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GWOT Animal Control
Nov. 7th, 2018 02:03 pmGWOT Animal Control
"STOP! STOP OR I RELEASE THE DOGS!"
The running man in his bulky clothing kept running.
So Alvin duly let slip the two Dobermans, and they chased down and feasted on ... shin padding. A successful apprehension of the test subject.
The SLE, VP-HR and VP-Facilities were politely horrified. This was a demonstration of our capabilities, and so far it was not going well.
Sharon explained, "This avoids the need to use deadly force ..." but they were not listening.
We rarely used dogs. But there were three situations in which they were invaluable: 1) chasing down fleeing suspects we didn't want to shoot, 2) searching (or attacking) buildings when the alternative to a dog going through the door was an allegedly more valuable human going through the door, and 3) biting someone who approached a fixed location without respect for who they might be.
Dogs don't recognize badges or insignia. But they whined when they saw Homeland. The smell of fear and blood that clung to them, you see. If we felt suicidal, we could still sic them on Homeland, and unlike everyone else, they would not feel fear.
"What do you do about feral dogs?" the SLE asked suddenly.
"Shoot them," Arturo replied before I could signal him that I would take the question.
Each of our leads was here as well. The purpose - and one that affected both our workload and our sleep - was to make sure that each of the client leaders was known to the security leaders, and vice versa.
The SLE grimly nodded. The VP-HR looked horrified. The VP-Facilities looked ... blank.
I decided we would not share the detail that when possible, we shot them with a crossbow to save ammunition. Much easier to get bolts than to get ammo, even with a reloading shop now set up in the Logistics area.
"Feral cats?"
"We don't allow people to feed them. But they help keep down the rodent population."
Among the many casualties of the Firecracker War - your pet. Many had died of the same causes that killed their owners. Others were - to be blunt about it - tasty when the alternative is watching your children literally starve.
No one was making pet food. That had been a Chinese import.
But our vet had plenty of work, more than she could possibly handle - nearly all of it two legged and some of it able to tell her where it hurts.
"Alert Two for perimeter intrusion, North Gate."
The SLE stared at me hard. No, sir, I did not set up an intrusion so that we could do a demo of how we resist them. But only because I hadn't thought of it.
"Sharon and Sarah, go off duty now, you're on tonight. Arturo, take care of it. I'll bodyguard our guests."
This was an enormous compartmentalization violation, putting the three key leaders of the site in one location. So I led them into H building, waved us past H1 lobby, took the elevator to H4 with my override, and past the SLE's office suite to the ladder next to the stairwell leading to H5 Observation.
By this time, Arturo had taken Brooke and Alvin to go deal with our intruders.
None of our observers was surprised to see me. They were _very_ surprised to see the SLE and his VPs.
"Numbers twenty, foot, walked past the fenceline. Ignored warning shots. Now walking south towards the perimeter road."
One of my observers lay on a doubled yoga mat, stretched out wide and pointing his rifle at the crowd several hundred yards away. Ready to fire on command.
Arturo was driving the Hate Truck, and it was about to earn its moniker yet again.
I didn't hear the PA warning, but I knew it by heart.
"YOU ARE TRESPASSING ON RESTRICTED PRIVATE PROPERTY DURING A TIME OF NATIONAL EMERGENCY. LEAVE THE PREMISES NOW OR YOU WILL BE FIRED UPON."
Or run into.
Our Hate Truck was a gasoline powered monster truck with spikes and razor ribbon all over it.
The crowd broke and ran when the Hate Truck barreled down on them.
Arturo started circling, cutting them off when they tried to run south towards the buildings.
Someone dodged the wrong way and the Hate Truck went over them. Crunch.
I saw a man shaking his fist and shouting, instead of running.
Not a good example.
I touched my sniper's leg.
"Echo 18, agitator, kill him."
The rifle cracked obediently and the man went down, in a jumble of disconnected limbs freshly missing a torso.
The VP-HR had a frosty expression on her face. The VP-Facilities had trouble holding his gorge.
As everyone broke and run, not dodging anymore but running for their lives to get back on the side of the fence where we wouldn't shoot at them, the SLE nodded.
He knew the price that was paid to keep the site secure under these conditions.
The Hate Truck followed, but not too closely.
Two dead to keep twenty out was not bad, under these conditions.
Alvin and his dogs approached the downed figure. Suddenly it lurched up with something in one hand.
There was a brief spray of blood as a dog tore out the man's throat.
Don't have something in your hands when confronted by one of our dogs. Just don't.
Grimly, the SLE nodded again.
"Very well."
The three made their way down the ladder to have a screaming match in the nearest conference room.
Meanwhile, until advised otherwise, I would act as necessary to keep the 3300 people on this site safe. No matter what was happening to the 3 million on the other side of the fence.
On the border, they call it residency and citizenship and crap like that.
On our border, all that mattered is simply "Who do you work for?"
"STOP! STOP OR I RELEASE THE DOGS!"
The running man in his bulky clothing kept running.
So Alvin duly let slip the two Dobermans, and they chased down and feasted on ... shin padding. A successful apprehension of the test subject.
The SLE, VP-HR and VP-Facilities were politely horrified. This was a demonstration of our capabilities, and so far it was not going well.
Sharon explained, "This avoids the need to use deadly force ..." but they were not listening.
We rarely used dogs. But there were three situations in which they were invaluable: 1) chasing down fleeing suspects we didn't want to shoot, 2) searching (or attacking) buildings when the alternative to a dog going through the door was an allegedly more valuable human going through the door, and 3) biting someone who approached a fixed location without respect for who they might be.
Dogs don't recognize badges or insignia. But they whined when they saw Homeland. The smell of fear and blood that clung to them, you see. If we felt suicidal, we could still sic them on Homeland, and unlike everyone else, they would not feel fear.
"What do you do about feral dogs?" the SLE asked suddenly.
"Shoot them," Arturo replied before I could signal him that I would take the question.
Each of our leads was here as well. The purpose - and one that affected both our workload and our sleep - was to make sure that each of the client leaders was known to the security leaders, and vice versa.
The SLE grimly nodded. The VP-HR looked horrified. The VP-Facilities looked ... blank.
I decided we would not share the detail that when possible, we shot them with a crossbow to save ammunition. Much easier to get bolts than to get ammo, even with a reloading shop now set up in the Logistics area.
"Feral cats?"
"We don't allow people to feed them. But they help keep down the rodent population."
Among the many casualties of the Firecracker War - your pet. Many had died of the same causes that killed their owners. Others were - to be blunt about it - tasty when the alternative is watching your children literally starve.
No one was making pet food. That had been a Chinese import.
But our vet had plenty of work, more than she could possibly handle - nearly all of it two legged and some of it able to tell her where it hurts.
"Alert Two for perimeter intrusion, North Gate."
The SLE stared at me hard. No, sir, I did not set up an intrusion so that we could do a demo of how we resist them. But only because I hadn't thought of it.
"Sharon and Sarah, go off duty now, you're on tonight. Arturo, take care of it. I'll bodyguard our guests."
This was an enormous compartmentalization violation, putting the three key leaders of the site in one location. So I led them into H building, waved us past H1 lobby, took the elevator to H4 with my override, and past the SLE's office suite to the ladder next to the stairwell leading to H5 Observation.
By this time, Arturo had taken Brooke and Alvin to go deal with our intruders.
None of our observers was surprised to see me. They were _very_ surprised to see the SLE and his VPs.
"Numbers twenty, foot, walked past the fenceline. Ignored warning shots. Now walking south towards the perimeter road."
One of my observers lay on a doubled yoga mat, stretched out wide and pointing his rifle at the crowd several hundred yards away. Ready to fire on command.
Arturo was driving the Hate Truck, and it was about to earn its moniker yet again.
I didn't hear the PA warning, but I knew it by heart.
"YOU ARE TRESPASSING ON RESTRICTED PRIVATE PROPERTY DURING A TIME OF NATIONAL EMERGENCY. LEAVE THE PREMISES NOW OR YOU WILL BE FIRED UPON."
Or run into.
Our Hate Truck was a gasoline powered monster truck with spikes and razor ribbon all over it.
The crowd broke and ran when the Hate Truck barreled down on them.
Arturo started circling, cutting them off when they tried to run south towards the buildings.
Someone dodged the wrong way and the Hate Truck went over them. Crunch.
I saw a man shaking his fist and shouting, instead of running.
Not a good example.
I touched my sniper's leg.
"Echo 18, agitator, kill him."
The rifle cracked obediently and the man went down, in a jumble of disconnected limbs freshly missing a torso.
The VP-HR had a frosty expression on her face. The VP-Facilities had trouble holding his gorge.
As everyone broke and run, not dodging anymore but running for their lives to get back on the side of the fence where we wouldn't shoot at them, the SLE nodded.
He knew the price that was paid to keep the site secure under these conditions.
The Hate Truck followed, but not too closely.
Two dead to keep twenty out was not bad, under these conditions.
Alvin and his dogs approached the downed figure. Suddenly it lurched up with something in one hand.
There was a brief spray of blood as a dog tore out the man's throat.
Don't have something in your hands when confronted by one of our dogs. Just don't.
Grimly, the SLE nodded again.
"Very well."
The three made their way down the ladder to have a screaming match in the nearest conference room.
Meanwhile, until advised otherwise, I would act as necessary to keep the 3300 people on this site safe. No matter what was happening to the 3 million on the other side of the fence.
On the border, they call it residency and citizenship and crap like that.
On our border, all that mattered is simply "Who do you work for?"
