On a dark night. A man in a brown suit closes his umbrella as the rain dies down. A Hobo on the concrete staircase to the factory's entrance looks up and smiles.
“Good Evening Colonel Eltwood!”
“Jesus Jack. It’s CEO now. C’mon, head inside. We got some leftover food from dinner.”
“Ahahahaha, this is why I came here. You know? You should just open a Canteen for the homeless at this point.”
“I would if I had expertise in Hospitality. Now, wipe your shoes at the door mat.”
“Sir Yes Sir!”
“And we aren’t soldiers anymore, remember? No point in delving into the past. C’mon, we have coffee and some cake. It was Lieutenant Greene’s Birthday, you know?”
“I’m sure his wife and kids are with him at home.”
“Yea.”
They both enter an old 80s Factory inside a dense city. The road was wet from some rain showers and the exhaust of an idled car on the opposite side of the road was letting off steam from its exhaust due how cold it was. Inside, they met with a desk and a Security Guard who was obviously busy playing a game on his Desktop.
“Hey dimwit. Get the Toaster running.”
“Oh shit! Sir!... and is that you Jack? Specialist Jack?”
“Hey Arnold. Long time.”
“Jesus, what the hell happened to you?!”
“Business didn’t fly, I've been homeless for a few months now.”
“Dang, well. Follow me. We got some leftover food. And heck, why not sign an application form? We need more workers here, you know.”
“Yea, thanks Arnold. I can see you making good use of your experience guarding HESCO barriers back at the FoB.”
“Hahahahah, oh yes I am. But this time, rather than seeing Talis lurk around the perimeter. It’s me and Warzone.”
The security guard with his light blue work shirt puts his right arm over the dirty man. Shaking him as he smiles, meeting a familiar face. “How long have you been stalking around here huh? Special Ops my ass.” and the two enter a Resting Area for the security staff on the East wing.
Eltwood waves at the two as he heads up the stairs. Smiling and giggling. On the second floor, a man in a fireproof jacket and reflectorized pants in work boots approaches him.
“Hey John, production is up the roof. Your idea is popping! I heard that even the big corporations are looking into teaming with us.”
“Really? Hey, we can finally hire more Vets. This is amazing! I’ll head up to my office immediately then.”
“Yea, talk to Dave. He told me the good news.”
“Ahahahaha, alright. Keep working with the others. Pump those Plastic Soldiers like there's no tomorrow!”
“Copy on all.”
The CEO pats his head production manager’s shoulder and gives him a thumbs up as he walks up to the third floor. Even though it was already Nine in the evening, the factory was still alive and well, with a lot of its Staff taking overtime to produce more products as demand went sky high. Dave, another man in a suit but in the style of a striped blue, shakes Eltwood’s hand firmly.
“You crazy fuck actually did it. After paying back all of our Loans and clearing our Debts, it's only going upward from here on out.”
“Yes, yes. I heard the demand has skyrocketed. Really?”
“Yeah, it has. I already put the Documents at your desk. Our most popular product is the Late Two Thousands US Army Armored Battalion. The Two Hundred Soldiers set with the Abrams and Bradleys.”
“What about the Motor Rifle one?”
“The little green Russian men are slowly getting famous in Belarus and Russia, just a bit more online advertising with our ex Spetsnaz staff. I’m sure we can make a foundation, our top buyers are mostly Government institutions and private collectors. Not the masses like here in America.”
“Alright.”
As the two walked through the wooden hallway with wooden partitions with large glass windows. The men stood up and saluted Eltwood as they celebrated the boom of their products. Many of them have Medals on their desks or photos of when they were still in service. The wall was littered with airsoft guns and surplus uniforms put into display. He entered his Office which was at the end of the hall. In the West wing, behind his small office is the Quality Control staff with the Complaint Desks. His office wasn’t anything special, other than some photos of when he was still a Colonel in the Army. All he had was a powerful gaming PC and some metal file cabinets and an old 70s wooden office desk.
Sitting down on his wooden chair with a pillow to rest his back on, Dave sits down in front of his desk. The metal chair clanks a bit as it takes his weight.
“So John, about hiring more Vets.”
“I was already thinking about it.”
“Nice, I already know a few we can hire.”
“But first, let us expand. Right now, this old factory is already getting more full than a chow hall after a course.”
“Well, we can acquire the abandoned building over there. Two blocks away and convert it into a toy factory.”
“Hmmm… though I guess we can move everyone on the second floor there too. Have our production centralized in one location.”
“Yea, yea and we leave this building as an Administrative department.”
“Exactly.”
Dave stands up and peers through the blinds of the Office. Directly overlooking the entrance of the factory and the road in front of it.
“Strange, that black Nissan sedan has been there for a while now.”
“I’ll call Arnold. He is with Jack right now.”
“That Spec Ops guy? What’s he doing here?”
“Didn’t I tell you that there’s been this Hobo with the DBDU pants lurking around this street for the last few days?”
“He’s still wearing those?”
“Yea, the guy's in pretty bad shape. Better prepare the extra cash if he needs rehab.”
“No worries, you just gave me my extra check. I’ll throw in some cash if it isn’t enough.”
Outside, the man inside the Nissan checks the chamber of his suppressed Glock 27. Confirming that it's loaded, he exits out. The man was in a black full face balaclava with a hoodie and a kevlar vest with cargo pants and bulletproof combat shoes. Opening the Nissan Corolla’s trunk, he takes a suppressed M4A1 with a PMAG. Its rail attachments consisted of a Laser/Flashlight combo and a TD grip. He also sees if the EOTech Holographic sight was functioning and wasn’t off target.
After finalizing his final checks, the strange man walks up to the front door. Knocking rapidly. Inside the Security Room, Arnold and Jack were having a good time eating some leftover strawberry cake.
“Oh man. This is the good stuff.”
“Didn’t you go through Ranger school? How’d you end up on the street?”
With the knocking becoming more annoying, the security guard shakes his head in annoyance. “Christ. Wait a moment Jack. Another crackhead has walked into our base.”
“Be careful, crackheads around these parts. They usually carry used needles with them.”
“Yea, this ain’t my first rodeo.”
Tightening his security belt, Arnold struts along to the front door. Licking some leftover strawberry icing from his fingers. Jack on the other hand looks at the CCTV cameras on the Security Room and sees it is a heavily armed man. “ARNOLD WAIT!” The man outside hears this and pulls out his Glock and headshots the guard who was already past the Security desk. Being trained, Jack quickly looks around and sees a Belt and a gun case.
Another one of the on duty Security Guards sees the blood splatter on the wall near the security desk and the strawberry cake on their bench. He quickly calls 911. “Hello, 911. What’s your emergency?” - “I am a security guard at Eltwood’s Toy Factory at Sunrise Park near the Docks. We might have one wounded.” - “Alright sir, we’re sending a unit to your location immediately.” as he enters the entrance hall, he is stricken to see his buddy dead on the floor with a hole through his head. He goes into the locker room and sees Jack trying to open the gun case.
This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
“What the heck Jack?!”
“SSHHH, THERE IS ONE CONTACT OUTSIDE WHO JUST NAILED ARNOLD.”
“What?! Why would someone want to rob a Toy Factory of all places?!”
“Just alert the higher rooms.”
“O-okay.”
As he clicks his radio’s speak button, a bullet comes through his head and swiftly into Jack’s back. Though it didn’t kill him, the stranger unloads some more bullets and stays a few seconds to see if he is truly dead. After not moving and bleeding from multiple gunshot wounds, the man moves up, unslinging his M4A1. One of the workers who was about to go on a break sees the guy and rather than running, screams from the top of his voice and tackles him. He screamed so loud the second and third floor heard it and ran down, with Eltwood taking his M9 Beretta from his drawer.
The armed man starts struggling as the ex soldier punches him to oblivion. The others ran to the hallway and started trying to take his gun away, but he was holding on to it for dear life. Just as Eltwood was about to arrive at the second floor, automatic gunfire from the adjacent building riddles his factory’s second floor. Killing hundreds of his employees in a few seconds. “GET BACK UP! THIRD FLOOR, ALERT EVERYONE! WE ARE UNDER ATTACK!” being pinned on the ground as the windows were shattered and the walls and bits and pieces of the concrete barriers gone, the entire place was full of cloud and floating debris from the attack. The stranger puts up his smartphone and opens a Secured Chat Room Application. Sending a Thumbs Up sticker.
He pushes the bullet riddled man from his top and looks around, seeing machines riddled with bullet holes and toy soldiers marked by the blood of the employees who built them with love and care. Three blocks away, a Police Crown Victoria is in Code 3, hearing the automatic gunfire. But its route is blocked by a Garbage truck that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. “Dispatch, this is Car 32. Is Sanitation active right now? There’s a Garbage truck on the way.” The gunman walks up to the third floor, guns up and checks the corners. He stops, just short from the view of the men there.
Walking back a bit, he opens his phone and into the chatroom. “Multiple people, both left and right of you. Armed with AR-15s and Glocks.” He sends another thumbs up and shoots the glass from the stairs, he then pulls out some M67 Frag Grenades, he throws one into the partitions through the broken window. One of the men sees it roll near him. “SERGEANT, DON’T YOU DAR-” the man instinctively and heroically jumps on top of it. Letting his body absorb the frag grenade as it explodes. “FUCK! MAN DOWN!” Two more grenades are lodged at them and three more on the other side where Eltwood is behind the cover of a Scanning Machine in the Quality Control Department. As they explode, shrapnel is thrown everywhere as the wooden desks turn into tiny pieces of lethal projectiles. Medals and Photo frames are thrown everywhere with stacks of paperwork.
The gunman emerges from the stairs and starts picking off the dazed and wounded men, though some were able to shoot back, his kevlar vest eats the small rounds. With adrenaline running in his blood, he only flinches from it. Finishing everyone off in the West wing, he looks in the East wing. The grenades he threw there were effective, killing everyone there instantly. Passing over the corpse of a man in a blue suit, he tactically moves from cover to cover. Approaching the Quality Control department. Behind one of the machines, Eltwood is bleeding from the shrapnel and his suit completely ruined as he has palpitations.
“Colonel John Eltwood, Former United States Army CO. Service in Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan and Syria. Just to be left jobless after returning to the states and later after a successful loan, opens his toy factory.”
“Y-yea. That is me you fuckwad.”
“My employers has marked you and your entire Operation for removal. Please, do not make this any harder. You can’t go anywhere.”
“Wh-who sent you?”
Eltwood sees one of his toys. An 80s US Army soldier in Woodland BDUs and PASGT helmet. Wielding an M16A2. Picking it up, tears flow from his eyes as he holds it close to his heart.
“Don’t make this anymore cruel. Just end it here Colonel.”
“I FOUGHT FOR THIS COUNTRY, I PROTECTED THE FREEDOM OF EVERY EACH ONE OF YOU, AND TILL THE END, I WILL CONTINUE TO SERVE THIS NATION!”
Shots come from the staircase, shooting the gunman in the back multiple times. Though his vest tanks it all, he drops from the amount of bullets that hit him in quick succession. On the adjacent building. The other gunman with an M249 SAW mounts it on the decrepit window frame. Looking through the sight, he sees a Hobo with a Glock 17. Riddled with bullets, barely alive and walking but somehow managed to walk all the way up to the third floor and even shoot his colleague multiple times in the back.
“COLONEL ELTWOOD! I THANK YOU FOR YOUR SERVICE! IF I AM TAKEN, I PRAY I HAVE THE STRENGTH TO DEFY MY ENEMY!”
He faces his pistol to the adjacent building, pointing it directly at the other man. He couldn’t believe his eyes as the room was completely dark and the Hobo only had one eye open as his left one was covered with blood. He takes cover as his position is riddled with bullets till it suddenly stops. Peering through, he sees that his friend has finally taken down the guy. But a shot rang and he saw him holding his left shoulder as the Colonel shot him where he had no armor. It was bleeding profusely but they couldn’t get a shot as Eltwood’s office was completely covering his view.
The M9 Barretta’s bullet ripped through the wooden partition.
“TELL ME, WHERE DO YOU LIVE? BECAUSE I’LL COME FOR YOU EVEN AFTER I AM IN HELL!”
“Hahaha! I live in the Five Seasons Hotel! Floor Fifty Five, Room Ten.”
“YOU BETTER-”
The Colonel is shot multiple times through his right side, the other gunman in the adjacent building riddled his wooden office walls, the bullets punch through his blinds and through the window and wall. Though the spray was inaccurate, the amount of bullets thrown at such a short amount of time made quick work of the unarmored officer. Peeking through the door, he sees that the Colonel was finally dead. With him putting pressure on his wound, he walks down to the first floor and into the security locker. Deleting the CCTV footage of that night as he runs into the Nissan with his friend already on it. As they drive off, a white van comes in with hooded figures, running inside and securing anything they can find. Violently throwing it into the vehicle as sirens come closer and closer.
On the third floor, the Colonel breathes his final breath. Blood from his wounds drowns the toy soldier he’s holding. The next day, a Detective comes into the stricken factory. The news quickly broke out about the massacre, making the entire city grieve the deaths of the Veterans and newspapers about it being sold around the block.
“And here is Colonel Eltwood. Purple Heart and Distinguished Service Cross. He is even in line for a Medal of Honor I heard.”
“And CoD?”
“Multiple GSWs through the right side. Some of the bullets exited to the other side.”
“Anything found on him?”
“Other than a service M9 Beretta, Smartphone, and a wallet, nothing else.”
“Family?”
“Contacted his parents. He is unmarried and seemingly never had a relationship with a woman as he joined up the army at a young age.”
“Clues?”
“CCTV footage is all deleted, though we did find some cases of 556 on the adjacent building and here. Whoever was firing from that abandoned place did a sloppy job on his last squeeze and left some casings while spent casings are left on the first, second and third floor.”
“Weapon?”
“Fully automatic potentially, nothing legal in this state that’s for sure.”
“Anything else?”
“Some of the boxes of toys on the second floor are missing, and his PC is gone.”
“This was a clean job. Too clean, get me a line to the Chief. I smell bullshit.”
A few hours later, a Humvee is driving through the midnight sky. Its driver was wearing an antique 1980s US Army Woodland BDU. Complete with a PASGT and LCY-2 Harness with an ALICE system. An M4 Carbine was on the main console as he drove through the empty night street of the city. After rolling through the neighborhoods multiple times, he comes to pass a large Hotel named Five Seasons. The pretty lady in the reception area tilts her head as she sees the Woodland Camouflage Humvee that was no way Civilian Spec stopped at the road. Lowering her head to see it better as the tarp from its grand entrance was blocking the rest of the vehicle, she sees that it has a mounted M2 Browning from the top and its driver in full combat uniform.
After a second, it continued driving. Little did she know it went around and into the alleyway behind the Hotel. The soldier opens his door and drops a team of toy US Navy SEALs. He then closes the door and drives off into another alleyway. Hiding in complete darkness. The four small figurines became animated and started tactically walking to the back door.
“This Alpha Team insertion is complete.”
“Roger Alpha Team. Good luck.”
The 1/12 sized Action Navy SEAL Figures wait for a chance. One of them sees that there’s an emergency staircase. The Team Leader shakes and tells them all to hold. Inside, one of the bag boys is preparing to call it a night when violently banging is heard at the alleyway door. This spooks him and makes him run to the front desk to take a look at the cameras. To his surprise, there was no one there.
“What is it?”
“Didn’t you hear the banging?”
“It might just be a Hobo again looking for food. The camera’s show nothing.”
“No, that banging was way too loud to be normal.”
“Hey Sam. Can you escort Scaredy Cat here?”
The Entrance Guard spins his Titanium Flashlight, showing off his skill with the device. “C’mon, if anyone tries to touch you, Daddy’s got your back.” The baggage boy just heads to the back, with his adrenaline running. Packing his things, the Guard opens the door first. With the blindingly powerful torch. “Yep, ain’t nothing here.” Behind one of the trash cans, the AOR Camouflage Action Figures stayed silent as the baggage boy left and hopped into his bike. “Don’t get lost now.” he just does a middle finger as the young kid turns left into the sidewalk and away from the dark alleyway.
With the mission accomplished, the guard closes the door and heads back to his position. Proudly whistling to him. As he disappeared through the hall and back at the reception area, the Corpsman on the Navy SEAL team opened the lock with a Multitool. The Action Figures were all in full size and were real actual Operators. They peer through the hall and look at the Reception area, it has no people as rain starts pouring outside. The Rifleman of the team takes a cloth from the shelf and sneaks up behind the reception lady as the Guard went outside to remove the tarp as the wind was starting to pick up. Unable to scream, she’s dragged behind the Reception area, surrounded by four heavily armed and well equipped SEALs.
“We need the keycard to Room 10, Floor 55.”
Not questioning the Operators, she nods and gives them her key to the vault with the All Access Keycard. Leaving one Operator to guard her, the Squad Leader heads to the Security Room and unlocks the Office Vault. Taking the Red Keycard with “FOR EMERGENCY USES ONLY” written on it. He then gestures for them to move forward and leave the woman alone, the Security Guard who was wet from the heavy rain outside grunts, puffing angrily his well ironed uniform is now all wet down to the shirt. He looked at the Reception area and could see four Operators decked out in AOR Camouflage and armed with SCARs and SOPMOD IIs shouting at him to get down.
“WOAH, WOAH, WOAH! I HAVE NO DRUGS!”
As he gets zip tied and down on the ground, they take his Taser and Glock. “Is there a Drug Lord here? Like, I don’t know anyone and anything. I’m just a guard.”
They ignore him and leave him at the door all still wet and the ceiling air conditioner directly at him. “Hey, Spec Ops guys, can’t you at least move me? It’s getting pretty cold here.” They wait for the Elevator, selecting Floor 54. It arrives and they ride it up. The glass gave them a full view of the modern Metropolis, where even at night, so many lights are still on. They perform some checks on their equipment after a bit of admiration on the view, making sure they’re fully equipped for the encounter. *Ping!* The elevator arrives one floor below their target and they take the emergency staircase, checking every corner. At Floor 55, they see that Room 10 is on the very end. It was all high rise suites, only meant for the richest tenants of the building.
Moving through the marble tiles of the floor, their heavy boots echo through the entire hall, approaching Room 10, they plant explosives on the door. Inside it, the Hitman, who was a Caucasian male, balding and in his sweater and comfy jeans could see the shadows from the light of the hallway, he immediately closes his laptop noticing that they’re about to breach the room from the thud. Jumping behind his Sofa as he grabs a USP from underneath one of the pillows and points it at the door.
Bang, the door flies inward, into the room. He immediately opens fire into the hall,after dumping some lead. Surprised nobody has stormed in, suddenly a Flashbang is thrown into the Living Room. He immediately dashes into cover, changing mags midway. “These guys are trained, Police? No, they would’ve already sent choppers and another team would be coming from the balcony. Tsk, I’ve made way too many enemies.” He pops out of cover and starts spraying the hall once again, not letting the SEALs get in. Picking up his Laptop, the Hitman makes his way to the Master Bedroom. There, he throws the mattress onto the floor. Revealing a secret cache of weapons underneath it.
Meanwhile the Operators storm into the room, with their laser and flashlights lighting up the dark living room. Checking covers, they stop midway. Not walking into the door of the Master’s Bedroom. Behind it, the Hitman is armed with an AR-15 and is pointing right at the door. Waiting for the Knob to move, giving him the indication there on the other side. Performing hand signs, an Operator plants another breaching charge. On the other side, he heard the thud and ran into cover again.
Bang, his bedroom door is sent flying inwards followed by a flashbang. This time, it was thrown perfectly near the bed frame. Dazing him, he blindly fires while rushing to his balcony. One of the Operators peers out of his cover and shoots him once in the shoulder, wounding him. But thanks to his adrenaline, the Hitman kept going and firing as he reached his Balcony. There, he flips some of the sun chairs and tables. So far, he couldn’t get a glimpse of the people after him as he rips his sleeves and uses it to tie up his wound. In an Air Traffic Control center, one of the Controllers spins his chair around. “Uhhhh… guys. I am detecting an unknown aircraft within the Metropolitan Area. Near the park.”
As he hears the boots of the Operators in the wooden floor of his bedroom, he rushes around the balcony, there he could see the silhouette of one of the Operators as they barge into his room. His eyes couldn’t believe it. “Are those fucking SEALs?! Why SEALs? Did I steal anything from the Government? But I don’t take contracts dealing with them.” He opens his smartphone and contacts someone. “I got a Fireteam of SEALs in my apartment. Got any news about the Government looking into us?”. He moves around into the living room part of the Balcony as the Operators check the one outside his room.
“What? SEALs? Are you sure? Did you make friends with some ISIS bomb maker?”
“No and this isn’t funny. These guys are rocking Crye vest and are in desert AOR camos. I think the main guy is rocking a scar.”
“Well, I suggest just putting your hands up. If the US Government sent in a bunch of seals for one guy, then you're sure as dead.”
“C’mon, at least send me a pick up.”
“I will old friend. Just make sure you reach the parking garage.”
Closing his smartphone, the Hitman tries to go around them. Not engaging the Operators as they get close, he makes a mad dash to the Elevator. Hearing the sliding door open and the blown door getting cracked as he runs over it, the SEALs put their weapons up and attempt to catch the man. But having nothing other than jeans and a sweater, the trained Hitman gives them the slip and manages to get into an Elevator, spooking the Guard who was about to visit his room to check on what’s happening.
The Operators then call the second elevator, pressing the button once as they take a breather from the fast pace action.
“Warhorse to Alpha Team, we’re currently in station, over.”
“Copy Warhorse. HVT is riding the elevator, care to put a few rounds into him?”
“Roger that Alpha. Keep your pants on.”
A V-22 Osprey Tiltrotor Helicopter descends upon the Hotel, getting closer to the elevator the Hitman is taking. He is on the phone, talking to someone when its spotlight shines on him. Blinding the man.
“They sent a fucking Osprey after me!”
“I told you, I got nothing. My contacts in the Army said they sent no one and there’s no SEAL teams around these parts. Let alone a Marine Osprey.”
“Well, I am telling you I’m looking at a tiltrotor chopper with its spotlights aimed at me.”
“Yea, I can hear it. Are you sure it’s not just some civilian chopper?”
The M134 Minigun underneath the fuselage opens fire. Riddling the elevator with bullets and killing the Hitman with extreme prejudice. As the elevator reached the first floor, two Operators came and picked up his smartphone from his dead corpse, riddled with bullets while the other two ransacked his room. Taking all folders, devices and files they could find, they then ran to the 56th floor where a Helipad was located and the SEALs were extracted from the scene.
A nearby Bell 206 Police Helicopter was sent to check on the scene after the ATC reported an unknown helicopter and automatic fire were heard and was met with a shocking scene of a bunch of Spec Ops soldiers boarding a tiltrotor chopper as it flew into the darkness of the night. They wanted to catch it, but it put the rotors down. The old chopper could never catch up to it. Soon, the men on the ATC are left baffled as its signatures just disappeared from its radar.
On the docks, an old 80s era US Army Humvee in pristine condition stops at one of the Piers, picking up four 1/12 size US Navy SEALs and an all metal USMC V-22 Osprey toy. Sirens are heard as Police are dispatched to the last known location of the chopper and when they arrive, they’re met with nothing. Absolutely baffled at what just occurred that night.