Club Etthica Part 1

    This theme for club Etthica and the story was derived from a short I wrote in one of my notebooks over 12 years ago. The main character is the mix of several folks I know and the others are based off people I have met in my life from so long ago. I just updated some of the techniques the characters used to the 21st century and added a few extra elements. However, the tone, theme ,and story line do remain the same.
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      Melvin Small was in the back alley of an old office building near 5th Street downtown. He wasn't alone. A small line of well dressed people had formed at the only door in the alley with a neon red sign saying only the name Etthica.

     Melvin had been in the club several times before on business of a professional level always. As much as he worked he never had time to make the visit personal. If he ever got the chance he may someday take a nice girl to this place of sin. Just, not at the moment. The owner of the bar, Ms. Savage had a huge crush on Melvin since he had been using the club as a private meeting spot for clients. The huge noise and crowds usually obscured any professional activity. Not that he was doing anything illegal. Just that his clients liked a little anonymity.

     For meeting his clients Melvin was wearing his Sunday best. Two piece black tailored suit with ash gray open collared button up shirt. Under it a level IIA ballistic vest custom cut to look like all he wore was an undershirt. On his left wrist was a black on black Suunto Core. On his right was a woven sage para-cord bracelet he had made while he was overseas. His black boots had a mirror polish on them that anyone could see their reflection in. The belt was a thick black leather range officer's belt that could hold what could not be seen under the jacket. Attached to his belt were several items. On his right hand side about at the three o'clock position was a Zero Concealment Systems black Kydex inside the pants holster. It held his Redrup Custom Shop Glock 19 loaded with Dr. Packett's nastiest Love Potion #9 in plus P. Three spare magazines were in the same ZCS brand holder at his nine o'clock under his left arm.  A Sig Sauer P238 Scorpion with the same custom loads in an ankle holster. His left hip pocket held his keys and a SureFire Backup 200 lumen fighting light. His right pocket a Emerson Karambit combat folder sharpened to a razors edge along with his favorite Zippo lighter given to him by a Chief of Police from a small town he lived in years ago.

     He wore all of this without have to worry about getting checked at the door or at the gate. If you were a VIP, and Melvin was, you would be given a password. A different one every week. This password kept you from getting frisked at the door and at the gate and allowed you to go to the front of the line with an unlimited bar tab for clients. Only six such people enjoyed such a privilege for a yearly fee. He was paid three years in advance in case of slow times. Right now the door was being manned by a six foot five inch Samoan dressed in all black who Melvin remembered was a former MMA fighter and Navy Master at Arms. Very polite when you got him off the clock and sat down with drinking a beer. However, at that door he was a no nonsense machine. He had already turned two couples down ahead of Melvin in line for drugs and weapons. Ms. Savage had a zero tolerance narcotics policy. Weapons were allowed but just to a select few who she knew was responsible enough not to cause trouble.

     It was his turn next in the line. He could see up close that the doorman had been at the gym very often and towered above Melvin by a good eight inches. If he had to ever fight him he would have be dirty as hell to beat him before getting hurt himself. Off course he always fought dirty. Time is money and the longer you took gives someone better odds of getting lucky. However, Melvin smiled and waited to be acknowledged. The dark Samoan looked up from his Ipad VIP list not giving one hint that he knew him. 

     "Password?" the doorman asked.

     Melvin looked him in the eyes. And knew the answer immediately.

     "English," Melvin replied.

     The dark doorman checked his tablet over the weeks passwords and nodded.

     "Your table has been reserved. However, your guests that you reserved it for have not arrived yet. Ms. Savage would like to see you once you come in. She will be at the bar she and I'll text her that you have arrived."

     With saying that he ushered Melvin into the door and down a fifteen foot hallway. He did know that buried in the walls was a scanner that looked for contraband. The latest technology that the owner had "borrowed" from the Department of Homeland Security and Transportation Safety Authority. They were not going to miss it anytime soon from what Melvin understood. He also understood at the end of this hallway was four heavily armed and skilled former Army Rangers waiting for him if he had gotten anything he was not supposed to have that far. The hallway was well lit for security's sake. There was no way to go except in or out. A smart person would not want to get into a shoot out in this narrow corridor. He made his way to the end of the hall and found himself in a small plexiglass cage with four yet again huge men. Two sporting what looked like SCAR 16's that have been severely customized. They all knew Melvin. However, the supervisor asked for the password a second time which Melvin happily gave. Once that was done he could hear two distinct "clicks" of selector levers on carbines going back on safe.

     When the sentry opened the plexiglass door Melvin winced a little at how loud the music was. He knew the Disk Jockey "Spleen" very well. Tonight seemed to be a Techo kind of night for him. He could see him on the balcony in the back of the club dancing to the beat of the music as he looked for the next song on his laptop. Purple was the color of the day for his hair as he changed it almost nightly. He like to dress in S&M garb with an assortment of spiked jewelry. Melvin debated with himself on just how he managed to have a few women hanging off him every night. This night there were two of them again sitting in lounge chairs off behind them in their own S&M costumes. He put the thought out of his head as he took in the scene.

     The club itself was one huge red carpeted room with smaller "VIP booths" situated in the corners for customers to have more privacy with the dancers. In the center was a large circular stage that had four poles that ran from floor to ceiling. On each one was a dancer in some stage of being undressed. On top of the tips that they were allowed to keep Ms. Savage paid them all well so they did not have to "moonlight" to make ends meet. No "working girls" were allowed.

     Scattered around the club were several plexiglass cases filled with ancient swords, knives, and daggers. Two of the cases were filled with snakes of different species. Two of those Melvin recognized as poisonous. Somehow the owner managed to dot the floor with several in ground pots filled with tropical plants from afar. Sun lamps above them provided some of the much needed nourishment. It gave the area a feel and smell of being in a jungle of sorts.

     Off to the side of the stage was the full length bar bar tended by the girls who were not dancing right away. Their outfits revealed just enough to keep the mind curious and come back for a second or third drink. The bar itself was made of ballistic plexiglass and filled with water and tropical fish. Not really seen anywhere else. At the very corner of the bar to the right of Melvin was the owner, Ms. Savage. At five feet even she was a short but plump woman who had always had a love for the finer things in life. She wore a black strapless dress that pushed up her cleavage almost to her neck. She knew Melvin would be here tonight and she had dressed up. However, he had no interest.

     He made his way over to her taking note of the people and of the surrounding to see if anything was out of character for the scene. So far, nothing had caught his attention.

See Part 2

Training in the hills Day 1 Part 1: Oscar Mike

Author and Gretchen headed to camp

     Most think of me as a nerd and a city type kid who can shoot really well while fixing your computer. In most respects they are correct. However, you can do all that and still be able to function outside. 95% of the time my job is outside and hardly ever inside a building. I'm in a car a lot but, I'm also in the elements a lot. I was going to take this weekend as a personal challenge. How can I teach anyone something hard if I have not done it myself. By no means fun.

     A while ago I believed that my training was lacking in the area of outdoor weapons use and working in the wilderness. I have gotten training and guidance from different sources on different subjects over the years of my life. However, I have never put them all together. This was attempted once before in 2009 and my health took a nasty turn. Once I found out what the problem was, and corrected it, I was good to go.

     One of the objectives was to spend three days and two nights out of doors away from civilization on property belonging to a good friend and work on skills that would be used in a Bug Out scenario in the short term sense. An example would be if I had to travel for three days on foot to my objective going through the hills. Could I do it? I would have no help from the outside world. Only relying on what was on my back or had pre-staged as a cache.

USMC ILBE and author's patrol carbine

     The second objective was to practice my rifle work in a wooded setting with high humidity and heat as well as shooting from high and low angles from unknown distances. I wanted to test my rifle setup to make sure it would perform the jobs I wanted it to. Humidy and sweat causes rust and breaks down some lubricants. I was running my Bushmaster XM-15 (aka "Gretchen") with a Trijicon ACOG 4x32 with a flash hider for distance with an offset Aimpoint H-1 micro for 50 yards and in, Troy TRX 15" Alpha rail, Magpul furniture, and surefire light. For training I used XM193. To use for defense and anything that wanted to do me harm I had 5.56mm MK255 in five Pmags that I carried in a chest rig with a Glock 19 in a SERPA hoslter. No body armor this trip. I brought one ProMag 42 round magazine that I had received from a friend for evaluation.To keep my presence as Q-word as possible I kept a Advanced Armament M4 2000 suppressor on the muzzle. Someone could hear the sonic crack but not where the shot came from. It kept my training discreet.

     Keeping Gretchen (my patrol carbine) running smooth I have used FrogLube. The funny thing is that I did not start this trip with a clean gun. I had ran two other range sessions suppressed (the dirtiest way to go) and as fast as I can run the gun. So the internals were already caked up with gunk before the party even began. I have used FrogLube now as an evaluation for about a year. I've ran my guns for at least three training sessions or classes at a time before a cleaning. I have had NO malfunctions due to lubrication in these weapons. Think of this product as seasoning your frying pan. Once it is in the metal you don't have to worry about it. Getting the gear home and cleaning it was very very easy.

     I brought with me a bunch of techie type gear to evaluate for the stay. First one was a Suunto Ambit to keep track of my progress by way of GPS and several other sensors inside the wrist computer. It will keep track of my location, altitude, rate of speed, distance traveled, and average pace. All of this data is downloadable to any computer or the internet. When I looked at my progress I knew I was a slow poke. But, not as slow as 2009. I'll talk about my other gear later that weighted me down.

     Most of my burden would be contained in a USMC ILBE pack that had come from my business partner Mr. Vargas. I found this pack very handy and distributed the weight pretty well. I loaded four days worth of food, two sources of water, gizmos, training ammunition, hygiene items, Cold Steel pipe hawk, cold steel Kukri machete, sleeping bag, Frogg Toggs, TCCC kit, fire starting gear, TP (duh,) , a secondary smaller pack for day 2, and spare changes of clothes. Almost all of this was in complemented waterproof bags that you can pick up at your local WalMart. I did this so that I did not have gear strewn all over the place and I only grabbed the bag I needed at the time. That way if you need to leave in a hurry you don't have to put all your lose stuff in the ruck. You may only have a few minutes to split.

     On a side note the day before the trip I pre-treated all of my shirts, pants, and boot tops with Repel Permanone and allowed it to dry overnight.  This is to keep ticks and fleas off of me when I'm going through the brush. On my skin I used Off Deep Woods spray. After three days outside I went home and stripped down. (I know that was a great mental image) and did not find one flea or tick attached. When I worked for the local Sheriff's Department I would treat my uniforms because more often than not I would have to track a runner or find stolen property in the woods. I took that tip from a close friend of mine that does Heat and Air conditioning service. He is outside even more than me. Lyme disease is soooooooo overrated.

GPS mapping from author's Suunto Ambit

     The private property I would be working on is owned by a good friend of mine who shall remain nameless and the location a secret. It consists of old logging roads, thick vegetation, heavily wooded, steep inclines, high enough ridges, and slippery slopes that make my day more than entertaining. On the property, in the middle of the mess is a small shelter which will be my rest station and sleeping area for the duration of my stay. It is a open style shelter that only shielded me from the rain and gave me some protection from other problems that may arise. Cached there was water and firewood seeing that there were no sources of water on the property. The map says there is a creek but, upon inspection, it had dried up.

     To add a bit of realism I had literally not slept in over 26 hours. So I was already in a wonderful mood. I had worked my regular night shift job, got off duty, went home, prepped my gear, loaded up the kid and equipment and headed on my way. I figured if I needed to go Oscar Mike it would  happen at the worst possible time with the least amount of rest. Around 1500, (3:00 pm for y'all) after taking my oldest daughter to her grandparents I parked my truck in between what I call ranges 1 and 2 on the main access road. I first put on my chest rig that contained my four spare magazines of Mk 255, two magazines for my glock 19 that was in the SERPA holster, a Cold Steel SRK, Gerber Multi tool, and several flexicuffs (don't ask.) I then put on my ILBE, and slung Gretchen in two point sling mode on my person. I weighed myself at the hacienda fully loaded and weighted down at 340 pounds. Ouch.

     The whole trip took just under 30 minutes to travel uphill gradually for 1.1 miles. Yes that is an absolutely HORRIBLE pace to make. But for my first ruck march I'll have to take it. Part of that time was pauses to stop, check my surroundings, make sure I was not being followed by anything, and hydrate. I was supposed to be running this like I was in an unfriendly place. My rifle stayed at low ready and I attempted to make as little noise as possible keeping 360 degree awareness.

Movescount is a web based service for the Suunto Ambit that tracks your travel and adventure data.

     I found myself absolutely soaked by the heat and humidity during my ascent. During this trip hydration was paramount. If I was to fall out for dehydrated or by getting injured from something that I could not fix on site, some poor soul was gonna have to get their off road vehicle and CASEVAC my ass out. You could not get a ambulance to where I was at.The Rocky desert boots I had selected for this trip did the job well. They had already been broken in and my feet hardly hurt at all by the end of the trip. I was going to wear my Vibram FiveFingers but, talked myself out of it. The way up to the top of the ridge was not a straight up hike. The trail had several turns to it most of the time going at a steady grade up. I had to watch where I put my feet seeing most of the trail had deep enough gullies washed out in it and I was right in snake country. I never saw any. Not that I mind snakes. I don't like Pit Bulls personally as well as the occasional bad tempered Chow. I won't lie. The trip up sucked. Not Indian runs at the police academy suck. A suck none the less.

     Continued on Training in the hills Day 1 Part 2: Arrive on scene