Copyright© 2010 by Michael Wolfam
Jamal's body tingled with excitement as he eagerly awaited the grenade's explosion. He checked over his shoulder one last time, ensuring that the men crouched behind him were ready for action. The power had just been cut by another member of his team, and the flash bang would detonate at any second. He tightened his grip on the submachine gun. Once the grenade stunned the people sitting around the table, he would rise up and slaughter them; shooting unmercilessly through the kitchen window. They would never know what hit them.
Max's night vision goggles saturated when the flash bang exploded in midair. The trained operative inside screamed to abort the mission. Something was terribly wrong. They could regroup and try again later. But Max's character would allow no such thing. Weakness, no matter how justified, was not an option. He touched his throat mike. "Who's got eyes? Can anyone see? Answer me, dammit."
"Alpha Team here, no movement in the house. What the hell happened? Looks like one of our guys is down."
"I'm near the backdoor. Want me to rush?" Roberto, the man who cut the power earlier, was waiting in ambush behind the house. His job was to cut short any escape attempts.
"Affirmative. Take the backdoor, meet up with Bravo Team out front. Go! Bravo Team you have a friendly inside." At least the operation wasn't completely FUBAR, Max thought. His paranoid nature would save the day, again.
Roberto rose from his hiding spot and raced across the backyard. After cutting the power, he had taken up a position about fifty feet from the house. He kicked in the back door and proceeded cautiously into the sunroom. The normally cheery space, filled with plants of all sizes, was a uniform green glow in his night vision goggles. He swept the room with his submachine gun. No sign of movement.
Roberto proceeded to the living room. There was an open closet door next to the stairs. He crept over, but found only a giant safe with a plaque on it. Inscribed on the plaque was the Second Amendment.
In the kitchen, there was nothing but broken glass and overturned chairs. Roberto reached the front door without encountering the targets. Bravo Team had recovered and rushed in to meet him.
"Boss, it's Roberto." He clicked on the throat mike. "No sign of them. They must be upstairs. One of our guys is dead; they've got at least one gun!"