Author’s Notes and Disclaimers:
Sonny Crockett, Rico Tubbs, Stan Switek, Larry Zito, Gina Calabrese, Trudy Joplin, Martin Castillo, Izzy Moreno, Valerie, Caroline Ballard, Billy Crockett, Caitlin Davies, Joey Hardin, Zack Andrews, and Paul Cutter are characters created by Anthony Yerkovich, Michael Mann, Universal Studios, and the writers of Miami Vice. All other characters, with the exception of Michelle Kwan, are my own creation. Any similarities to any persons, living or dead, or any incidents contained in this fanfic is purely coincidental. No money is made from this. This fanfic is purely for the entertainment of the fans of this remarkable television show.

Thank you’s:
I’d like to thank Jessica (Gingerbread_de) for being a test reader and for putting up with me in this long writing process. Most of all, I’d like to thank Belle Book for giving me the inspiration for writing this fanfic and for being such a good friend.

Chapter 1
by Corbon91

It always gave him a bit of an adrenaline rush but he welcomed it. Without it, he felt that it would make him forgetful, complacent, and sloppy. Lieutenant Martin Castillo assembled his team near the side door to the shack. It was hot, sticky summer night in Miami and his constricting uniform wasn’t helping. His old Colt Python .357 Magnum was loaded and ready to go. The rest of his team was armed with more “modern” guns: MP-5 submachine guns, Benelli 12 gauge shotguns, and Sig Sauer .40 caliber handguns. He didn’t feel underarmed however. He knew from his 20 plus years on the force and his time in Vietnam that the only thing that counted was hits. Most of the younger “hot shots” who served under him was more of the “spray and pray” type.

His entry team was ready. It wasn’t going to be a walk in the park, however. The main suspect was one Carl McGurn, 42 years old. He was known to have tie-ins to anti-government groups and was known cop killer. In 1998 he shot and killed a police officer in cold blood in Los Angeles and again in Chicago a year later. He was ruthless and stone cold and he would not let anything get in his way. The prize was a shipment of various military weapons that he had stolen a month before from a military armory. Castillo was also informed that there would be substantial amounts of narcotics including cocaine.

“Switek, have they made the deal yet?” Castillo whispered into his walkie-talkie.

“Almost sir, they’ve gotten through the usual chit chat and now they’re inspecting the merchandise,” Switek replied.

“How’s Sleepy doing?”

“He’s doing pretty well considering the circumstances. If it were me, I’d be peeing in my pants right about now sir.”

“Keep me posted.”

“Yes, sir.”

He caught Sleepy buying some crack cocaine on the street. He was a typical gang-banger. He had knowledge of most of the gangs and other “bad dudes” out there so Castillo made a deal with him: help
him get McGurn and he would drop the drug charges. Sleepy didn’t like dealing with cops but it was better than the joint.

Am I getting too old for this? He thought to himself. Sixty was rapidly approaching him. He looked at his team. They all were in their 20′s or 30′s, kids compared to him. When these kids were born, I was a kid myself in Southeast Asia. His mind reeled at that fact. Most lieutenants would be sitting back in their desks giving orders which he did most of the time but he liked to lead in front where his officers could see him but he couldn’t keep this up forever. He was considering retiring but what would he do? He knew nothing else. He thought about his ex-wife May-Ying. Maybe if he retired, he could get in touch with her and….

“Lieutenant sir, Sleepy’s just made the transaction,” Switek announced.

“Good,” Castillo said. “Team 2, move in. Jackson, ram the door. Move!”

Their job was to cover the back of the shack in case McGurn had get out in a hurry. Jerry Block could see the backdoor through the scope of his suppressed Remington 700 .308 bolt-action rifle. His spotter, Clint Davidson, looked for targets through his spotting scope. Both were former Marines and Gulf war vets, dishonorably discharged for drug trafficking. Both were excellent shooters which is why McGurn hired them. They were approximately 150 yards from the shack. They wore ghillie suits to conceal
them in the woods. The darkness concealed them as well.

Clint had spotted figures moving along the side of the house. They carried guns and one of them appeared to have a battering ram. They had to be cops.

“I got heat on side three. They’re moving into the house,” Clint said to his partner.

“I’m taking a shot,” replied Block.

“Wait!” Clint interrupted. “Sniper on the roof at 1 o’clock, range 250 yards.” Clint knew as well as Block did that the primary target of a sniper, no matter what the situation, is a another sniper. They had the ballistics, the visual range, and the skill to take them out.

“Got ‘em. I’m taking the shot,” whispered Block. He quickly adjusted the bullet drop compensator (BDC) on his scope and placed the crosshairs on the police snipers’ head as he heard the cops ram the
door and soon after gunfire erupted from the house. FUBAR he thought, but first things first. He carefully squeezed the trigger and his rifle chugged once. The sound suppressor on the rifle worked beautifully and very little flash too. He looked at the dead cop’s body slumped over his rifle, his head now a bloody mess.

“Carl’s coming out the back,” Clint said. “He’s being followed!”

“Got it,” Block replied. He quickly worked the action on the rifle and looked through his scope and saw McGurn running across the grassy field. He then moved over to the cop chasing him. He was an older man, Hispanic, probably in his 50′s and had a mustache. Judging by the rank insignia on his uniform, it looked like he was in charge. He would be in charge no more. He was a dead man, Block thought. He re-adjusted the BDC and placed his crosshairs on the man’s chest and stroked the trigger. His shot went a little low. He did notice that he flinched just before he took the shot. He’d have to get out to the range to correct that bad habit. He cursed at himself for that mistake but the result was the same, he was down and out for the count. Mission accomplished, he said to himself. Delta Five 2, Miami cops 0.