You're spending a stormy day indoors in your living room when you hear the sound of a few vehicles pulling up on your street. When you look outside, you see it's three black Chevrolet Suburbans.

It's unusual, but you shrug it off. You continue doing what you were doing, until you hear the footsteps of a lot of people outside your house followed by,

"FBI, OPEN UP!"

When you rush to open the door, you find a guy in a blue windbreaker at your doorstep. He's holding a black Desert Eagle, pointed at you. There's several men dressed in outdated tactical gear like PASGT helmets and RBA vests behind him, all armed with M1928 Thompson submachine guns chambered in 10mm Auto while still wearing their normal windbreakers and pants.

"Alright, get on the ground and put your-" The man pauses, and removes his black Oakleys.

After determining that you probably aren't someone who can't set people on fire with his mind, turn invisible, or open portals to pocket dimensions, he sighs and puts his glasses back on.

"Oh...Uh, we might have the wrong house here, boys," he says over his shoulder to his squad, turning back to you. "I'm sorry, I don't think you're who we're looking for."

Whoever these guys are, you're lucky they decided not to take advantage of their no-knock warrant doctrine. But what are they doing here...?