As Filipe passed the clips out, Juan eyed Benito. “You come in from the west with Sosa, Miguel. Pedro and Emilio, you back them up. Next he turned to Filipe. You take Jose, Adao, and Nuno. Herberto and Marco you back them up. The rest of you are with me to the north. “We will take up positions here, here, and here,” he said pointing to specific places on the photo. “I will text you on your SCRIBBLER when to move in.”
“What about cross fire,” one of the men said.
“Have you forgotten already? The clips Filipe is handing you are armed with rubber bullets.”
“Rubber bullets?” another man said, with a smirk.
“Si, rubber bullets, asshole. We are here for able men, women, and children to work the operation, unless you want to do all the work.”
There was general laughter all around. Someone sa
