Monday, February 28th

Once again I find myself in the hospital. Some PSSs from our rival television station attempted to take me prisoner on Friday morning. I was driving down the interstate when it happened. They used four SUVs to box me in and try to slowly bring me to a stop. When I realized what was happening I began to jerk the wheel left and right causing my car to slam into the vehicles on both of my sides. The driver to my right swerved slightly outward giving me a hole big enough to accelerate through.

I didn't outrun them for long. They attempted the same maneuver again, and this time they were successful. All four vehicles created a snug box that I couldn't move in. No matter how much I stomped on the brake or the accelerator my vehicle moved at their pace. They were drifting over to the shoulder so that they could stop and confront/kill me. I imagined them all getting out of their vehicles and unloading a barrage of rounds into my car. Then I thought about how ineffective that would be because my whole car was bullet-proof, not just the windows.

This gave me an idea. I wondered if their doors were bullet proof. I grabbed the rifle from my passenger side seat (my rifle always rides 'shotgun') and rolled down my window. The passenger side door of the SUV to my right was at eye level because of our difference in height. I let a few rounds out into the door. Something must have made it through because the vehicle began to shake a little bit and I could see the driver yelling. I aimed my rifle a bit higher and squeezed off two more rounds. The driver grabbed his shoulder and the vehicle swerved across two lanes and slammed head-on into the concrete wall that makes up the median.

I used the new gap to break free of the formation. Keeping the gas pedal to the floor I made it to my exit without any of them getting too close. They continued to follow me onto the highway toward downtown. I called SL Ramirez and informed him of the situation. He told me that he would have a welcoming party waiting for me at HQ. I kept up my speed and weaved through traffic. I turned onto Broad St and began closing in on HQ. The remaining three vehicles were about twenty meters behind me and closing fast.

Ahead of me I could see something pull into the middle of the street and stop. Soon I realized that it was the APC. Someone was controlling the .50cal and everyone else formed a line with their weapons at the ready. As soon as I turned into our driveway I could hear everyone open fire. I got out of the car to run back and join them, but I was overcome by a very sharp pain in my stomach followed by the feeling of having the wind knocked out of me. I blacked out.

I was told that a two man sniper team was posted on a nearby rooftop. The team engaged them and only one got away somehow. Intel thinks that it was some sort of retribution act for killing their CEO the other day. I however don't know how that is possible since no one spotted me as the shooter. That is unless someone in our company is working both sides. I should be out of the hospital later tonight..

Thursday, February 17th

This guy was cocky and probably deserved what was coming to him. Most CEOs would drive a plain vehicle so that they could mix in with the rest traffic. Any normal person wouldn't want to yell 'look at me' when they have a target on their head. Not this guy. He drove his BMW convertible like he was trying to outrun an airplane.

I watched as he rounded the corner and started down Reynolds Street. I laid on a small platform that I had built into a large tree the night before. The tree stood tall and sat at an intersection on his way to the office. Traffic always gridlocked in the area so I knew that he wouldn't be able to avoid stopping. He seemed to inch closer slowly. I was ready to hurry up and get this over with as I had been in the tree since last night. We couldn’t risk anyone seeing me climb the tree in the morning. My body ached with the pains of staying mostly still for a few hours.

His face matched the picture that I had memorized of my target. His car also matched the picture. Verification was complete when I saw that he was wearing a red bullet proof vest underneath his suit jacket. Luckily for me it was fairly warm for being mid-February and the target had his convertible top down. This guy's desire to be 'cool' was going to kill him in about fifteen more meters. His car moved slowly with traffic.

Ten meters; he checked his teeth in the mirror.

Five meters; he called someone on his cell phone.

Zero meters; he threw his head back in laughter. His windshield moved past my line of sight leaving a direct route to his head. His laughter died down as he pulled his head forward again. His smiling face filled the image in my ACOG scope.


His foot must have relaxed off of the brake because his car slowly bumped into the person in front of him. Pink mist hovered around the area for a couple of seconds and then disappeared.

I followed my bug out route back to HQ without incident. At final formation I was given the 'Expert LRS' award. Coincidentally this gave me enough points to be promoted to E3. As soon as HQ feels the time is right I will be moved to a FTL slot. At this rate I may be able to make SoS before transferring into the ISS program.

Tuesday, February 15th

What did I say in the last post? I believe I mentioned something about knowing that HQ was going to make us earn back all of the money that was spent on us. Guess what? They did; and it paid off. We were able to take back the Magazine. The operation was beautiful.

Alpha team and SL Ramirez infiltrated via helicopter from the roof. Bravo team rode into the loading dock entrance in one of our new FAVs. Our actions were swift and precise. Zero KIA or WIA on our squad and 14 KIA for the OPFOR. Our team got some awards for the assault, but I didn't get an award since there wasn't much for an LRS to do within the job description. Basically in missions like that I become a CQS again.

I'll get my chance to do some long range stuff soon. There is a special mission coming up. I don't know what it is yet, but I've been told that I'll be the primary aggressor.

Friday, February 11th

The Monday after our four night torture session we got news that we were being shipped off for some more training. It wasn't easy telling my wife that I would be leaving for two weeks; especially with only a one day notice. She wasn't okay with it, but knew I had to go. I don't like doing this to her. I put my paperwork in for a transfer to IS and was told that I didn't yet have enough combat experience. It took all I had in my power not to smack the clerk with my rifle. Not ENOUGH combat experience huh? Since when do you need combat experience to work in Information Security?

We got to the office early the next morning. Our flight was an early one so that we could avoid having to transport our unit during business hours. Our convoy could still have been attacked, but chances were less likely before the official work day. Our route took us by the building where I witnessed three men get reduced to bits by a Gatling gun manned by Geoff.

Our flight took us on a few hops before bringing us to a small town in the Midwest. Training took place in two phases. Phase I was 'Helicopter Exiting Techniques'. Phase II was 'Ground Target Skydiving'. Somehow I wasn't surprised to see the same two instructors from our previous class. Our training began with a question from one of them, "is anyone here afraid of heights?" Everyone was smart enough to keep their hands down regardless of their answer. The instructor smiled, "good!"

Phase I was great. We learned to repel for a helicopter ten different ways. My favorite dismount procedure was fast rope exit. The phase lasted a week and culminated with a series of mock assaults with simulated OPFOR. We successfully completed the course and received a training metal and certificate.

Phase II scared the hell out of me. I never really had a yearning to jump out of a plane; until I actually did it. A weird feeling stuck with me during the plane phase. It's hard to describe it. The only way I can put it is being so scared that you can hardly move, but when you do jump there isn't a more exhilarating feeling in the world. We did about ten jumps a day. By the last day we could HALO (High Altitude, Low Opening) jump onto a targeted rooftop. Well I say we, but a few on our team couldn't hit the roof consistently, but did well enough to pass.

We got back to the office right before the end of the business day. While we were gone HQ decided to invest in some toys for us! There is an official unit area for us now attached to HQ's building. It has a locker room with showers, break room, offices for our 'higher ups', and conference area. A garage houses our APC, 2 SUVs, and 2 new FAVs. We were also told that we have our own small plane at the local airport.

I'm going to enjoy all of the new things while I can because I know that we will be earning back all of the money spent on us soon enough. I also found out that I am only a few points away from being promoted to an E-3. When that happens I will be moved to the first RTL position that becomes available. Personally I don't care about that as much as getting the bump in pay!

Saturday, January 29th

The course started on Tuesday night in the middle of the woods somewhere. After work that afternoon we were loaded up in a delivery van and drove for a few hours. It was dark inside and there were no seats or straps and the ride was disorienting as each turn would send you into a slide across the floor. Toward the end of the trip I could tell that we turned onto a very bumpy dirt road. The left strap on my pack came undone when the van came to an abrupt stop.

The back doors opened up and revealed a blinding white light broken up by two dark figures. I heard something drop onto the floor of the van. The doors slammed shut and we were once again in total darkness. I began to fiddle with my strap when I heard a small hissing noise. My eyes filled with tears and my face began to burn. Each breath was like inhaling heartburn and the smell was unforgettable. I must admit that a pepper bomb is one of the most horrible things I have ever experienced.

CQS Turner tried to open the doors, but they were locked from the outside. He and CQS Yarbanks began kicking the doors as hard as they could. The van began moving again. The bomb had just run out of juice when we stopped again. We all tried to keep composure while waiting for the doors to open. I didn't think that the pain could get any worse; that is until I stepped outside and let the blistering cold wind smash me in the face. Wind just seemed to compound the burning sensation rather than make it better.
A voice came from out of the darkness, "form up!"

We all staggered into formation and did our best to stand at attention. The area was quiet for a couple of minutes. I began to get worried that we had been left alone. My vision slowly came back and I could make out the shapes of trees all around us. Suddenly the area was lit up by a dozen flood lights. Two guys stood in front of our formation. Both were wearing desert combat boots, tan cargo pants, black short-sleeve shirt, tactical vest, and a black hat. They stood tall with their arms crossed and glared at us. We were instructed on where to sleep by one of them. Home was a large canvas tent lined with metal frame bunk beds that the instructors called 'racks'. This was the beginning of a very unforgettable week.

Wednesday morning we all woke up to tear gas canisters popping in our tent. I guessed that something like that would happen so I had pulled out my gas mask the night before. Quickly I secured the mask to my face. I was first to make it out of the tent. The others came running out soon after. One of the instructors walked up to me and began to fire off questions.

"Why did you put your gas mask on?"
"Uh... I wanted to avoid the gas, sir."
"Don't call me sir damnit! Don't you see the insignia on my cover?" He pointed to gold sergeant stripes sewn into the front of his hat.
"I'm sorry sergeant!"
His chest puffed out and he pointed his finger in my face, "I know you are! Now apologize!"
"I um... I apol..."
He interrupted me, "I don't give a shit! Apologize to your team dumbass! Because of you the rest of them are in pain right now."
"But I didn't do anything to them."
"Oh really? When did you decide to that you might need your gas mask huh?"
"Last night, sergeant."
"And you didn't think that it could possibly be some good information to share with everyone else?"
"Well I wasn't really thinking of..."
"Exactly! You were only thinking of yourself. To hell with the rest of them right?"
That question made me angry and I made sure to emphasize it in my voice, "No! I just didn't think about it is all!"
"You know what happens when you don't think about shit like that? Huh? Do you?" He bumped my forehead with his hat as he brought his face closer to mine, "people die. Right now the blood of everyone in this squad could be on your hands. The small details count, son. Remember that."

I could tell he was being sincere in his own twisted way so I backed down and nodded my head. I knew he was right. He drilled the point home by making me carry anyone that 'died' that day during our exercises. We went over IED (improvised explosive device) identification during the day and land navigation at night. The classes were very interesting, but I don't think I will ever use the information we learned. After our night training session he pulled me aside and talked to me. He told me that the weight of a dead friend on my conscious was far greater than the physical weight of carrying them out of battle. Then he told me that when I get ideas on defensive strategies, such as the gas mask this morning, I should share it with the rest of the squad.

Thursday was the most fun day of training. We learned some advanced weapons techniques during the day. The classes showed us how to use our weapons more efficiently in certain situations. That night we practiced firing at targets from an assortment of moving vehicles. I bet the outcome of more battles could be in our favor if we had some of those neat toys!

Friday was the last and most grueling day of training. We put on all of our gear and walked ten miles to a special training area. It was a simulated urban environment complete with buildings and vehicles. Our weapons were fitted with some sort of gear that would allow us to play some real war games. We fired blanks at OPFOR on the course. If someone was hit the gear attached to their helmet and vest would start to beep. If you were hit you had to fall down and act dead. Of course the instructors had fun with it a few times and told someone that they were just injured and needed to scream like hell until SM Magley showed up. When it got dark we started torture resistance training. It was a course on how NOT to talk when being tortured in different ways. I don't want to talk or think about that class anymore.

Saturday morning we were given a training metal and certificate. There was an open question and answer session with the instructors during breakfast. We found out that one was a retired Colonel and the other a retired Sergeant Major. Both were Delta Operators for the military. The stories these guys told were insane! I'm sure the stories they couldn't tell were even better!

Monday, January 24th

 $4,000,000 /year Revenue
-$3,000,000 /year Expenses
 $1,000,000 /year Net Profit

One million dollars a year of net profit is now gone. We lost the magazine in an attack today. Seven men were lost in the battle. I'm confident that the attack would have been unsuccessful if the MCU could've responded in time. We were at TV1 when the call came in. By the time we got there the bodies were being lined up outside. Overwhelming rage came over me and I fought to keep from jumping out of the APC and attacking the new residents. Unfortunately they were under protection of the Free Market Policy.

We couldn't retaliate for at least 24 hours per the rules of the Policy. Once the attacking force killed the CEO they became protected by the Government. This was a clause designed to allow enough time for a new managing company to be fully prepared to defend themselves. I think it's bogus. HQ held a companywide formation this afternoon to discuss the loss. We were told to be more vigilant, aware, and suspicious by some guys that sit in a room all day doing god knows what. For all we know it could be a casino behind HQ's doors.

The MCU was told to stay formed up while everyone else was dismissed. SL Ramirez told us that we would be attending a special three day, four night combat course starting tomorrow. We are going to be the first class trained by a couple of former special operations folks turned contractors. I'm excited to be going, but worried about what we are being trained for. Whatever mission(s) it may be I hope that they are planned out better than the last assault.

Friday, January 21st

I have to be back to the grind on Monday. I'll also have to coach the new guys on the ways of the MCU. The traditions of the original unit WILL NOT fade away while I am a part of it. It is up to CQS Yarbanks, CQS Turner, and me to make sure that the things that made the MCU different from everyone else will live on forever. I'm ready and pumped to go back and plan some revenge.


On the flip side I've spend the whole week at home without the fear of death and I kind of liked it. I don't spend nearly as much time as I should with my family. I've held my son more during this week off than I have since he was born. I've been up all hours, dodged pee, been smiled at, and spit-up on. I couldn't be happier. When his eyes lock in on mine I can't help but smile. I feel as though my body will burst with love and pride when he sleeps in my arms. Being with him really makes me not want to go back, and I don't have to.

One big separation between working under the Free Market Policy and military service is the required commitment. The military requires eight total years of service that can be completed in a variety of ways (Active, Reserve, Inactive Ready Reserve). It is unlawful to have any sort of commitment under the Free Market Policy. This doesn't stop a company from offering 'bonuses' for service terms. For instance my company will give a PSS up to a $xxxxx bonus for the first six months of service, and more if certain conditions are met during said service. I'll just say that assuming I'm still alive come mid-February we should be able to purchase a medium-sized house and new car outright.

I don't think that they know it, but I'm watching my wife and son right now. She has been talking to him for the last few minutes about their plans for tomorrow. My wife; I can't imagine life without her. She is the family President, CEO, and CFO. She takes care of everything and I am so grateful for that. I don't kill for some company that sees me as an operating expense. I kill to provide her the best life that I can. Her smile can still light a candle in the darkness that is overtaking my existence. She is my wife and the mother of our child, but more than that she is my best friend.

I'm filling out the request for transfer to the IS team when I get in on Monday. They will probably decline me, but I have to try. The position pays less money, but has a much higher survival rate.