Snippet #2414590

The phone taps and surveillance teams all reported that the targeted group was to make a move tonight. The man was ready. What these kids did to piss off his employers, well, that was just none of his business, but whatever it was... it must have been huge. His services did not come cheap, nor did the extensive web, heh... web, of contacts and informants that were all keeping eyes peeled. See, no matter how super secret you think you are... you leave ripples in the pond when you swim. The Spiders were good at staying deep... but they came up for air sometimes, and these watchers knew what to look for.

Slapping a mag into his TAR-21 he racked the slide. With care he eyeballs the scope, a fairly high-end reflex combat model, and adjusts the mounted CQC Flashlight. Almost religious care goes into the screwing on of the silencer and the application of a slight greasing along the working bits of the compact assault rifle. "Ah, see, that is exactly what was needed. A little lube makes everything better. Heh.."

See, what the targets didn't know was the location of their own mission... was preplanned. It was no accident that their target had made himself easy pickings in that exact club, that he had been 'overheard' and 'seen' in public. It was all perfectly planned. The Spiders thought they were catching a fly in their webbing, while it was them just tangling themselves in a hell-storm in the making. The walls of the club's dance area had been spackled with a light coating of a C-4 compound, while the decorative 'silver spheres' set about knee high as a border were simply ball bearings. The dance floor was nothing more than an inside-out claymore. When the time was right.. boom. Collateral damage was allowed. These Spiders were too dangerous to let escape.

911 calls in the area would be redirected to a phone booth in Southwest Michigan. There would be no party-poopers tonight. As soon as the bombs trigger a van parked outside would activate a compact EMP, silencing all the electronics for about two blocks; thank you for not ruining the show with your cell phone, snacks are in the lobby.

He would either be inside already or waiting for stragglers to try and escape. He hadn't decided yet. Either would be fun. Back-up was a team of ex-SEAL and Rangers, finest money could buy. They would be armed and ready; a few even decked out in civilian clothes and mixing with the club goers. This operation had cost several million dollars to fund. If it fucked up... well, heads would roll. Literally.