A little later, I was thinking "Doesn't this guy have a life?" He finally decided to talk to me.
"Hey." His voice was soft and solicitous. "You okay?"
"Can I move my head?" I asked him.
"Sure. Go ahead and sit or stand up" was his reply. I decided to stand up.
I moved slowly and braced myself for the pain. It didn't come. Instead I got to see the cause of my it. He watched me calmly while I looked him over. He was squatting on his haunches. I knew him. Not him personally. The type. We had used them as shooters and perimeter security. Often they were the ones who located and took down the client. Then we would take over, hood them, and transport them to the waiting Gulfstream, I could talk to him.
"You a vet? Black ops? I did a little of that. " While I waited for his reply I turned my head and blew snot, blood, an a ant or two onto the leaves.
He didn't say anything at first. Then he said "Tell me what you were doing." Left unsaid was what was going to happen if I didn't answer correctly. I was beginning to think I was going to get out of this alive. I also thought I could take him if I got a chance. Take away the weapons and I was a lot better then most of these guys.
So I told him "I was scoping out the bank. I'm the head of a Burner group here." I waited for the recognition of the name. I mean we were major media lately. I got nothing. Nada. We might do an Op here and..." He came out of the squat, snapped a kick into my solar plexus, and was back to squatting before I finished throwing up. Holy Jesus he was fast. I was laid out again. At least this time it wasn't face first in the dirt. I was back on knees and seriously considering going fetal for a couple of minutes. "Maybe he would go away if I did" passed through my mind. Not going to happen. This I knew. I wouldn't have. I would be just getting started.