the bodies of two sicarios. Ryans stepped into the stairwell first, then aimed his rifle down the stairs. He jumped back less than a second later as a bullet flew passed his face and was imbedded in the ceiling. He pointed his gun over the railing and fired several rounds. He pulled his arm back over the railing, nearly being hit by the multiple rounds that followed, their impacts filling the stairwell with dust.

"Wilkins! Flashbang!" he said.

Gary grabbed a flashbang from his vest, pulled the pin, and tossed it over the railing. He and Ryans crouched down and covered their eyes. A deafening explosion echoed through the stairwell, the concussion shaking them to their bones. After waiting a few more seconds, Ryans aimed his rifle over the railing, firing into the disorientated gunmen. Cries of pain were followed by the dull thuds of their bodies hitting the floor.

"You got' em all?" Gary asked.

"Yup," Ryans replied, "Come on, let's go."

He'd only taken one step when a cloud of pink mist burst from the top of his head, sending his body tumbling down the stairs. Gary stared in horror before gunfire snapped him from his stupor. He moved down the stairs and grabbed Ryans' body, slowly dragging him to the top. Setting his MR308 down on its bipod, he took Ryans' 416 and a couple spare mags, Gary positioned himself in the entrance of the stairs and waited. He could hear footsteps a few flights down, slowly making their way to the top.

A shadow appeared on the wall, followed by another. Gary could see they were both holding AKs. He raised his 416 and watched the shadows as they slowly moved up the wall. After a few tense seconds, one of the sicarios appeared. His eyes widened when he saw Gary. Before he could react, Gary put a 5.56mm round right between his eyes. He fell back against the wall and slid down to the floor, leaving a smear of blood on the paint.

"Mierda santa!" his partner shouted, randomly shooting at the wall.

Gary ducked as a round ricocheted off the railing and zipped past his head. He shoved his rifle over the railing and returned fire. A cry of pain meant at least one round found its mark. Gary slowly stood up and peeked down over the railing. The sicario was slumped against the wall, tightly clutching his stomach. He made eye contact with him, and slowly reached for a Glock 19 tucked in his waistband.

"Don't do it," Gary warned, "You know you won't make it."

The sicario ignored his warning and grabbed his gun. The moment the barrel left his waistband, Gary put two rounds into his chest. His body went limp, his Glock falling down a few steps. The stairwell was now quiet, but Gary knew that it wouldn't last. Using the opportunity, he sent out a distress call.

"This is Officer Wilkins!" he said, "I'm in the abandoned building on the corner of Wharf and 12th Street! There's a large of hostiles inbound. I need backup, repeat, I need back-!"

He was cut off by a gunshot, the round nearly hitting him in the face. He fell back against the wall, nearly slipping down the stairs. He recovered just in time to see a man armed with a Sig MCX charge up the stairs. Gary fired three rounds at him, with only one hitting flesh. The man dropped his MCX and grabbed the wound on his shoulder. Gary planted his sights on his head fired, putting him out of his misery. The man's death was answered by more gunfire from downstairs, the rounds pounding the wall to his left.

Gary moved out into the hall and picked up his MR308, slinging the rifle on his back. Inside the stairwell, he could hear multiple people heading up to his floor. He ran to the opposite end of the hall and opened the window, climbing out onto the fire escape. The first guy, armed with an AK, burst into the hall just as Gary climbed through the window. He ducked down as the sicario opened fire, the 7.62mm rounds punching through the bricks above his head.

Tossing a flashbang through the window, Gary made his escape the second it detonated. He ran down three flights of stairs before climbing onto the roof of an adjacent building. He started running to the other side where another fire escape was located. Bullets struck the roof near his feet. He dove behind an A/C unit, readying his 416. Taking a peeking around the unit, he spotted a sicario firing a Desert Eagle. He was shooting it with one hand, the heavy recoil sending rounds in random directions.

With an annoyed groan, Gary aimed at the window and put two rounds in the man's face. His body fell back into the hall, his Desert Eagle falling to the street below. Waiting a few seconds, he fled from cover to the fire escape, descending the first flight of steps as gunshots rang out.

"This is Officer Wilkins!" he shouted on his radio, "I'm being pursued! I need back-up! Somebody fuckin' respond!"

"Gary!" Kevin voice responded, "What's your location?

"Kevin! Thank God!" Gary said, "I'm running down fire escape, uh, should been coming down on 12th."

"Copy that. I'm on my way," Kevin replied.

Gary reached the bottom of the fire escape and ran down an alley towards the street. Metallic squeals from the fire escape meant the sicarios were catching up. Reaching the end of the alley, Gary took cover against the corner of the building. Glancing at the fire escape, he saw at least five men running down the steps. Not wasting a second, Gary emptied the remainder of his magazine into them. Two men dropped dead while the rest returned fire. Gary ducked around the corner and reloaded. He leaned out to shoot but was forced back into cover.

"Kevin! I'm pinned!" he called on his radio, "Where are you?"

"I'm almost there!" Kevin replied, "Just hold out!"

"Easy for you to say," Gary muttered to himself.

Bullets continued to pelt the wall, sending chunks of concrete onto the ground. Gary growled in frustration and stuck his rifle around the corner, shooting wildly. He heard at least one body hit the ground, making him glad his reckless act kind of payed off. A quick check of his mag showed he wasted half of his ammo. The remaining cartel members returned fire, tearing more concrete from the wall. More gunfire joined seconds later, meaning the rest of the group had caught up.

Gary was starting to get nervous. With only one full mag left, he wasn't sure if he could hold out. He felt around his vest and grabbed his last flashbang. Hopefully it would provide a big enough distraction. He hooked his finger in the pin, shuffling closer to the edge of the wall. He was just about to pull the pin when he heard squealing tires behind him.

Speeding towards him was a patrol car, its lights flashing. Thankfully, the driver kept the siren off. The car slowed down when it reached Gary, stopping next to him. The passenger door opened, and Kevin emerged, quickly joining Gary at the wall. He was followed shortly by the driver, an LAPD officer armed with a Remington 870.

"About damn time!" Gary said, "What to you?"

"We're getting hammered!" Kevin replied, "I told the chief two days wasn't enough!"

"Well, no shit!" Gary said, "Since when has the chief ever listened to anyone!?"

"Whatever. Just toss that damn thing," Kevin said.

Gary pulled the pin on the flashbang and tossed it around the corner. When it detonated, he and Kevin charged around the corner and opened fire. Five men dropped within seconds, the remaining seven started firing blindly. Gary and Kevin retreated to the car while shooting, killing another two men. At the top of the fire escape, more sicarios were making their way down, pausing to shoot at the bottom of each flight.

"This is falling apart!" Kevin shouted when he and Gary got to the car, "We need to regroup!"

"How? From what you said they have us surround!" Gary said, climbing into the backseat.

"Fuck if know! This whole thing is a disaster!" Kevin replied, sitting down in the passenger seat.

The driver climbed inside the car, quickly speeding past the building. The three of them ducked below the windows as the car was pelted with bullets. Gary covered his eyes when the sunroof shattered, raining glass over his head. He stuck his rifle out the window and shot a few rounds, none of which hit their mark. The car skidded around a corner, the tires squealing when the driver slammed the gas.

"Hey, where the hell are we going?" Gary asked.

"We're regrouping in a secure area near the third warehouse," Kevin replied, "The DEA's sending a team to assist."

"Why the hell didn't they send them in with us!?" Gary asked.

"Because that would've made sense!" Kevin replied, "There's no time to dwell on it. Once they arrive, we'll launch a counterattack."

"No, what you guys need to do is pull out," the driver said, "From what I can see, this whole thing's falling apart."

"It's a little too late for that," Kevin said.

"No, it's not," the driver argued.

"We don't have time for this!" Gary said, "Just get us to the rendezvous point."

"Look, I'm just trying-"

The windshield shattered and a cloud of blood filled the cab. The car swerved violently to the right and collided with a dumpster before slamming into a wall. The airbags deployed and saved Kevin from slamming his face into the dashboard. Gary, on the other hand, slammed his head against the cage, the impact dazing him. Kevin threw open his door and pushed past the airbag, tumbling down onto the street. Gary removed his helmet, trying to regain his bearings. The world around spun, making him nauseous.

Outside, Kevin braced himself against the wall, pinned down by heavy gunfire. He could tell by the sounds that someone had a 50. If nothing else, he needed to drop that guy. Lowering himself down, he crawled to the car and peeked out from under it. Looking past the fuel leak, he spotted ten men armed with AKs, with no sign of the 50. He knew he couldn't take them on his own. He knocked on the rear passenger door.

"Gary! Are you alright?" he shouted through the door.

Gary could hear someone shouting, but he couldn't make out any words. The sounds of bullets hit the car rang clear in his ears. He reached down to the floor and grabbed his 416. The window at his right shattered, slipping glass onto the seat. Gary spun to the window, aiming his rifle. He was relieved when he saw Kevin.

"You good, Gary?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Gary replied, "Open the door."

Kevin opened the door and Gary gave him his MR308. He shuffled along the backseat and climbed out onto the pavement. Kevin handed back his rifle and he slung it back over his shoulder. The two of them moved to the wall, returning fire when they could.

"This is bullshit!" Gary shouted.

"Just go down the alley," Kevin said.

They moved from the wall and ran down the alley. Stopping at a chain link fence near the end, Kevin slung his rifle and began climbing. Gary crouched down behind a trash can, aiming at the concrete underneath the wrecked patrol car. Kevin had dropped to the other side just as a man appeared from around the car, aiming a Galil Ace their way.

"Gary," Kevin warned.

In response, he fired at the pool of gasoline beneath the patrol car, the round igniting the fuel and engulfing the car in flames. The man emerged from the fire, the left side of his body in flames. Gary put a round in his head to end his suffering. He lowered the rifle and quickly climbed the fence, joining Kevin on the other side. The remaining cartel members had rounded the corner, keeping their distance from the burning car. Luckily, Gary and Kevin had moved into another alley before they were seen. The two of them hid themselves behind a large dumpster just inside the entrance.

"Now what?" Gary asked. Kevin thought for a moment, glancing around their surroundings.

"There's the third warehouse," he said, pointing towards the building, "The rest of the team should be on the other side. Let's not delay any longer, I've had enough of this."

"You and me both," Gary said. Kevin gave a soft chuckle and stood to his feet.

"I'm gonna take a quick peek," he said.

"Alright. Stay low," Gary said.

Kevin gave a nod and quietly mover to the alley's entrance. He leaned out, staring down the other alley. Gary shifted position, readying himself for a fight. Kevin turned to him and gave a thumbs up. Suddenly, the wall above his head exploded, sending chunks of brick flying through the air.

"Shit! Run!" Kevin shouted.

He and Gary ran through the alley, heading straight for the third warehouse. Behind them, a large group of men had entered the alley, about half of them continuing the pursuit. Gary and Kevin ran along the fence that surrounded the warehouse, following it until they found the gate. They pushed through the gate and took cover behind a shipping container. Gary stayed on one end while Kevin moved to the other. The men raced to the fence, making no attempt to conceal themselves.

Gary shared a glance with Kevin, who pulled his last flashbang from his vest. He waited until the sicarios reached the fence before pulling the pin. He threw it up in the air, the grenade exploding above their heads. He and Gary leaned out and fired, killing several men. The others shot blindly at the container, putting deep holes in the metal. One man, using a Scorpion Evo, managed a lucky shot on Garys's radio, the 9mm slug tearing the device from his belt.

Gary stumbled from the impact but quickly recovered, putting a round in the man's heart. Kevin ducked back behind cover to reload, shoving in his last mag. Despite killing at least seven, he and Gary were still outnumbered.

"We need to move! We can't hold here!" he shouted.

"They're still shooting at us!" Gary shouted back.

"We don't have a choice!" Kevin said, "I'll try and draw their fire!"

He turned and moved quickly to the container. He'd just reach the edge when a cloud of blood exploded from his chest, his body falling face first onto the concrete. Gary rushed to his side, but a quick glance was all that was needed to see he was dead.

"Mother fucker!" Gary hissed. On his own again.

Footsteps approached the container and a man, holding a Barret M82, stepped into view, his eyes widened when he saw Gary. He fired six rounds into the man's chest, the bolt on his gun locking rearward. He dropped the magazine and dug around his vest until he remembered that it was his last mag. He checked Kevin's body and found he was out of ammo as well. He set his 416 down and grabbed Kevin's. With his patience gone, he sprinted towards the warehouse, ignoring the bullets flying around him. A large metal door fifty feet away was he goal, and he charged straight for it, slamming into the door without a second thought.

Pain exploded through his body when he collided with the door. It flew open and he fell hard onto the floor. He stumbled to his feet and slammed the door shut, turning the deadbolt to lock it. Looking around the room, he saw it was filled with electric breaker boxes. Aside from that, the room was empty. He picked up Kevin's rifle from the floor and checked the magazine. It had only ten rounds left, not ideal, but he could make it work.

He crept to another door on the opposite of the room and pressed his ear against it. On the other side, he could hear muffled voices and things being tossed around. It was surprisingly quiet, which he found odd. Where was the TRT? He slowly opened the door and peeked inside. A couple of sicarios were stacking large plastic cases, while another one was placing something on top of them, his body blocking the view. Once he moved, Gary was shocked when saw it was a block of C-4. He looked over the rest of the room, he saw more stacked cases covered in explosives. Then, he noticed some more charges on the walls.

"They've rigged the whole place to blow!" he hissed.

He needed to stop this. He aimed at the man placing the explosives and shot him in the head. He ran inside and took behind a pillar. Bullets struck the pillar, creating a thick cloud of dust. Gary used this and returned fire, killing two more men.

"Gomez! trae el detonador!" a voice cried out.

Gary dove from the pillar and hid behind a stack of cases. Upon hearing the word detonator, the remaining sicarios were grabbing what they could and running toward the front doors. A few stopped to take potshots at him, but the rest ignored his presence and ran for their lives. Gary looking over the cases, trying to find this 'Tim' guy before he could detonate the C-4.

He soon spotted him running towards the electric transformer, heading to a plastic table in front of it. Gary set his sights on him and pulled the trigger, hearing an empty click. He angerly tossed the gun aside, ducking down when a bullet struck the case in front of him. Two men, one with a Glock 17 and the other with a 1911, were shooting at him from an office above the transformer. Gary searched the floor and grabbed a Galil Ace lying nearby. He moved from cover, shooting Gomez in the shoulder, making him drop the detonator. Gary stumbled when a round hit his vest. He looked up at the men near the office, both of whom were reloading. He shot multiple rounds into their legs, sending them tumbling down the stairs. Gary fired a few more rounds before the Galil ran dry. The men landed on the floor at the bottom of the stairs, blood pooling below them. Gary tossed the empty rifle on the floor and reached for his MR308. he fingers had just touched the handguard when a voice caught his attention.

"Oye, cabron!" it said.

Gary turned toward the voice, and his face filled with fear. Gomez had recovered and was holding the detonator in his hand, his thumb resting on the button. Knowing he wouldn't get a shot off in time, Gary turned and ran towards the exit just as Gomez pressed the button. A deafening explosion filled the room, filling the warehouse fire and smoke. The transformer exploded, sending arcs of electricity throughout the room. Gary turned to run, but it was too late. He was hit by the flame and one of the electrical arcs. Pain filled his core, his vision filled with blinding light. Then, the floor dropped from beneath him, the blinding light fading from his vision as he fell.

Author's Note: Here's chapter one of my Lackadaisy story! Like my other stories outside of Haunted and MHWA, this will update slowly. The next upload will be chapter 2 of Redemption. I've set the deadline for July 31, so keep an eye out for that. Also, I recommend you read the Lackadaisy webcomic, as this story will contain numerous elements and characters from it. Till next time, please enjoy this chapter! Constructive criticism welcome.