Snippet #1826882

That Night

After watching the area closely and checking and rechecking his weapons, mentally running through a hundred simulations, it was finally time to move in. Valentine exited the car and moved over to the gate, where a man stood watch, the bulge of a pistol visible under his jacket. Valentine snapped up his ACR and opened fire with a short, suppressed burst of 6.8mm rounds. The man dropped soundlessly.

Slinging the ACR over his back and drawing his handgun, he climbed over the gate, dropping another two members of the cartel who were talking near the front door, one bullet to the skull each. He knew that bypassing the security system was nigh-impossible - especially while retaining a comfortable amount of firepower - so he had decided on the simplest plan of all; going in the front door.

Ahead of him lay a two-story house. He knew that the drug lord would likely be on the top floor in his office, and he'd counted ten cartel members on the premises, plus the lord's wife and possibly his lawyer. He'd have to bring them all down silently; once inside the house, the suppressed gunfire would echo off the walls, alerting everyone to his presence. He lowered his gun and drew his KM2000 knife, holding it backhanded. No moonlight glinted off its carbon-black blade.

Getting inside would be difficult, however, so he took the logical explanation - ringing the doorbell. The man who answered was with the cartel, and was rapidly dispatched as the knife cut his throat. Valentine closed the door behind him and ducked into the kitchen as he heard footsteps from the top floor.

(Tried to handle this as realistically as possible.)