chapter seven

Tim McGee was a very smart man, no one who knew him denied it. He was also a product of his upbringing. His father was an Admiral, old school Navy, and had raised him in a way that produced a reticent, hesitant person who was unsure of acceptance. But he had a PhD in Biomechanical Engineering, amongst others. And one of his interests was motion analysis. So he applied his expertise to the problem at hand.

"Excuse me. Does anyone have any footage of Badger's team training? I need to see a successful operation." He waited until someone got loose from what they were doing and came over to him.

"Exactly what do you need? We've got door knocking, fast roping, you name it we've got it or can get it." The seaman just waited for McGee to tell him what he needed.

"Not sure exactly what I need. The team is supposed to cut a lock on a gate and enter, stealth. But they're tripping all over each other. I need to see something similar to what they're doing now." McGee was beginning to see the problem already.

"No gates. If there's a gate, we usually FRIES them in." The tech waited again.

"Ok, I think I've already got an idea what the problem is. FRIES footage and door knocking, please." McGee settled at a station and waited while the footage was acquired and downloaded into his station.

McGee watched footage until his eyes felt like they were filled with sand. Then he watched it all again. He wasn't surprised by the hand that offered eye-drops over his shoulder.

"Here, dude, you're going to ruin your eyes at this rate. Why don't you take a break, get some coffee, take a walk? You'll come back better for it."

McGee nodded. "Thanks. I think you're right. I've watched all the footage and I think I see a pattern, but I really need a motion analysis. I've got a program. I'll just load everything and take a break while the footage is analyzed." McGee stuck a flash drive from his pocket into the USB port. "I'll need an authorization to upload my program. Who do I need?"

The tech told him to wait and hurried away. Captain McKinley showed up in seconds. "Ok, Special Agent McGee; what, exactly, do you need?"

"I need authorization to upload a motion analysis program that I wrote myself. I need to analyze several hundred seconds of footage to see why LeBeau, Scorpion and Cobra are tripping all over each other. It's not that hard an entry. I've done it myself, with Gibbs and DiNozzo. Easy-peasy, as you guys say." McGee glowered at the monitor as if it had personally offended him.

"I see. Ok, I'll enter my personal authorization code." The Captain did that and wandered away, grumbling about security freaks.

McGee uploaded his program then started the analysis. He shoved away from his keyboard and headed for the mess for coffee. He hoped there might be a doughnut or two in his near future.

There was, as someone had found out about his love of apple spice doughnuts, and they left off those damn sprinkles. The only coffee shop that made the kind of apple spice that he liked insisted on covering them with sprinkles, in fruit flavors. The Culinary Specialist that served him smiled as he handed over three of the treats, saying, "Thought you'd be needing a break soon. Here. No icing, just shook up in some sugar. Need anything else?"

McGee grinned back. "No, coffee and I'm good to go. If you've got any experts in time/motion analysis, that'd be good."

The CS got a funny look on his face for a moment then replied, "If you're serious ... yes, we have one." At McGee's thunder struck expression he explained, "We do time/motion all the time. We have to get up at Zero Fucking Thirty to get ready for breakfast at 0600, anything we can do to cut prep time is a blessing. Ten minutes extra in the sack is a God send."

McGee took a bite out of one doughnut and mumbled around it, "Send him to that table. I want a few questions answered and a time/motion specialist might have them." He ambled away to the coffee pot then settled at a table to enjoy his treats and coffee while he waited.

It didn't take long for the time/motion expert to show up. The expert turned out to be a small, female Petty Officer named Glory Frak. When she introduced herself she gave McGee a 'don't even' look that made him shut his mouth on the first comment that popped into his head. Instead, he pointed to a seat and said, "Sit down, please." he then told her his problem and what he hopped to accomplish.

Her reply was all he'd hoped. "Ok, time and motion studies aren't usually applied to combat so let me see if I have this straight. You have a four man team that's worked together successfully for several years, but now, they're in each other's way and tripping all over. So, first; what's different? What's the same? How is this different from successful missions? I'll have to take a look at ... footage at least. I'd rather observe them in action in the field. But ... we'll see." she frowned into the coffee a sailor had brought her.

McGee just shrugged. "If you want to observe, I'll take you down to the mockup tomorrow. I have a ton of footage. I'm running an analysis right now. I'll show you anything I have. But, while time is not yet of the essence, it's coming to a crunch fairly soon."

"I'll be right on it. Excuse me, sir."

She started to get up but paused when McGee said, "Don't call me sir, I'm not an officer."

"Ok, what do I call you."

"Digimon is good. Special Agent McGee or Tim, is ok too." He returned his attention to his doughnuts and coffee, absently waving her on her way.

.

Gibbs aimed at the targets set up for him. One shot and he turned to Ziva. "Good?"

"Yes. You are right on target. Why did you say we had an afternoons work?" Ziva wasn't complaining, she just wanted to know what Gibbs was up to.

"Not sayin' it's gonna happen, but, what if I go down? You need to be able to take up the slack." Gibbs watched Ziva for a moment.

Ziva, for her part, just smirked. "As you wish. I haven't had a chance to shoot this particular type of rifle enough." She got her rifle out and set it up. Gibbs took her place at the spotters scope.

Ziva had been pleased to see her go bag and rifle case when she'd woken up that morning. Her rifle was the same as Gibbs', which meant that she'd only shot that model a few times. This one was hers and, if she had to, she'd fight to keep it after this op was over. For now, all she wanted to do was get used to this one, in case she needed it.

Gibbs nodded to her and put his eyes to the scope. "Go."

Ziva eased back on the trigger, the rifle went off and Gibbs said, "High and right. One click down, three left."

"Three?" Ziva was a bit upset that she was that far off.

"Face is a lot narrower than a man's." Gibbs went back to his scope while Ziva made the adjustments.

The next shot was nearly perfect. Ziva examined it through her scope while Gibbs did calculations on a pad of paper. He finished with a sharp scratch of lead on paper. "Ok, one more click left ought to do it, factoring for the wind and whatnot."

Ziva made her adjustment and took her shot. She was pleased with this one and Gibbs gave a satisfied grunt. She started putting her equipment away without comment. There was nothing much to say after all.

.

Tony eyed his team. "Ok, I know I'm hard on you. Anyone have a complaint?" He waited.

Cosmo just shook his head. "No, and you know it. I'd rather run 'til I puke than get captured. And ... just for the record. I'd rather have you as a CO than anyone else. So calm down."

Tony glanced from man to man. Remy just grinned at him, while Dean nodded once. "Ok. So ... what the hell?"

"Don't know. And we need to get a handle on this Charlie Foxtrot ASAP." Remy looked around. "Ideas?"

Heads shook, shoulders shrugged and they all looked at each other in frustration.

Tony decided, "Ok, we'll take a break until in the morning. Everyone tank up, Cosmo, you especially." Cosmo winced while everyone else looked at him sympathetically.

"Ok, AJ. you got it. Gatorade?" He fished hopefully in their cooler, exclaiming happily when he found several bottles of his favorite flavor. "Dibs on all the grape." since no one else liked grape, no one called him on it.

.

The next morning they assembled near the mockup and McGee introduced them to his expert. "Gentlemen, this is Petty Officer Glory Frak. She is a motion analysis expert, working in food services. I expect you to treat her with respect as she tries to help us with this ... mess." He waited for rude comments from someone but didn't get any.

Tony eyed the woman for a moment then just barked, "Report already."

She braced and saluted, received appropriate salutes back and cleared her throat before beginning. "Thank you, sirs. What we have here is an incompatibility of motion..." She trailed off at the puzzled expressions. Since she was used to this from her contacts with Culinary Specialists, she just waved her hand and continued. "In other words, your body is expecting to do one thing and you're doing something else. Now, I don't exactly understand what the correlation between what you usually do and what you're doing now is, so I'd like to watch an actual dry run. That way I can try to get an idea of what is going wrong." She stopped talking and just waited.

Tony glanced around at his men and, getting nods from them all, told the Petty Officer, "Sounds like a plan. Let's go." he nodded to her uniform, "Might want to change into blueberrys, that service won't take to the field very well."

"Sir, yes sir. At once, sir." Tony sighed as the woman hurried off to change from her beige blouse and olive green skirt into blueberrys, thank goodness she lived in barracks on base. He knew he was a Lieutenant Commander and deserved the respect she showed but he hated being blindly sir-ed. He shook it off and led the way into the mockup.

"Ok, everyone in your places. We'll wait for PO Frak in position."

At Tony's command, they all took their places in the stack at the gate. At Tony's request, Ziva and Gibbs stayed. They weren't the problem but, perhaps, their input could help figure out what was going on.

They held place for nearly 20 minutes until PO Frak showed up. She trotted up, slightly out of breath but ready to do her duty.

"Gentlemen, if you will?" She moved to an area where she could see everyone.

Tony nodded then barked, "Entry! Now!" and they fell all over themselves again.

Ziva looked at Gibbs, puzzled. It looked like a simple entry to her, cut the chain on the gate, open it and go in. But they were falling all over each other. Gibbs scowled back at her. He was lost too.

But PO Frak nodded to herself. "Ok, I think I see the problem but ... would it be too much trouble to see a usual entry?"

Tony shook his head. "No. We've got a building mock up over there." He pointed to a simple sheet metal building, sometimes referred to as a 'pole built' building. "Come on."

They formed up again. This time, instead of a bolt cutter, Remy held a 'door knocker' in his hands. A door knocker is a simple steel tube filled with shot with handles on it. A flat plate on one end provides an impact point. The Knocker swings the tube against a door, breaking it down in one or two blows.

Tony gave the command and, like the well oiled machine they were, they accomplished entry in seconds. Remy knocked the door open in one blow then stepped out of the way, moving across the door while Tony, Dean and Cosmo entered, covering each other. Remy dropped the knocker out of the way, drew his weapon and followed, covering their backs. And that was the problem.

PO Frak nodded to herself as she watched. When they had accomplished a smooth, perfect entry, she had seen what everyone else failed to. She hesitantly called the group together then cleared her throat. She was used to working with cooks, Culinary Experts, wait staff and that sort of thing. This bunch of fierce eyed, hard bodied men made her nervous.

Tony, realizing what her problem was, said, "Ok, you animals, sit down, give the lady your attention."

This made it a bit worse, in one way; as the undivided, laser like regard of four SEALs, an ex-Scout Sniper and a beautiful woman with eyes like blued steel was most disconcerting. It was better, in that they weren't looming over her like - she wasn't sure what.

"Well, um ..." She cleared her throat again. She jumped when someone offered her a bottle of water then took it. "Thank you." She drank, looked down then gathered herself. They needed her help and she was going to give it. "I think I can see what the problem is. We call it muscle memory. See ... when you train to do something your body becomes used to doing things that way, it makes it easier to do things efficiently. Your body knows what to do, so you can think of other things..."

Cosmo laughed then said, "Yeah, like not getting your ass blown off."

Tony barked, "Shut it!" then returned his attention to the PO.

PO Frak just nodded. "Exactly. So, your body is expecting you to do one thing, but you're telling it to do another. So ... I think, if you change positions, it will break up that dynamic. But you're going to have to train like crazy to break the habits. I don't think it will affect the dynamic you already use for ... er ... door knocking. It'll just teach you a new dynamic, as each person will be doing a different job."

Remy whined, "Aw, AJ, more training? Really? Man." He dragged the last word out like a little kid.

Tony snorted, "Shut up. LeBeau, you're a whiny little bitch. Suck it up."

But both Cosmo and Dean started bitching too. Tony let them go for a bit then barked at them to shut up and get with the program.

PO Frak looked at all of them like they'd lost their minds. Ziva couldn't resist. She sidled up to the horrified Petty Officer and said, softly, "Don't let all the whining and kvetching fool you. They're not being disrespectful or insubordinant. They're just letting off ... how do you say it? Storm?"

"You mean steam?"

"Yes, that is it. They are letting off steam. They have been frustrated, now they have much work to do. Excuse me, Gibbs is signaling me." Ziva went to see what Gibbs wanted.

Gibbs nodded at the PO. "She ok?"

"Yes, just a bit ... put up by the reaction. I explained." Ziva looked justifiably satisfied with herself. "I think McGee should escort her back to her workstation."

Gibbs corrected, "Put out. I'll escort her. You stay here. Now that we know what to look for, you can lend an eye. McGee stays as handler." He got up and ambled over to the Petty Officer. No one was fooled for a second, he wanted coffee.

PO Frak accepted the escort with a slight smile. "Yes, thank you. I know you Marines and your ulterior motives."

Gibbs eyed her, startled, and a bit indignant. "Ulterior motives?" he wondered, rather blankly, exactly what she was implying.

"Yes. All you're really interested in is getting into my coffee pot." She laughed softly at his thunderstruck expression. "Marines. Really." She trotted off with Gibbs at her heels.

While Gibbs escorted the PO back to her office, unashamedly scavenging a cup of coffee from her in the process, McGee got with Tony to discuss changing roles in the stack.

"Ok, Remy usually breaks down the door. Why don't we put him on the left side, with Dean behind him. You breach the gate, with Cosmo behind you. You cut the chain then put the cutters aside while Cosmo covers you. Remy and Dean will go straight through the gate to cover your entry. After that, it's all according to plan." McGee looked satisfied with the idea, his voice had sounded though all their earwigs so everyone knew the plan.

A voice, easily identified as Remy, said, "And you know how plans go."

Cosmo nodded wisely. "Yeah, no plan survives first contact with the enemy. But, it is a plan. Let's go."

Tony nodded, McGee gave the command and they started. Tony cut the lock then stepped away to the right. Remy charged the gate with Dean right behind him. Tony followed with Cosmo on his heels. The entry was clean, quick and silent.

McGee announced, "Good. Again." So they did it again. And again.

At sometime during the eight run throughs, Gibbs returned. They did one more run through for him then sat down for a critique.

Gibbs started, "I didn't see any problems. You've got it down pat. But, don't get cocky, things can go sideways in a second."

Ziva nodded, "This is true, but I saw no problems. How was communication with McGee?"

McGee answered that. "Communication was 5x5. I can hear everyone and I know your voices. But ... you might still want to identify yourselves for safety's sake."

Tony nodded. "Right. If we have to include locals, that's a must. Don't want a friendly fire incident. The last one was a bitch."

Every SEAL nodded their agreement, various expressions of dismay crossing their faces.

They spent the next hour analyzing every facet of their mission, looking for flaws or oversights. They didn't find anything so they broke up the meeting to get something to eat and a little rest. They knew that other arrangements were being made but trusted their support team to do the necessary things.

.

It took two more days to get everything in order; days that vacillated between boredom and frantic activity. Gibbs didn't have the patience for the smoozing, as he called it, that was necessary to get the locals, Navy and NCIS in sync but Tony, or Lieutenant Commander 'call me AJ' DiNozzo, did.

Gibbs wondered, rather vaguely, how the hell they were going to coordinate a bunch of civilian locals into what was primarily a military operation. He didn't want anyone getting killed, civilian cop or Navy SEAL. This was the primary reason he hated dealing with locals, they didn't understand the military mindset, never mind that most police departments were quasi military in organization. This meant that they got in the way, destroyed or contaminated evidence and, in general, interfered.

McGee and Ziva just ignored this part of the op as not within their purview. McGee actually told Ziva, "I'm glad I don't have to deal with that. Glad handing isn't my favorite thing." Then he'd had to spend five minutes explaining 'glad handing' to Ziva. It had served to pass some time.

Tony was in his element. He was a natural politician, his easy way and natural diplomacy came in handy when handling touchy locals, no matter if they were Afghani, Iraqi - or American. He had the Sheriff in his pocket, so to speak.

Gibbs watched him as he smiled at the man. The Sheriff was in his late 50's, an elected official and genial.

"Hell, boy. Don't care what you do. Just get that bunch of nut-balls out of my county. They've been nothing but trouble for the last four years or so. Scare off tourists, harass the locals, tear up the countryside with their war games and, in general, a pain in my nether regions." He shook his head. "Not to mention a few disappearances that I'd like to connect them to. But ... I'll just be glad if you move them out." He turned to lean on the bed of a pickup truck next to Gibbs. "So, what do you want from me?"

Gibbs rubbed his face. "I'm just a grunt here. Ask DiNozzo, he's in charge of this op. SEALs are the lead here."

"I see." The Sheriff gave Gibbs a sympathetic look. "Hard to hand over the reins, isn't it?"

Gibbs grimaced. "It is. But he actually out ranks me by ten pay grades. I'm a Gunnery Sergeant, retired and he's an active service Lieutenant Commander, US Navy SEAL."

Sheriff Mackintosh grimaced. "But ... I thought you're his boss."

"In NCIS, I am. He's my SFA, I'm Senior Agent." Gibbs watched as a group of deputies started loading things on ATV's.

"How's that workin' out?" The Sheriff looked genuinely interested.

"Not too bad. We seem to be able to compartmentalize fairly well. Doesn't hurt that Tony doesn't give a damn, anymore than I do." Gibbs allowed himself a small, satisfied smile.

"Tony? Thought his name was AJ?"

Gibbs snorted, then drawled, "Anthony Dominic DiNozzo, Junior, actually. Never knew he preferred to be called AJ until recently. I'm still gettin' used to it."

The Sheriff jerked up from his lean on the tailgate of the pickup they were leaning on, swearing. "Jesus Christ on a cracker. Those boys'll get their stupid selves killed yet." He rushed off to keep someone from putting too much weight on the back of an ATV and none on the front. Gibbs shook his head, probies were the same all over, NCIS or some sheriff's office.

Then Dean came over with coffee. He handed Gibbs a cup and sighed, "Damn, Cos is bitching again. Remy is gettin' ready to hand him his head. AJ better go talk to him."

Gibbs pointed. "Already is. What's his problem?"

Dean shrugged, "Doesn't like civvies in an op. Makes him nervous, that makes him bitchy."

"Oh." Gibbs thought that over for a second. "Me too."

Dean grinned, "I know. But at least you don't act like a whiny little bitch. He's singin' soprano. He doesn't get a grip soon, AJ's gonna kick his ass."

Gibbs, well aware that Cos' attitude was a put on, asked, "And what's behind all that?"

Dean gave Gibbs a sad look, "Lost about half his old platoon because he didn't listen to his gut. Now, he's all out of whack. He'll get better, or he won't. PTSD's a bitch."

"Bad?" Gibbs knew plenty of men with PTSD in one form or another. He didn't even deny he had it. But he needed to know what triggers to avoid.

"No, just makes him bitchy before an op." Dean heaved himself off the tailgate and ambled away to deal with something or other.

Remy was the next to show. The big man leaned against the back wheel well and gazed at Gibbs for a few seconds. "How's this gonna work?"

Gibbs didn't even pretend not to know what Remy was taking about. "Easy. He orders, I do. If we were in an NCIS op, it'd be the other way around. Tony's not stupid and neither am I." He looked into his empty cup then pinned Remy with a cold, blue stare. "You just watch his back. Or I'll be speaking to you again."

Remy nodded. "I've always got his six. Everyday in every way. Just like you've got it, and he's got yours."

And last, but not least, Cosmo showed up. Gibbs accepted the coffee he offered and smirked into the cup as Cos immediately began to bitch.

"Damnit, Gunny, why the hell do we have to have a bunch of civvies in on this? They'll just get in the way, get hurt, or get us hurt. And then they'll claim all the glory. Not that I need glory or any more medals, but still. It's just not right." His whiny tone of voice grated on Gibbs.

"Well, take a deep breath and get over it. I don't like it any better than you do. I hate having civilians, or cops, or the Febbies in the middle of any op. But, we're kinda stuck with 'em." Gibbs' sour expression seemed to touch something in Cosmo.

"Well, the last time I got civvies in an op, I lost everything. And I do mean everything. Except my life. Don't like this and I'm not gonna shut up about it." Cos got that stubborn expression that told Gibbs all he needed to know. Cosmos was on the screaming edge of a melt down.

"Easy there, cowboy, don't let DiNozzo hear you. He'll take you on the mats." Gibbs hoped this was the right approach.

Turned out that it was. "Oh, no! No mats! Sorry I said a word."

Gibbs smirked at him. "No, you're not. You're just sorry I called you on it. But ..." He finished his coffee. "I don't think we're going to have to actually worry about anyone gettin' in our way. Exactly what have you been told?"

"Smoke 'em out ... Oh. We go in, take down the main building. The one's most likely to be our guys, and most likely to actually put up resistance. The rest will rabbit ... right into the hands of the waiting deputies." He sighed softly. "Great. I like it."

Gibbs smiled, "I'm goin' for coffee."

Cos snorted softly, then whispered, "In other words. My job here is done. Ooo-rah."

Gibbs got more coffee from the sandwich truck that had shown up at the 'secret' HQ that the Sheriff had set up.

Tony ambled over to get a bottle of water, mumbled, "Some top secret op, huh, Boss?"

Gibbs sighed. "Yeah. But ... you'd be surprised how quiet this sort of small town can be about something. I get the feeling that the only reason that compound hasn't been raided before now is, they couldn't find a reason. Bet everyone and his dog knows about this ... except the people who might warn our targets."

Tony nodded, "Forgot you grew up in a town like this."

Gibbs eyed the approaching Sheriff with some ire. "Yes, I did."

The big sheriff slowed down at the sight that greeted him. The hesitation was natural, nothing like having the combined power of two psychologically powerful men glowering at you to put you off.

"Well, here we are." Sheriff Mackintosh sighed. "I know what you're thinkin'. Don't. No one outside this compound knows anything. It's not easy keeping an operation like this one secret but we want that buncha nut balls gone. So, those who know, aren't talking; those who'd talk, don't know. So relax and quit lookin' at me like you'd like ta eat me."

Tony laughed softly. "Sorry. We're used to working in a slightly different environment."

The Sheriff nodded. "You really got one of those eyeball scanner things to get into ... what did you call it? MTAC?"

Gibbs chuckled into his coffee. "Sure do. And a finger print scanner that checks for body temp. Very high tec. And, if you want to know more about it than that, you'll have to ask McGee."

Tony nodded. "Yeah, very. But that's not what I'm talking about. Half the team is SEAL, Ziva's Mossad-trained, Gibbs was a Scout Sniper, McGee's the only one without military experience. That's why he's communications and data collection. And he's so good with computers that he can make one do the Macarena. He's grass in an operation like this one."

Sheriff Macintosh blinked, "Grass?" his tone of voice made the question obvious.

"Green and bound to be walked on. He's a good man, but his lack of experience makes him a danger to himself and others."

McGee's voice from behind them made them jump. "Thanks for the good man. But I am a danger in the stack, just like Ziva would be. I'm content to do what I can. And on that note. We've got the green light. You need to be geared up and ready at dusk." he looked at his watch. "Two hours, gentlemen."

Tony surged up from his lean, jerking his body erect in one quick move. "Sheriff, you need to collect your deputies and get them organized. We're relying on you to collect the perps and keep them in hand. Hope you've got enough men."

Sheriff Macintosh just shrugged. "I do. I've called in both auxiliary officers and a few volunteers. The Highway Patrol is on hand too."

Tony nodded. "Good, good. I knew you could do it. How many full time deputies do you have?"

The sheriff looked tired all of a sudden. "Well, since my nephew took off, two." he perked up a bit as he went on, "One of 'em's my second cousin's oldest, the other's my youngest brother. We work well together. The two auxiliary officers are some sort of cousin. They're over there with the boys." he smirked. "One of the reasons I knew I could trust 'em not to blab. Mom'd be after 'em all with her spoon."

McGee made a face then trotted off to the 'portable' MTAC trailer to take his place and check on the last of his job. He had put off issuing earwig compatible radios until last minute.

Tony took a small package from a pocket and popped it into his mouth; the resultant crunch made the sheriff jump.

"What the ...?"

Gibbs eyed Tony for a moment. "What hurts?"

"Mostly everything." Tony grinned, "Gettin' old for this job. During an op, I live on SEAL milk and grunt candy."

Gibbs made a sympathetic face. He knew full well how it felt.

Tony was still a young man, but he was older for a SEAL. And the injuries he'd acquired over the years didn't help.

At the sheriff's still puzzled expression, Tony explained further. "I wrap analgesic pills in edible rice paper then put them in a ziplock baggie, it's called grunt candy as most Marines and all SEALs live on the stuff. That and SEAL milk."

"Ok, I get the grunt candy but what the hell's SEAL milk."

Gibbs and Tony both said, "Coffee!"

The sheriff chuckled deep in his chest and declared, "I should have known. Most cop shops run on it too. Brain fuel." He ambled off to join his assigned group.

It didn't take long for everyone to get into place. McGee checked on positioning then told them, "Mission Green. That's a go."

The SEAL's popped the gate without a hitch and moved in. It didn't take them more an a second or two to reach the target building. Then all hell broke loose.

The first sign the terrorists had that something was going on was the sound of an unsilenced Highway Patrol chopper over head. The chopper had been warmed up and waiting in a valley nearby. Its FLIR would send pictures to McGee who would then radio information to the relevant team. This was all his idea as the signals were actually faster than satellite images.

Gibbs and Ziva had taken their place. They didn't really need snipers, they hoped, but they were in place just in case. And they were on the com so they could relay all their observations to McGee. Who knew what might be important. Now, they watched through their night vision binoculars as white patches moved around. The SEALs wore 'blipers' which flashed so that they knew who was who.

Gibbs watched as three unmarked targets moved quickly in their direction. "Ziver, we've got tango's approaching."

Ziva just grunted and drew her knife. Gibbs stood up to join her, telling McGee, "Got three coming our way."

McGee replied, "Got 'em. Your call."

"Not a problem. Lady Mossad and I can deal." Gibbs set himself.

The three 'men' turned out to be in their late teens and had no idea what they'd gotten themselves into. One look at Gibbs and they were on the ground, crying for their Mom. Ziva snorted in disgust. They hooked them up, stuffed them into a 'corner' and returned to their observation.

McGee watched as the tagged blobs moved to the target building. He could see other hot spots in nearby buildings. "There's three hots in structure six. Two in structure four. The HQ has seven." He waited while the SEALs closed in on the HQ. Three on the move from ... a tent. Viper and Lady Mo have them."

"Badger, we've got fourteen tangos to deal with. Ya gonna haveta make a call." Cos didn't sound happy.

Tony replied, "I know. Knock out, if you can. Otherwise, extreme prejudice. Not takin' a chance on losin' one of ours."

Various versions of 'got it' sounded over the com.

They moved into position at the only door to the building. Cos tossed a flash bang into the main room, they covered up and waited the two seconds until detonation. The bright flash of light and loud bang confused the men in the HQ but it also warned the other seven men that something was going on.

The seven men in the room jumped, stumbled or staggered to their feet, depending on how bad their hangover was. Only three of the seven were actually in any condition to fight. At Tony's hand signal, Remy pounced on the man closest to him.

This man was hungover so it didn't take Remy but a second to flip him onto his stomach and cuff him with flex cuffs. A quick blow to the head put him back out. He moved on to the second target assigned to him. Tony's quick hand gestures had assigned targets to all four of them.

While Remy was dealing with his targets, Cos, Dean and AJ were doing the same thing. Tony had assigned each man one drunk and one 'live' target. The surprise would allow them to deal with the drunks effectively. The alert targets would stay confused just long enough; he hoped.

His hope was to be disappointed. Of the three alert men, one crashed out the nearby window, yelling for help. The other two thought they were knife fighters.

AJ took on one while Dean took on the other. Dean's man was much bigger than he was, but he was a 'slash and stabber' while Dean was more of a 'wait and kill' sort. This meant that the terrorist danced around like a demented ninja, wearing himself out and showing Dean all his moves while Dean just stayed out of his way. This just made the man angry which allowed Dean an opening, which he took advantage of. Reversing his knife so that the hilt was to the fore, Dean thwacked his opponent in the temple with the pommel, knocking him out. It took him seconds to flex cuff him and return to help someone.

AJ had gotten one of the sort of knife fighter who just stood and waited for his opponent to do something first. AJ didn't go first so they just stood and looked at each other for a moment. Then AJ reversed his knife and threw it. It hit the terrorist, butt first, right between the eyes, he went down hard and didn't get up. AJ cuffed him. He turned just in time to nearly run into Dean. They grinned at each other without humor and each man took a quick look around.

Every man had taken care of his targets. No one was hurt, except the terrorists and they were all down and out for the count.

"Digimon? Our target is clear. SitRep."

"Badger. Confirm ... Your target is clear. Lady Mo and Viper have three. There's still eight tangos unaccounted for. Locations ... three on the move in your direction. Five headed into the arms of either the sheriff or HP. Be careful."

Various 'ok's answered this.

AJ motioned for the team to move out of the building, leaving their prisoners for later collection. They weren't going anywhere with their ankles flex cuffed.

The single door that had been an asset now turned into a liability. It was now a bottleneck which forced the SEALs to exit one at a time. But they bailed out, diving to one side or the other as fast as they could. The few shots that were aimed their way, missed.

All three terrorists thought that throwing ammo at the SEALs, on the spray and pray theory, would save them. They were wrong. The armor that all of the SEALs wore was proof up to heavy arms fire. Not to say that the impact wouldn't do some damage, but the group didn't have anything more than 9mms.

AJ took a round to the chest, right on the stab plate. It didn't penetrate even that far, but the impact was like being punched in the chest by a heavyweight. He gasped, doubled over for a second then ran on.

Dean wasn't quite as lucky, a round aimed at his head caught him in the forearm. He just ignored it, after the first swear word.

Remy and Cos escaped without injury, something they would hear about later; in detail, with whining.

Right now, though, they had much more important things to deal with.

Gibbs, watching carefully, snarled. This wasn't going according to plan, there were more men than expected and they were more scattered. Most of them headed for the gates, but a few had decided to put up a fight. They were headed for the HQ. He saw Tony stagger then regain his feet. "Ziver, spot me."

Ziva, who had been watching through the spotters scope, asked, "Targets?"

"Start at the back of the bunch." Gibbs turned to his scope.

Ziva checked then rechecked. "You are going to have to ... wing it. They are moving much too fast for me to help."

"Gotcha." Gibbs lined up and took his first shot. He was aiming for center body mass and hoping for anything. Not that he wasn't perfectly capable of hitting a moving target, just that he was hoping not to kill someone with intel. His shot was off just a bit so, instead of hitting him in the shoulder, he hit him in the chest. Wrong side for the heart but the bullet punctured a lung. Not so good for the terrorist. The medics would save his life, for him to go to Gitmo.

The entire operation took 10 minutes. The escapees were captured by the Sheriff and his Deputies or The Highway Patrol. The chopper hovered until McGee dismissed it then it tipped slightly as it returned to base, the pilot's cheerful, "See you on the ground, Digimon" signaling his acceptance of his dismissal.

Gibbs and Ziva made their way down to the compound to find Tony and the others.

When they reached the area, Gibbs could hear Tony swearing. "Damnit! He's such a shit magnet." Gibbs loped off in the direction of Tony's voice.

Ziva started to follow but McGee's voice in her ear asked, "Do we have a body count yet?"

"No." Ziva cast one longing look in the direction Gibbs had gone. "I'll start, shall I?"

"Please." McGee turned back to his monitors and readouts.

The mission was successful, the men they had captured would lead them to others. The Sheriff had promised that the compound would be 'sanitized'.

Tony had mumbled, "With a bulldozer." as he'd walked away.

The sheriff had chuckled and allowed, "Possible."

Gibbs reached Tony just as he got his body armor off. "DiNozzo?"

Tony just mumbled, "Ow. Fuck. Got hit in the chest, Boss."

Gibbs rubbed his face with one hand. He felt every second of the adrenalin overload he'd been under. "With what?" his bark made the medic look at him.

"9mm. I'm ok. Hit the stab plate. But it hurts like a mother fucker." Tony looked down, trying to get a look at the bruise blooming on his chest.

Gibbs got a good look. "Not that bad. Gonna be rainbow colored for a while."

Tony sighed, popped some grunt candy and leaned back on the tree the bench he was siting on was under. "Figured that. You ok?"

Gibbs nodded. "Yeah. Could use some Vitamin M. My knee's killing me." he accepted the offered packed and popped it into his mouth, after chewing loudly, he continued, "Twisted it. Got three tangoes at our position."

"Ouch. They accounted for?"

"Yeah. Turned them over to a couple of deputies before we came down."

Tony looked around. "Ziva?"

"Body count." Gibbs eyed Tony. "Where the hell is your earwig? You shouldn't have to ask all these questions."

Tony patted his neck, looking for the mentioned electronics. "I'm not sure. Should be right ..."

The medic reached to the side. "Here. I took it off you so I could get your vest off. Sorry. Didn't know you were still on line."

" 'S ok. Just need to talk to Digimon for a moment." Tony stuck the earwig back in his ear.

Gibbs listened unashamedly on his own as McGee filled them all in on the finish of the op.

"People. The compound is secured, I repeat, the compound is secured. Three targets secured from sniper point. Four from west gate. seven from HQ. eight from yard. two from main gate. Sweep commencing for unsecured escapees in surrounding area. Highway Patrol and Sheriffs Deputies are doing that on ATV's. Stand down."

And with that, it was all over. The SEALs were on standby, to be sure, but the rest of the op was to be left up to the locals. The prisoners would be turned over to Naval personnel, Shore Patrol, as soon as they were cleared by medics.

Gibbs turned as the Sheriff walked up.

"Well, wasn't that a hoot." Sheriff Macintosh grimaced, sarcasm evident. "Got you a squat. Not much, just the local B&B. Mildred is a nice woman an' she'll let you sleep yourselves out. Come on."

Tony groaned his way to his feet, leaning on Remy. "Need ta find Deano."

Gibbs nodded. "You head for the bus, I'll find Dean and bring him. Ziva too."

Cosmo was with Dean, who was hooked up to an IV while a medic tried to explain to him that he had to go to the hospital to be stitched up. Dean was in no mood to listen and was insisting that the medic stitch him up or give him a suture kit so he could do it himself. Gibbs put the k'bosh on that at once.

"Dean, don't be an idiot. Tony'll have your hide. Got to the ER. Call when you're sewn up and someone'll come get you." He helped the medics load the loudly protesting SEAL in to an ambulance, followed by Cosmo. He banged on the side of the ambulance when they were loaded to let the driver know he could go.

McGee, hearing the whole thing on the still open com line, let Tony know what was going on. Tony just thanked him and settled in the SUV to wait for Gibbs to come.

It didn't take long for the rest of the combined team to join him. Tony was a bit relieved to see that Remy was driving. He didn't think he could stand Gibbs, or worse, Ziva's driving right now.

Miz Mildred had run a B&B for over 20 years. She'd opened it with her ex-Army Ranger husband and continued on without him when he'd died of some mysterious disease five years later. She was still much the same as she'd been then. Tall, well set, straight backed and gimlet eyed; with a heart of gold. Her short, dark hair didn't show a trace of silver.

The Sheriff had told her to be ready for just about anything so she wasn't that put out by the limping, silver haired man who showed up on her porch supported by a dark haired exotically beautiful young woman. The tall younger man behind him moved as if he was in some sort of pain.

She had to snicker a bit when the young woman told the older man, "Gibbs, shut up. If you do not let me help you, I will kick your tuchus. You will do that knee no good by being stubborn."

Gibbs reply nearly put Miz Mildred on the floor. "I'm fine." This while limping down the hall.

"Well. Rooms are all set up. There's three doubles on this floor. Two on the next up. Both floors have a common room with a tv. The top floor is out of bounds as that's my private quarters. Breakfast is when you come down. Just this once. So ... how many will there be?"

Tony grumbled a bit then answered. "Me and Remy will take a room. Ziva needs a single. Gibbs the same. McGee ..." He paused to rub his eyes. "Cosmo and Dean need a room together. McGee ... Boss?" his chest was so painful that he'd taken some stronger meds, they left him feeling fuzzy.

"Stand down, sailor, I got it. I'll room with McGee so that he can get up and get me stuff, help me to the head. Ziva rooms alone. You and Remy in a double and Dean and Cosmo in another. Ma'am?" Gibbs swayed slightly as Ziva lost her balance a bit.

"Ok, I got it. You two in here. You in here. Miss, this one for you. I'll wait for the other gentlemen and show them upstairs. If you need anything ... extra towels or whatnot, let me know." She started off then turned back to say, "And all the rooms have a private bath, and the hot water heater will keep up. It's on demand." She walked off, her stride firm, shoulders straight; planning breakfast that would be quick so she could feed her boarders as soon as they came down.

It didn't take them long to get sorted out. Ziva dumped Gibbs in his room, telling him to shower now. "I'll bring your bag in. I have to go out for mine."

Gibbs just sat down on the foot of the bed and started unlacing his boots. "Thanks." He rubbed his forehead. "I'm damn glad we don't have to debrief tonight."

Ziva scowled at that thought. "I too am very glad. I never understood the need for exhausted people to have to sit around for hours, telling their story over and over. I will be right back."

.

Tony groaned at the thought of lifting his arms. He needed out of his dirty, sweating clothing in the worst way but it was going to hurt.

Remy knew exactly what was wrong and said, "Just give me time to get my boots off. I'll have you stripped down and in the shower in just a minute. You first then me. Then bed."

Tony relaxed at that. "Thanks. And ... hey, no debrief. At least, not until we get back to DC. Nice."

"Seriously." Remy dropped his boots on the floor. It didn't take him long to help Tony strip, just a matter of pulling his t-shirt off over his head.

Tony finished undressing and tossed his clothing onto the floor out of the way. He put his pocket junk on his bedside table, right next to his 9mm. He headed for the shower acknowledging Remy's call of, "Headed out to get our bags." with a short grumble.

Ziva met Remy at the SUV. "Bags?"

Remy nodded and fished out hers and Gibbs. He handed them to her then turned to find his. "Oh, McGee's bag is here. You be able to carry all three?"

Ziva nodded. "Yes, I can manage. It's not far. And Gibbs ... he packs like a Marine. But McGee? Kitchen sink? Is that the right expression?"

Remy gave her a weary smile. "Yeah. AJ, he packs like he's going out for months. Here." He handed over McGee's bag and watched for a moment to be sure that Ziva could handle all three bags without strain. When he saw that she could, he grabbed his load and went back inside.

When he got back to the room, Tony was sitting on his bed, a towel across his lap. He took the bag and rummaged to find a pair of boxers. He usually slept in boxers and a t-shirt so it wasn't that long before he was in bed and sleeping soundly. Remy regarded him with some fondness then went to shower himself.

Tim McGee had stayed at his post until the last of the prisoners were dealt with. He'd shut the MTAC trailer down and woke the driver up to drive the thing back to DC. Now he was exhausted, sweaty and ready for bed. He'd even accepted a ride from a deputy who was headed in the same general direction and the B&B he was assigned to. He could have taken a cab but the offer was most gratefully accepted.

He got out of the cruiser, thanking the officer as he did. "Thanks for the ride. Now all I have to do is find my go-bag. Good night." He wondered briefly if he should have said good morning, it was now 3am.

McGee grumbled as he headed for the SUV. He was tired and didn't want to have to dig through the accumulated junk in the back to look for his bag. The note taped to the back glass made him chuckle a bit. "McGoodman, don't bother. You're in with Gibbs, bag in room. 'Night. AJ"

Thanking Tony for his thoughtfulness, McGee opened the front door then stopped as he had no idea which room was his. This problem was solved by Gibbs.

"In here." Gibbs stuck his head out the door of their room, jerked it in the general direction of 'in' and disappeared. "Shower's hot. I'm goin' back to bed."

McGee couldn't help a slight chuckle. Gibbs might be having a bit of trouble with his close vision but there was nothing wrong with his near bat like hearing.

He stepped into the running and just hot enough shower, got himself clean and into sleep pants and t-shirt. The bed was turned down so he was asleep in seconds.

Gibbs smiled to himself, rolled over and went back to sleep too.

.

Morning came, and went. Noon arrived. Gibbs woke up for the second time and got up. He wasn't adverse to a late day, when it was really needed. He took care of the three S's and went in search of his drug of choice.

He was happy to see a large coffee maker with a pot full on the warmer. He poured a cup and sipped. His sigh brought Miz Mildred from the sunporch.

"Mornin'. Or more like good afternoon. Hungry?" Mildred smiled at Gibbs. "Marine?"

"Yeah, retired. How'd you know?" Gibbs quirked one eyebrow but followed into the kitchen.

"I know military when I see it. Wasn't a military wife for fifteen years for nothin'. An' there's just something about a Marine that screams out. So." She opened the fridge and pulled out a tray covered with breakfast makings. "Eggs, steak, hash browns, toast. What else."

Gibbs laughed softly. "Kitchen sink, garden, whatever. Where's the man of the house?"

"Died. One of those ..." she cleared her throat. "Viet Nam syndrome things. Agent Orange, if you ask me. Army didn't 'fes up to anything. Got his pension. We had five good years here. Got me started. Good enough for me. Gov'ment can just leave well enough alone. If you take my drift." She started on prep for skillets full of food.

"Sorry. Coffee's good. Need any help?" Gibbs knew all about her problem. The Army still refused to deal well with dependents from the Viet Nam era. Pissed him off.

"Help? You?" Miz Mildred snorted and went back to cracking eggs.

"Hey! Marine here." he smiled a bit ruefully. "Not a golden boy by any means. Plenty of KP in my past. Still know how to peal a 'tater."

Mildred laughed, a happy, ringing thing that lightened the kitchen. "Ok,ok. Here." She produced a bag of potatoes, two bowls and a peeler. "Knock yourself out."

Gibbs settled, with his coffee at his elbow, to peal enough potatoes to make hash browns for eight hungry people. She admitted to eating breakfast; but, as she admitted, 8 am was awhile ago.

Tony was the next awake. He got up wandered into the bathroom, kicking the leg of Remy's bed on the way.

Remy woke up at the jar. "Huh? Wa?" He sat up then yelled, "Damnit, AJ, ya could a let me sleep until you were done."

A rather maniacal laugh was his only reply. He flopped back down on the bed then got up and grabbed his pack to find some clothing. He knew he still needed to be in uniform so that was what he dug out. He also got out AJ's things. He contemplated knotting the legs and sleeves then rejected that, as starting a prank war with AJ was somewhat like going swimming in shark infested waters; after they'd been chummed.

McGee woke at the same time, looked for Gibbs, didn't see him and started to roll over to go back to sleep. Then it hit him, Gibbs wasn't in bed, that meant that he was up, which meant he needed to get up too. He glanced at his watch, noon. He started to scramble out of bed then relaxed. If Gibbs had wanted him up, he'd be up. So he took his time, got out clothing, showered and shaved, then headed for the kitchen and the delicious smells.

When he got to the kitchen, he found that; while Cosmo was a whiner before a mission, Dean was just like Tony after one. Every little ache and pain was catalogued, complained about and reiterated. Ad nausium.

When he slipped into the chair that was obviously his, Cosmo was saying, "Dean, damnit, six stitches. Only six."

Dean whined. "Yeah, right on the bone. Hurt like a mother."

Tony said, "Shut up, Dean, you whiny little bitch. I got shot too. In the chest. Talk about hurt. Ow! And did I say the bruise is the size of a plate. A stab plate."

Ziva was watching the conversation like it was a tennis match, turning her head to look at the speakers in turn.

Her expression made Miz Mildred pat her on the shoulder and whisper, "Don't worry. As long as they're not bringing Mothers into it, it's fine. Men, can't live with 'em, can't chain 'em in the yard."

Ziva, who had been expecting a full on fist fight any second, relaxed and began to pay more attention to the tone of voice and facial expressions and less to the actual words.

Meanwhile, Gibbs, tired of the whining comparison of wounds, whistled then barked, "Both of you can it. I'll check you both before we leave. Miz Mildred has to be tired of listening to both of you whine like girls."

Miz Mildred, who couldn't have cared less, just snorted and advised calmly, "If you want to eat, no more cussin' at my table. Right?"

After everyone chorused, "Ma'am, yes ma'am." she started putting food on the table. Since it was family style they all waited politely until she was seated. Mildred took her serving first then passed the service to her right.

It didn't take long for everyone to have a plate of food. The only sounds for several minutes were those of cutlery on china.

They were soon down to pan scrapings and toast scraps. Miz Mildred got up and started to remove the dishes. Tony nodded to Cosmo and Remy who immediately started helping.

Gibbs nodded at Tony and settled to watch the proceedings with interest.

Cosmo ran hot water into one sink then let it run in the other. Miz Mildred started to put the first dish into the sink but Remy stopped her. "No, Ma'am. Cosmo will wash, I'll dry and you put away. That way stuff gets back in the right places."

"Well, thank you, boys. That's right thoughtful of you." The lady knew when to cut her losses, as the saying goes. She was well pleased with her guests. Most didn't even think about the aggravation of bringing food from the kitchen to the dining room, these didn't even realize she had one. And no one, in her memory, had washed up for her.

It didn't take them long to finish up and clean the stove, counter tops and table. After they were finished, Gibbs asked Miz Mildred, "Ok, what's the damage?"

She nodded. "Desk is over there." She led the way to her big oak desk and settled in the old fashioned black leather office chair. "Got the bill right here." She handed it to Gibbs who just gave it back along with an official NCIS credit card. She processed it quickly and handed it back with a thank you.

Gibbs tucked the card away. "We'll be off then. Thanks for everything."

"Welcome. Drop back by when you can enjoy it." She smiled but didn't bother to get up, just offered her hand to shake then watched as Gibbs went back to the group.

Tony had overseen everyone getting their bags into one of the SUV's. His SEAL team was headed back to Quantico to debrief, while the NCIS team was headed back to the Yard for the same. He wondered where he should go, Quantico or Yard, so he called Captain McKinley. The Captain, well aware of how nuts this team got, told him they all needed to go to the Yard, as the op had been initiated by NCIS.

This made everything a lot easier as all the resources of NCIS would be at their disposal, including stenographers from the secretarial pool. They didn't usually bother, but this op had been big and all their intel had to be collated into one report, plus their own personal recollections.

They accomplished the drive back in twanging silence. Gibbs was well aware that all the SEALs were still high, Ziva was too. The only one of them that seemed not to be running on nerves was McGee. He had his nose stuck in his lap top.

Tony was constantly on the phone to the other vehicle, keeping his SEAL team from doing some very odd things; including highway surfing. Gibbs just rubbed his face, dreading and hoping for their arrival at the Yard.

.

The arrival wasn't that bad, despite the fact that Remy and Cosmo solemnly insisted on helping the guards check out both vehicles. This made the inspection, which usually took about five minutes, take nearly thirty. The two Marines on duty took their antics in stride, well aware of exactly what they were dealing with. They'd both been to Iraq, three times, and knew how wound up men could get. Neither one even blinked at Ziva's insistent attempts to flirt, just smiling at her in an absent minded way and going back to keeping Remy from using the inspection mirror to look up women's skirts.

Gibbs didn't bother to try to rein them in, he just kept Tony and Dean from joining in. Not that either man really wanted to. Now that all the adrenalin was out of their systems and they'd had a good nights sleep, they were really feeling the effects of their wounds. Tony was sore all over, while Dean was having great trouble moving his arm. It was evident that both of them needed a trip to the hospital. It was also evident that neither one was going. Ducky was going to have to take x-rays and deal as best he could.

And deal he did. He announced, after proper consultation with Jimmy, that Dean had a mild Torus fracture, it wasn't even a 'proper' break. The bone was cracked and required a brace. Ducky said, "Now, my friend, I know your sort. Keep that brace on except when you're showering. No hand-to-hand training, or any other activities. Come back in five days and I'll give it another look." He gave Dean a stern look. "And I'll want to keep an eye on those stitches. Nice job, who ever did it."

Dean just sulked a bit but nodded his head, after Tony gave him a warning look.

Then Ducky dragged Tony over the coals. "As for you, young man. What the devil do you think you're doing, shot in the chest and running around like a spring foal. You are on desk duty only until those ribs heal properly. I'll not strap them as I don't want to have you high breathing, your lungs won't clear properly that way. But ... and I do mean but, if there's any foolishness from you; I will. Am I clear?" He gave Tony that look that everyone knew well. It was his 'I am the Duckman, hear me roar.' look. Abby's words belied the the seriousness of the look. Ducky could, and would, put someone on medical leave until he was sure they were ready to go back into the field. The bad part of that was that, when put on medical leave, that person had to re-qualify, which was a real pain.

So both Tony and Dean agreed to comply with orders, which Ducky sent to their CO and XO, just to keep things on the up and up. Gibbs snarled at Tony, "You'll be coming home with me. Just in case."

Tony eyeballed Gibbs for a moment then sighed, "Ok, Boss."

"Finish your report ASAP. I want it on my desk by 1900 and us out of here by 1930. That means all of us." Gibbs sighed. He was tired and he knew everyone else was too. He hated having to finish a report before he could rest and never had understood why it was so damn necessary. He also hated bean counters. He settled at his desk to do his own report.

The rest of the group went to their desks, permanent or assigned, and booted up their computers. Stenos appeared at a call from Gibbs and the burden of keeping the SEALs on task devolved to them.

The stenos were all old timers and used to dealing with wired agents; wired SEALs weren't that much different. Nor were they actually that hard to keep on task, questioning always brought them back to the subject at hand. It didn't take long to get all the particulars down, data collated and reports printed. They were done by 1900.

While that seemed late, it really wasn't. They'd been up and on the road by a little after noon. The drive had taken a bit more than two hours which meant that they were at the Yard by 1400, and Ducky had taken right at an hour, so it had taken a bit more than 4 hours to do their reports.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. The second the last report hit his desk Gibbs barked at the SEALs. "Alright, you lugnuts, go home." He eyed McGee and Ziva. "That includes you two. Home. Sleep. Dean, AJ, with me."

Everyone trooped to the elevator, got on and went home.

la tvbh - not good

TARFUN - things are really fucked up now

If you want to see the gloves just google Mixed Martial Arts gloves. (I'm done trying to post links as Fanfiction just truncates them into uselessness.)

The exercise plan was paraphrased from the Military*com website.

String crackers are little 'fireworks' activated by pulling on strings that stick out of each end. They're about half an inch long and a quarter in diameter. We [kids in my generation] used to booby trap people by tying them inside a mail box, or use thumbtacks to hide them in a desk drawer. Superglue can be used if the desk isn't wood. The resulting cracks do sound like .22 shorts. Paint ballers use them as booby traps.

I did not go into all the details (Much as I would have loved to) of the Kate. It's a sweet piece and a smooth shooter. But I know most of you aren't that interested in the details of a sniper rifle or scope.