Working as a police officer in Mexico

They finally found the mother and daughter who had been sold into slavery, while the father and eldest son had their organs trafficked by the local crime organization.

"You think it's a joke that a person's worth half a million US dollars on the black market?"

Of course, it's not that you're worth half a million dollars, but that the crime organization can make that much money after selling your body parts to those in need.

Victor was well aware of the "Street of Hell".

He gave the orders: Strike with the force of thunder!

Kill all those bastards!

"Captain, approaching 'Street of Hell'!" came the voice from the communication device in the lead car.

"Flatten them!" commanded Zolf Sherman.

It wasn't just about talking of flattening, but literally... physically!

200 officers each carried a Soviet PRO-A model 93mm rocket launcher!

This thing had a caliber of 93mm!

Each weighed 12 kilograms.

Capable of firing Aerosol Bombs!

Shit!

What's the most difficult thing to fight in street battles? Victor didn't want to pay compensation, so since it's a siege unit, what's wrong with having more firepower?

Don't talk nonsense.

Victor now had plenty of points!

Didn't the Yanks preach something about "Van Creveld's casualty theory"?

Well, I'll coin a new term myself: "Victor's ammunition expenditure!"

If the caliber isn't big enough and the firepower isn't fierce, it really is very insecure.

God forbid you don't kill a drug trafficker with one blast. What if they suffer?

Then just load more TNT, claim their souls with one shot.

"Street of Hell"?

I'll immerse you in flames right now.

When I arrived at the entrance of the street, it was eerily quiet?

Fires of battle echoed everywhere else, but here things were quiet. Did you think Zolf Sherman was being fed for nothing?

The officers didn't rush in. Instead, at the entrance to the street, they lined up in groups of ten, with assisting personnel on the side, setting up "Shmel-2" individual airburst bombs!

In the innermost room next to the street.

Four or five drug traffickers crouched, holding their breath, ready to mow down the police from above as soon as they rushed in!

There was even a person holding an RPG, intended to blow up armored vehicles.

Today, they wouldn't be going back alive.

"Kipo, crawl over and take a look," whispered the leader-looking drug trafficker to a subordinate by the window. The latter scurried up, and carefully poked his head out, looking sneaky and rat-like.

His eyes fixed on the entrance of the street and suddenly widened!

"Kipo? Kipo?" The small boss called out and when he got no response, he threw a water bottle at him.

The subordinate twitched, shot up and, to the shock of everyone, turned and ran, screaming in terror, "Kipo, Kipo! Fuck, run, run!!!!"

"Fire!"

At the commander's order, the officers pulled their triggers.

Whizzing sounds filled the air~

The Aerosol Bombs flew in, hit the walls, and before the boss could curse, he was instantly engulfed by the explosion's shockwave and flames!

Aerosol Bombs are not explosives!

They are a type of high-energy fuel, relying on oxygen from the surrounding air in the blast area rather than an explosive's own oxidizers. Upon ignition under certain conditions, the aerosol explosive is scattered, mixes with the air, and detonates violently; some refer to this phenomenon as an Aerosol Bomb Detonation.

So...

From the outside, it looked like a fireworks display in full bloom.

"Next group!"

The officers behind him hurried to follow suit, kneeling on one knee and continuing the bombardment just like the previous group.

200 men... 20 rounds.

The entire street was indeed demolished.

No cries from the drug traffickers were heard. Instead, some panicked and jumped from the second floor, but before they could steady themselves, the "Weasel" above unleashed machine-gun fire, shredding them into pieces.

The Aerosol Bomb could breach even bunkers, let alone small houses?

Some buildings simply collapsed, unable to withstand the blast, the air thick with dust.

Even if the building collapsed, Zolf Sherman wasn't in a hurry. He insisted on strictly following Victor's tactics, to blow up all 200 people…

From today on, Hell District is no more!

In the future, this place will become a "Moral Exemplar" demonstration zone.

It would take nearly an hour and a half to blow up 200 people, and only then did Zolf Sherman glance at his watch and signal the infantry (police officers) to advance.

"Taking strongholds isn't that difficult," he said to his deputy beside him.

The latter sported an embarrassed smile.

You've blown up even the ants, of course, it wouldn't be difficult.

A team of 10 was searching the ruins when a rookie wearing a trainee officer's badge suddenly shouted, "Captain, there are sounds over here!"

The Sergeant in the lead hurried over and saw in a triangular pile of rubble calls for help. He looked down to see four drug traffickers pinned under!

But two of them were already dead, and the other two were weakly crying out. Seeing the shadow of someone outside, they reached out, "Save me!"

The Sergeant was delighted, stood up, and said, "How many new officers do we have?"

The trainee officers raised their hands, four people.

He frowned, "Not enough to go around, well, pull the pin on your grenades and throw them in!"

"Captain… aren't we going to save them?" A trainee officer suddenly asked.

All the veteran officers laughed, and the captain, furious, gave him a kick, "Save your NM, who recruited you, is there a need to save drug traffickers?"

"When we got here, the drug traffickers were already dead!"

The trainee officer was scolded until his face turned red.

The captain handed him a grenade, "Throw it in and blow them up!"

The trainee officer turned his head and saw the drug trafficker weakly looking up, their eyes brimming with a desire to live.

If you didn't see a person, blowing them up wouldn't really cause any adverse reaction, but when you truly see your opponent, seeing them die would make you tremble inside.

"They're drug traffickers! By blowing them up you can save more families," the captain said coldly from behind, "If you're not going to do it, get out of EDTV! We don't need cowards here!"

"To forgive a drug trafficker is to betray the people!"

"Think about the civilians they've killed, think about the tragedies you've seen!"

Every week, the Counter-Terrorism Mobile Unit would play videos of the brutal methods employed by drug traffickers around the world, all to stir up a sense of professional identity and mission in the new officers!

"Aaaah!" Remembering the photos he had seen, the trainee officer pulled the pin on the grenade and threw it into the hole.

Beng!

The voices inside immediately ceased.

The captain nodded in satisfaction, having each new officer throw a grenade, ensuring to blow up the dead a few more times.

"Keep searching, anyone who finds a drug trafficker gets an extra meal tonight!"

"Captain, I heard there was supposed to be war reporters? Why haven't we seen any? If this just happened was broadcasted, it would guarantee a huge reputation for EDTV," a veteran officer whispered.

"You want to be on TV now?"

The veteran officer smiled, "I used to be afraid of being on TV, but what's there to fear now? My whole family is in Mexicali city, perfectly safe. It's best to seize the limelight when you can."

The captain nodded, "Okay, I'll ask about it for you later!"

The main reason was that they had advanced too quickly.

The "production crew" wearing bulletproof vests followed the main force.

Victor planned to use this material to make a documentary, then let everyone see the "brutality of the drug war."

Most importantly, to show those pitiful drug traffickers' scum what real heroes look like!

"Dear viewers, we are here on Constitution Avenue in Tijuana, where the Anti-Drug Force is facing fierce resistance from a drug trafficking group!"

The female reporter, wearing a helmet and holding a microphone, shouted loudly, primarily because the gunfire was too intense.

The camera swung around to see a "Weasel" burning in the middle of Constitution Avenue, with drug traffickers taking cover behind barricades, returning fire.

"Make way! Make way!"

Officers carrying stretchers came down from the front line as the production crew hurriedly cleared the way, with the cameraman pointing the lens at the wounded.

The officer on the stretcher opened his mouth halfway, his black police uniform torn apart, his left leg completely gone, and his right arm missing as well, with blood seeping out and his face pale with agony!

In the jostling, a piece of paper fell out of the wounded man's trouser pocket, unnoticed by most, but the female reporter saw it.

She squatted down, picked it up, and curiously unfolded it, flinching at the words she saw, but tears instantly streamed down as she turned the paper over, "Friends, this was written by an anti-drug police officer."

She spread it out shakily.

Her finger tracing the words, she read aloud: Mom, if I am to be sacrificed, please bury me under the sycamore tree I love, I adore the scent there, and remember to inscribe on my tombstone: A warrior who feared pain, yet was extraordinarily brave!

Love you all.

"My body and soul shall perish with the drug traffickers, long live Mexico! Long live the drug war! Long live the greatest and eternal cause of mankind!!"