GWOT Drill Bit
Sep. 23rd, 2018 03:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
drewkittyGWOT Drill Bit
"Shots fired, guard down, C building lobby."
I stood in the C building lobby with a clipboard and a pen.
The C lobby guard was sprawled on the ground, holding her leg and screaming. A bright red pool dripped from her leg on the tile of the lobby floor.
I did nothing. Well, I did record the time with the pen.
I heard audible "clicks" from the exterior door locks and the nearest stairwell. Then I heard doors slamming.
A moment ago, I had carefully gone to each person on the 1st floor and told them something.
My phone started pinging off the hook. If someone filed certain security trouble tickets, my phone would beep. A Barricade ticket - a notification that people had locked themselves in a space due to a life threat - was beep worthy.
I had also made certain that there were no Reaction Team personnel on upper floors. Just in case, I'd also taped up a sign on the inside of each stairwell door, thoughtfully explaining why the door would be locked and remain locked.
That would have been illegal pre-Firecracker due to fire code.
Fuck fire code.
Outside some distance away, Arturo stood wearing a red shirt (it's traditional) and a reflective vest. Next to him was a manual push cart full of stuff and an empty shopping cart.
Here came the Reaction Team. Per standard, three Reaction Teams and two guard teams had been dispatched.
The Reaction Team came to a screeching halt and sulked. They then - reluctantly - put their weapons in the shopping cart, and drew replacements from the push cart.
Meanwhile, a man wearing a red shirt screamed and shouted and waved a pistol. Even in his ranting he was careful never to point at me, the injured guard or anyone else.
The Reaction Team stacked near the door; Dispatch overrode the door; and the Reaction Team made entry shouting.
"REACT! SECURITY BREACH! DROP IT! DROP IT NOW!"
The suspect immediately dropped the pistol and put his hands high in the air. All five REACT members ignored the wounded guard and formed a semi circle around the suspect. Two drew their clubs and proceeded to beat the suspect vigorously. He cried and whined and fell down obediently.
Then and only then did two approach the wounded guard.
"Any more? Where are you shot?"
"Two more!" she exclaimed as she held her right leg in both hands. An observant person would notice that her pistol holster was empty.
Immediately they both took up defensive positions. One threw her a first aid kit and shouted, "Put pressure on that!" without taking his attention from the doors.
A good thing, too, because the other two suspects entered the lobby wearing hockey masks. Shooting.
I made marks on my clipboard as I watched.
One REACT member went down, howling, as he was shot in the chest. The other returned fire smoothly and competently, capping the hockey mask-wearing suspect in the face and chest. Then the first lurched upright and fired repeatedly at the so far unwounded suspect.
The guard team made entry through the doors and annihilated the threat with four two round bursts, one from each guard. They split into pairs to approach, zip tie, and vigorously search the three suspects who were now down. Even the one who had been shot in the head.
The REACT team leader broke squelch.
"Three suspects down, two additional wounded. Scene not secure. Request medical and three stretcher bearer teams to stage."
A second REACT team arrived. The two REACT teams, minus the downed member, started sweeping the floor and checking doors. The guards switched to first aid, starting initial lifesaving care on the downed guard and REACT team member.
"Medical, two persons down, one Immediate for a chest GSW," one said on radio as he simulated tightening a tourniquet..
A third REACT team showed up and took up positions flanking the lobby. Only then did the guard team leader break squelch.
"Scene is warm, medical to approach."
A second guard team arrived with medical and stretcher bearers, and became rather busy.
Warm scene meant roll, lift and run - to a safe place. Which this was not.
The first REACT team leader and the first guard team leader started reconciling barricade tickets with locked doors.
"Scene is cold, repeat cold. I need management for a critical incident, we have numbers 3 suspects accounted for, one down and dead, one wounded suspect, one prisoner."
A guard team finished stripping off the clothing of the two suspects, providing rude first aid to the injured one. They were then tied to stretchers where they lay.
It was time for me to set down my clipboard.
"Echo 18, on scene. Ring down."
The guard team leader glanced at the REACT team leader, who started speaking as if I had not seen everything that had just happened.
I started with the wounded prisoner and asked him questions, which he refused to answer. I then moved to the uninjured prisoner, who gave me personal and anatomical advice.
We broke down the incident. Arturo came inside with his carts. The REACT team members were interviewed by their lead in front of Arturo. Then the security team members were interviewed by the REACT team lead in front of me.
Every shot fired was accounted for, and by whom.
"All clear," I called, "Terminate training exercise."
"Could someone take my zip ties off?" complained the 'dead' prisoner..
You become good at response by practicing. The teams had been slowed by the need to trade in their live firearms for Arturo's simulated firearms. The two armed prisoners were in fact site instructors - the unarmed prisoner, the REACT team manager, who was willing to bet his eyesight if not his life on the steadiness of his people not shooting him because he laid his gun down.
"Alert One!" screamed the radio. Dispatch at a higher octave. Not good.
I dropped the clipboard and transitioned to handgun. Arturo grabbed after his cart of goodies, which still had two REACT rifles in it. The REACT manager cursed and ducked behind the lobby door, pressing the "DOOR OPEN" button so Arturo and I could rush outside. He wasn't armed, having just played in an exercise.
Arturo and I were the actual, armed, lethal cover for the building during the exercise. And during the time it was taking REACT and Security to realize that this was no longer a drill, we were Johnny on the spot.
Someone - not a player - had cold-cocked a REACT team member outside and taken his real, working, loaded rifle. This was now the real McCoy.
I recognized the person. A dependent, of course. The employees are essential but some of them won't work without their spouses. One of them was about to have to.
"Come out here, you asshole!" she shouted at her husband, who was on REACT but in the lobby, and holding a pistol loaded with wax rounds.
The 'wounded' lobby guard did a perfect leg sweep, knocked the husband down, crawled on top of him and shoved a contact stun gun against his neck. Crackle pop. Not Rice Krispies.
No more drama will be added to this situation. We had a rifle-armed suspect outside and intended victim inside. Victim will not be allowed to go outside.
Arturo and I started to clear the door. Both of us had the same operational intent - to start shooting as soon as we had line of sight.
The disarmed REACT member's partner had not been armed, for values of having a firearm. But had a cut-down baseball bat that we called a baton out of nostalgia for a world that had died with San Francisco.
She used it. Repeatedly. Very, very hard. As she broke the suspect's forearms and (crunch) kneecaps, incidentally saving the suspect's life as Arturo and I both had to check fire.
"Give me a fucking zip tie!" she shouted as she wrenched the broken arms together.
The would be murderer screamed in contralto.
A zip tie was provided. Medical dropped the notional cases for the new real one. And I holstered, went back inside, retrieved my clipboard and turned over the page.
There is no escaping writing paper. Even in an Apocalypse.
"Shots fired, guard down, C building lobby."
I stood in the C building lobby with a clipboard and a pen.
The C lobby guard was sprawled on the ground, holding her leg and screaming. A bright red pool dripped from her leg on the tile of the lobby floor.
I did nothing. Well, I did record the time with the pen.
I heard audible "clicks" from the exterior door locks and the nearest stairwell. Then I heard doors slamming.
A moment ago, I had carefully gone to each person on the 1st floor and told them something.
My phone started pinging off the hook. If someone filed certain security trouble tickets, my phone would beep. A Barricade ticket - a notification that people had locked themselves in a space due to a life threat - was beep worthy.
I had also made certain that there were no Reaction Team personnel on upper floors. Just in case, I'd also taped up a sign on the inside of each stairwell door, thoughtfully explaining why the door would be locked and remain locked.
That would have been illegal pre-Firecracker due to fire code.
Fuck fire code.
Outside some distance away, Arturo stood wearing a red shirt (it's traditional) and a reflective vest. Next to him was a manual push cart full of stuff and an empty shopping cart.
Here came the Reaction Team. Per standard, three Reaction Teams and two guard teams had been dispatched.
The Reaction Team came to a screeching halt and sulked. They then - reluctantly - put their weapons in the shopping cart, and drew replacements from the push cart.
Meanwhile, a man wearing a red shirt screamed and shouted and waved a pistol. Even in his ranting he was careful never to point at me, the injured guard or anyone else.
The Reaction Team stacked near the door; Dispatch overrode the door; and the Reaction Team made entry shouting.
"REACT! SECURITY BREACH! DROP IT! DROP IT NOW!"
The suspect immediately dropped the pistol and put his hands high in the air. All five REACT members ignored the wounded guard and formed a semi circle around the suspect. Two drew their clubs and proceeded to beat the suspect vigorously. He cried and whined and fell down obediently.
Then and only then did two approach the wounded guard.
"Any more? Where are you shot?"
"Two more!" she exclaimed as she held her right leg in both hands. An observant person would notice that her pistol holster was empty.
Immediately they both took up defensive positions. One threw her a first aid kit and shouted, "Put pressure on that!" without taking his attention from the doors.
A good thing, too, because the other two suspects entered the lobby wearing hockey masks. Shooting.
I made marks on my clipboard as I watched.
One REACT member went down, howling, as he was shot in the chest. The other returned fire smoothly and competently, capping the hockey mask-wearing suspect in the face and chest. Then the first lurched upright and fired repeatedly at the so far unwounded suspect.
The guard team made entry through the doors and annihilated the threat with four two round bursts, one from each guard. They split into pairs to approach, zip tie, and vigorously search the three suspects who were now down. Even the one who had been shot in the head.
The REACT team leader broke squelch.
"Three suspects down, two additional wounded. Scene not secure. Request medical and three stretcher bearer teams to stage."
A second REACT team arrived. The two REACT teams, minus the downed member, started sweeping the floor and checking doors. The guards switched to first aid, starting initial lifesaving care on the downed guard and REACT team member.
"Medical, two persons down, one Immediate for a chest GSW," one said on radio as he simulated tightening a tourniquet..
A third REACT team showed up and took up positions flanking the lobby. Only then did the guard team leader break squelch.
"Scene is warm, medical to approach."
A second guard team arrived with medical and stretcher bearers, and became rather busy.
Warm scene meant roll, lift and run - to a safe place. Which this was not.
The first REACT team leader and the first guard team leader started reconciling barricade tickets with locked doors.
"Scene is cold, repeat cold. I need management for a critical incident, we have numbers 3 suspects accounted for, one down and dead, one wounded suspect, one prisoner."
A guard team finished stripping off the clothing of the two suspects, providing rude first aid to the injured one. They were then tied to stretchers where they lay.
It was time for me to set down my clipboard.
"Echo 18, on scene. Ring down."
The guard team leader glanced at the REACT team leader, who started speaking as if I had not seen everything that had just happened.
I started with the wounded prisoner and asked him questions, which he refused to answer. I then moved to the uninjured prisoner, who gave me personal and anatomical advice.
We broke down the incident. Arturo came inside with his carts. The REACT team members were interviewed by their lead in front of Arturo. Then the security team members were interviewed by the REACT team lead in front of me.
Every shot fired was accounted for, and by whom.
"All clear," I called, "Terminate training exercise."
"Could someone take my zip ties off?" complained the 'dead' prisoner..
You become good at response by practicing. The teams had been slowed by the need to trade in their live firearms for Arturo's simulated firearms. The two armed prisoners were in fact site instructors - the unarmed prisoner, the REACT team manager, who was willing to bet his eyesight if not his life on the steadiness of his people not shooting him because he laid his gun down.
"Alert One!" screamed the radio. Dispatch at a higher octave. Not good.
I dropped the clipboard and transitioned to handgun. Arturo grabbed after his cart of goodies, which still had two REACT rifles in it. The REACT manager cursed and ducked behind the lobby door, pressing the "DOOR OPEN" button so Arturo and I could rush outside. He wasn't armed, having just played in an exercise.
Arturo and I were the actual, armed, lethal cover for the building during the exercise. And during the time it was taking REACT and Security to realize that this was no longer a drill, we were Johnny on the spot.
Someone - not a player - had cold-cocked a REACT team member outside and taken his real, working, loaded rifle. This was now the real McCoy.
I recognized the person. A dependent, of course. The employees are essential but some of them won't work without their spouses. One of them was about to have to.
"Come out here, you asshole!" she shouted at her husband, who was on REACT but in the lobby, and holding a pistol loaded with wax rounds.
The 'wounded' lobby guard did a perfect leg sweep, knocked the husband down, crawled on top of him and shoved a contact stun gun against his neck. Crackle pop. Not Rice Krispies.
No more drama will be added to this situation. We had a rifle-armed suspect outside and intended victim inside. Victim will not be allowed to go outside.
Arturo and I started to clear the door. Both of us had the same operational intent - to start shooting as soon as we had line of sight.
The disarmed REACT member's partner had not been armed, for values of having a firearm. But had a cut-down baseball bat that we called a baton out of nostalgia for a world that had died with San Francisco.
She used it. Repeatedly. Very, very hard. As she broke the suspect's forearms and (crunch) kneecaps, incidentally saving the suspect's life as Arturo and I both had to check fire.
"Give me a fucking zip tie!" she shouted as she wrenched the broken arms together.
The would be murderer screamed in contralto.
A zip tie was provided. Medical dropped the notional cases for the new real one. And I holstered, went back inside, retrieved my clipboard and turned over the page.
There is no escaping writing paper. Even in an Apocalypse.
