To: Counterstrike Force
From: The Fists of Anarchy.

Okay. You know the drill. It’s demand time. We’ve got the hostages and the Artic Warefare Magnums so it’s time to listen up.

And, honestly, we don’t want to hear any complaining, because we all know you sorry punks wouldn’t even be in this position if you had been paying attention instead of playing Dangle the Weasel while a bunch of guys in ski-masks snowboarded out of a helicopter through a plate glass window and took control of the nameless government building you were sworn to protect.

We’re not messing around. We will totally shoot the shit out of these hostages if you don’t do what we tell you. We made a really solemn blood pact before we got in the helicopter. I saw tears.

So give us what we want: five thousand baby ducks. The cutest you can wrangle up. And we want them alive, boys. Don’t even think of yanking our chain.

Shove those adorable little balls of fluff into wooden crates, stacked three high, and leave them at the front door. If you fail to meet our demands by 7PM this evening, we will kill one hostage on the hour, every hour. We’re not fucking around. We’ll do it.

Once we’ve counted the baby ducks, we’ll let the hostages free and fly away in our awesome new helicopter until we’re out of the country (or on an Indian Reservation, we’re still working that part out.)

Consider yourselves fisted by anarchy!