Outside the hotel on Karntner Ring Road, lined with deciduous trees, bare and lit up with fairy lights, the masked party on the street made it's way west towards Schwarzenbergrplaz then made it ways due north towards Statue Raphael Donner at the intersection of Lothringerstrage.
'You've been using Google Maps,' said Max.
Before I could answer a guy in a pig outfit, four legs and wearing a pig mask, stood out like a sore thumb in the crowd. Underneath, I'm sure he had a bomb. He was looking at detonating it.
Then Habib and Hezbollah, straight out of an ISIS propaganda video started yelling Allah Akbar and were about to thrash around their knives, that glittered sincerely under the fairy lights.
Here we go, I thought as I wrestled Bin Sharden to the ground.
Then I heard two shots.
Max took care of the cavalry with his Glock.
'Nice shooting, partner,' I said, as I demolished the Saudi Arabian with a neck embrace. Before he could reach for his detonation button, he was out, unconscious.
'Go on, finish him,' said Max, who had little tolerance for troublemakers.
When we pulled the mask off his face, staring at us like a stunned mullet, was Stan.
Kumar couldn't be too far away.
'He's here,' said Max, who pulled off the turban wrapped around the face of one of the two dead jihadists.
'He looks more like Horace than Habib,' laughed Max, who suggested we hit a bar and gloat over another successful mission.
'You've been using Google Maps,' said Max.
Before I could answer a guy in a pig outfit, four legs and wearing a pig mask, stood out like a sore thumb in the crowd. Underneath, I'm sure he had a bomb. He was looking at detonating it.
Then Habib and Hezbollah, straight out of an ISIS propaganda video started yelling Allah Akbar and were about to thrash around their knives, that glittered sincerely under the fairy lights.
Here we go, I thought as I wrestled Bin Sharden to the ground.
Then I heard two shots.
Max took care of the cavalry with his Glock.
'Nice shooting, partner,' I said, as I demolished the Saudi Arabian with a neck embrace. Before he could reach for his detonation button, he was out, unconscious.
'Go on, finish him,' said Max, who had little tolerance for troublemakers.
When we pulled the mask off his face, staring at us like a stunned mullet, was Stan.
Kumar couldn't be too far away.
'He's here,' said Max, who pulled off the turban wrapped around the face of one of the two dead jihadists.
'He looks more like Horace than Habib,' laughed Max, who suggested we hit a bar and gloat over another successful mission.
