As I was leaving my house I stuffed my Glock 10mm man-gun Mexican-style into my pants. My backup is a fully customized 1911 with all the IPSC add-on options, in my $500.00 leather pancake holster custom made by Belgian Monks who have devoted their lives to silence and holster making. These are the ones used by SEAL Team 6, which I used to be a part of, but all records of my activities were destroyed in a fire "accident". I put on my 5.11 photographer vest to match my pants while wearing a T-Shirt underneath reading "from my cold dead hands." That way, nobody can see that I'm packing. I had my Centennial .38 Special in my ankle holster, just like the gun-rag guys carry. Lastly I had my "Covert Sniper" I.D. Card in my wallet with my Concealed Weapons Permit Badge. I was ready for anything. I drove my "bug-out truck" to the 7-11 for some beer, 'cause you never know. It is a performance-styled Subaru BRAT with 4 cylinders of ground pounding fury. I pull up to the 7-11 store and notice a nefarious looking girl scout eyeballing me from the back of her mother's SUV. A likely cover. The mother returned to the truck and went for the keys in her purse, but I knew from my years of combat-honed instincts that she was actually making a furtive movement for an offensive weapon. I attempted a tactical shoulder roll, but fell flat on my face, kind of flopping on the pavement to avoid any incoming rounds and to make it look like I meant to do that. The store owner called 911, which is good, because I then did a roll and attempted to draw my Glock. Unfortunately, since I did not have a holster, the gun went off and the bullet creased my wiener. But I was prepared for that and bit down on a 10mm casing to take my mind off the pain as I dove for the garbage barrel. That's when I noticed the girl scout shouting something to her mother who began to take cover. I knew they were closing on me so I drew my trusty custom 1911 Wilson COMBAT....I knew that they would be impressed with that. I then duck walked to the front of her SUV but my gut kinda got in the way and I fell on my ass, which caused me to swallow my 10mm casing. I then tried to roll to my right, but didn't want to scuff my holster, so I just threw myself into a telephone pole, but I landed on my right side anyway. So I fired one shot towards the woman's SUV to pin them down as I recovered my wind. Before the mother knew what was happening, I charged her and threw my groin into her knee. I knew as I vomited on the ground in front of her that I had interrupted her OODA loop (that's Observe, Orient, Decide and Act for civilian-types), and I had the advantage now. As she ran screaming for the girl scout (I knew she was going for backup), I made for my super-charged BRAT tactical truck. I jumped into the driver seat, forgetting that I had left my rare Israeli contract AR-15 bayonet on the seat (honed to a razors edge). I could handle it though, as half my ass is an implant from war wounds. As I attempted to start my truck, police and paramedics arrived on the scene. My truck would not start and instead backfired once and caused the police to taze me. At this point, I tactically soiled myself while in convulsions. My custom 1911 then fell out the window, but I still had my Centennial .38. I knew then that I had to take out the woman with the purse. So I aimed my revolver at her, at which point the first police officer fired once, striking me in the chest. Fortunately, I was wearing my level 3A body armor. I didn't want to hurt the cops, as they had obviously been duped by the evil temptress who was now embracing her partner in crime and crying to the police in the background - I knew it was a ruse. I pulled out my concealed weapons permit badge and showed it to the officer who shot me, and I yelled out, "I'm one of you guys!!!" He continued to cover me, and ordered me to drop my .38, so I laid it down. After all, I still had my bayonet attached to my ass. The cop walked toward me, and upon reading the badge maced me right in the eyes. Fortunately, my Oakley shooting glasses stopped most of the spray and I was able to rip free of the Taser cords easily. It only cost me one nipple...easily replaced. I dove out the passenger side of my truck and began to run zigzag for a ditch. Unfortunately, the bayonet sticking out of my ass slowed me down. I knew it would have to be hand-to-hand now. I knew the cop couldn't take me when I saw he merely carried a Glock 17, not a man's gun. So I immediately threw my eye into his right hook, followed by a knee into his Maglight. As I lay thrashing on the ground, I took the heel of my Bates enforcer boot and kicked at the cop's ankle. I knew from my classified experiences in Tajikistan that once I broke his ankle, the cop would fall down and I could stun-kick him in the head, knocking him out but not hurting him. Apparently the cop had also been to Tajikistan, because he side-stepped and struck me in the back with his ASP baton, but my trauma plate absorbed it. I then drew my Benchmade auto-knife and was promptly tased again, but I was ready for it this time and only wet myself a little bit. Next thing those cops knew, I was unconscious. That'll teach 'em.