Showdown At Ft. Baxter
Jose Philipe Mendola

Legal Notice: Ft. Baxter, Tommy Vercetti and any other names mentioned in this Fic are not mine. Rockstar and RockstarNorth copyright them. If you work for either and both, I am honored that you have decided to read my fic, but please, don't sue.

Authors Note: Sure, we all see them wandering around at the air base, but do we ever wonder who they are, or what they go thru every time a maniac wielding a gun comes by? This fic is dedicated to the many Armed Servicemen at Fort Baxter Air Base.

It was another quiet afternoon on the grounds of Fort Baxter. The guard shift had just changed, and now men were switching posts. Some were coming, others going. Many lingered outside the building, or near the hangers and enjoyed a cigarette or two. It was, excluding the delivery trucks, a quiet day.

Private First Class James looked down from his post on the western tower. He could see the changing of the guards, but he did not see his own replacements. It was no real problem, being a few minutes late or two, but James was tired. He had been put on guard duty all night, and after his 10 hours, Richard was supposed to relieve him. James re-adjusted the M-16 on his shoulder. It had not moved much, except for the constant shifting. He made another round around the overhang. He came to the platform that overlooked the street and positioned his shoulder on the rail. The sun was up, and it would be hot soon.

James heard the sound of heavy boots clunking on the metal stairs behind him. He turned to see Richard walking up the stairs. James turned, adjusted both his rifle and hat, and saluted his Lieutenant.

'At ease.' Richard said. 'Your all set to switch. I'll take it from here.'

James saluted again, and headed off toward the stairs. Before he began to descend, he took the key out of his pocket and put it on top of the weapons locker that was in the small room that also held the stairs. Inside the locker was more Ammunition; a few stun grenades, and an M-60.

'Lieutenant Richard.' James said

'Yes private?' Rich said

'The key is on the locker. Just be sure you don't forget about it.'

Rich nodded and James headed off down the metal stairs. All Rich heard was the receding clink of boots on the metal stairs. Rich then un-slung his M- 16 from his shoulder, ejected the magazine, and put it back in when he saw it was full.

'All set for a war.' He said to himself.

Rich had no idea how right he was, and how soon it would be proven.

Rich was just rounding the corner of the tower when he heard the distant sound of gunfire. He knew his firearms ever well, and he could tell right off that it was a Military Issued MP5. Rich picked up the binoculars that occupied a small table on the catwalk. He put them up to his eyes and looked down the street.

Rich saw a man, in what looked like a green jumpsuit and white hockey mask running from a squad of Security guards. The man would turn around on occasion, and loose a few rounds in their general direction. Once or twice, one would get hit and go down in a rain of blood and gore. The rest would fire upon the man with their .45's. It seemed that the unknown assailant was heading right for the base.

Rich saw the man jump in front of a car, point the gun at the driver, and haul him out of the drivers seat. He then turned around, and shot the closest security guard. He then got in the vehicle (it was a fairly new Bobcat) and floored the gas pedal. The truck went careening into the slow- moving guards. One dove out of the way, the other two were turned into road kill. The truck spun into a 180 and the other guard regained his feet. The truck sped past him, and he put a few bullet holes in the side. The truck was nearing the front entrance of the base, and that's when rich decided to act.

Rich spun around and sounded the alarm. From the speakers on top of the guard towers and on the roof of the main building, the klaxon alarm sounded and warned of an attack. Rich turned back to the street just in time to see a Bobcat smash through the main entrance. A few servicemen dove out of the way, but one was clipped by the bumper of the vehicle. Rich took his rifle off his shoulder and aimed it at the driver's side door of the truck. He was aware that no hostile movements were made yet, but that the clipping of the officer may have been an accident due to gunshot wound. If the driver was indeed wounded, there would be no bullets coming from any military personnel.

Other men in uniforms took refuge behind sandbag bunkers and walls. Also, two more rifles from the other tower were trained on the vehicle. Any hostile action would result in many a bullet going into the car.

The door to the truck opened, and Rich saw a man ½ fall out. He appeared to be hurt, but possibly from the crash. He looked around, and seemed to find a target.

One not-so lucky bastard was not protected very well, but was out in the open with his gun trained on the man. Said man seemed to reach into his jumpsuit, and pull out a nasty looking revolver. Before anyone could react, he shot the unguarded army officer and took off running toward the hanger.

M-16's began their deadly chatter as the man ran for cover. He turned to shoot on occasion, sometimes missing military personnel; other times winging them, and sometimes landing a kill shot. More and more bullets were flung in his direction, but most seemed to miss and hit the ground around him.

Before Rich could respond to the threat, he heard his radio crackle for attention. Rich turned away from the carnage and fumbled for his radio. He dropped it once and kneeled down to retrieve it. He figured that this was the safest spot to be at the moment, so he remained on one knee while he talked.

'This is lieutenant Richard. Do you read me? Over.'

All Rich could hear for a second was static. He also heard the chattering of other military units that were caught up in the same firefight he was. Things were not going well. whoever this person was, he was well armed.

'This is Sergeant Major Dickerson.' The voice responded. 'I have a confirmer report of hostile action in the vicinity. I want you to use all means necessary to neutralist the threat. We already have 5 men down, and I don't want anymore stiff's on my hands. Do you understand Lieutenant?'

'Sir, yes sir.' Rich said into the radio. 'Loud and clear.'

'Good.' The Sergeant Major said. 'Out.'

Rich shut off his radio and put it back on its shelf. He had moved just in time as a hail of enemy fire hit where his leg once was. Rich fell to the floor and crawled his way toward the weapons cabinet that was across the room. He could still hear sounds of gunfire when he reached the key. After retrieving it from it's resting place atop the cabinet, he put the key into the lock and opened the cabinet.

It had been a while since rich had last used an M-60. It was simple enough. Just load it, and point it at what you wanted dead. It was a chain fed weapon that stood on it's own bi-pod. If used by a big enough person, one man could carry it. If not, one would carry it and another feed in the ammo. Lucky for Rich that there was just enough ammo boxes to get the job done. Rich opened the top latch of the M-60 and opened the ammunition box and put the first bullet in a chain of 100 into the automatic giver of death, and made his way toward the edge of the platform.

The gunfight was going pretty bad. It looked as if the Mystery man had packed a few surprises for the Military. It was confirmed that he was carrying on him an Mp5, a SPAS shotgun, an automatic rifle that was picked up off a dead Military officer and, judging by the destroyed Humvees and other such vehicles, a few grenades too. Not to mention the Magnum revolver he was packing too.

The mystery assailant was currently holed up behind a sandbag bunker that other forces had either died protecting, or had retreated out of. Either way, this ended now.

The man I the mask spotted a small group of commingling soldiers in a bunker. He picked up his MP5 and laid into them. He was either shooting at them to keep their heads down, or trying to kill them. Either way, he was playing it smart. He stopped his spray of deadly fire and looked around, possibly for an opening.

Rich was going to waste no time.

Rich had moved the muzzle of the gun under the bottom pole of the handrail on the catwalk. From there, he could cover about 180 degrees and get a good angle on the ground below. As soon as rich saw the man move to run, Rich made his move.

He squeezed the trigger and felt every bullet come out of the gun. Each ejecting shell made a sharp pinging sound on the catwalk. Each shell casing marked another possible hit on the masked man. He saw the gory spray escaping from the back of the shooter. Each bullet put a hole in the man about the size of a golf ball. He was as good as dead.

Tommy Vercetti had seen the man in the tower earlier. But he had never figured that he had that big of a weapon up there with him. He was now looking down the barrel of an M-60. That was the last place anyone wanted to be, ever. The last thing he heard was the sound of heavy shells pounding into his chest. Most passed right though him only to leave craters in the pavement below him, and some missed entirely. Tommy never had the chance to try and run, the last mistake had made was getting up from behind the bunker.

'Cease fire!' Yelled a man in camouflage on the ground. The command was echoed through the compound. 'Lock weapons! If he moves, shoot him!'

One man moved toward the now bloody mess of a man. He was full of ragged holes, and he was still clutching his MP5. The ground around him was pocked with craters, and they were all filling up with his blood. The spreading pool of blood was still moving further out, making the ground itself feel tacky. As the soldier approached the man, he leveled his rifle as the corpse. Using the end of his weapon, he prodded the body and took a quick step back. The sound of cocking weapons filled the air. All else was silent.

The 'All clear' was eventually given, and a crew was sent in to clean up the bodies. Rich walked back to the cabinet and put the M-60 back in its holder. He then shut the locker and locked it. He slung his M-16 back on his shoulder and gave one more look out to the battlefield. Recovery teams were taking away the wounded, and pulling sheets over others. Rich turned back to the road and started his patrol again.

Rich knew that he'd be back. Sure enough, he'd be back.

Author's Final Thoughts: Well, I put some though into it, and I figured that this would make a fairly good fic. now that you have read it, care to comment on it? Tell me what you liked, didn't like.. How I could have done better. or if you'd like to see another minor character get his own fic. love to get some feed back.