Working as a police officer in Mexico

"Fire two big ones first!"

Responsible for fire support, Gary Sanderson, nicknamed "Roach," quickly approached the convoy with his team members and saw a bunch of people "rescuing" a pickup truck, from which many drug traffickers were climbing out.

He whispered from behind a tree, keeping his voice low.

The two teammates following him, each carrying an M72LAW rocket launcher, had originally intended to use it for assault operations, but to their surprise, the action went smoothly without much resistance.

The two men crouched down.

They pressed the trigger!

Whiz~~!!

The sound of the rocket in the rain was a bit soft and covert, hitting the overturned pickup truck.

Boom! Boom!

The huge shock wave and explosion "blew" away at least thirty drug traffickers nearby; those close enough, those unfortunate enough, were already spitting out blood, obviously not going to make it.

"Ghost" Simon Riley, leading his people, couldn't help but stop and turn back at the sound of the explosion behind him.

"It's started! Let's hurry!" Chemo said.

The other nodded and ran towards their destination.

The blast had left the drug traffickers disoriented, but not all of them were involved in the "rescue"; many were scattered and immediately returned fire upon hearing the explosions!

Drug traffickers emerged from the armored vehicle, wielding machine guns and spraying bullets into the grove, bullets that could leave a hole in a tree large enough for two people to embrace.

"Archer, what are you doing!" roared Gary Sanderson, lying on the ground and shouting into his earpiece, "Are you dead? Have you been killed?"

"Your dad's still alive!"

A sniper's calm voice came through the earpiece.

With a bang, the drug trafficker's machine gun went silent.

Seizing the moment, Gary Sanderson got up and opened fire on the drug traffickers.

After seeing the machine gunner killed, another drug trafficker quickly climbed onto the armored vehicle, attempting to move the body, but as soon that hand touched the corpse, another shot rang out, and half of the body was instantly blown to pieces.

"Sniper! Target area for the fire-god cannon, cover it!"

"Blow those motherfuckers to hell!"

About a dozen drug traffickers dragged over two towed artillery pieces, hastily heaving shells from the transport vehicle, preparing to load them, but they failed to notice the people like "Soap" closing in from behind.

Ratatat… Tat!

A few bursts of gunfire killed four or five drug traffickers, and the remaining artillerymen finally panicked, pulling triggers to the limit.

But their shooting was off, sending bullets all over the place.

Caught in a crossfire, the drug traffickers began to fumble, but they still fought viciously.

"Ammo!"

John McTavish patted his tactical vest, finding it empty, and called out to his teammates behind him, but they shook their heads, "None left!"

MD!

He cursed, throwing his M16 to the ground, left with no choice but to draw his SIG Sauer P226 Pistol.

In battle, one would rather run out of ammo for one's own gun than to pick up an enemy weapon; that was an ironclad rule.

You risk getting hit by friendly fire.

Of course, you need to assess the specific situation; in localized intense conflicts like now, if you use someone else's weapon and the gun sounds off, your own side will finish you off.

On the other side, "Ghost" Simon Riley and his group escorted Guzman's mother to a clearing, where he took out a smoke grenade and tossed it to the ground, sending a green smoke signal up into the air.

"Chemo, Crane, you two stay here and wait; the rest of you come back with me to support," he ordered.

The nighttime battlefield was extremely tense.

The overwhelmed drug traffickers started to call for backup.

"Hello, hello, hello!!! This is Warrior Platoon from Mexico; we're under attack by armed individuals, Kandahar Village is under attack, requesting sup..."

A drug trafficker still using the radio didn't finish talking before his head exploded.

Chunks of flesh and brain matter directly flew into the mouth of someone nearby.

But the drug trafficker did not feel any disgust...

Mexico's Warrior Platoon?

A unit with a number?

You're fighting NMD's elite forces!

"Hello, hello, hello…" The person on the other end of the radio called a couple of times with no response, then cursed softly before overstepping his authority to urgently direct two nearby armed groups, 3,000 men strong, to converge quickly.

That was Guzman's mother they had there!

She couldn't be allowed to come to harm.

Armed helicopters also started to deploy.

The whole of Jin... Sonora State, Sinaloa State, and Chihuahua State had turned into a mess.

John McTavish led the charge, shouting to the others behind him.

"Soap, watch out!" suddenly yelled a teammate from behind.

He turned around just to see a drug trafficker charging out from the side, waving a machete and spouting gibberish.

Spanish?

English?

French?

Or was it even freaking bird language!

The machete struck right on John McTavish's helmet with a bang~

His head went numb.

A wave of nausea surged in his chest.

The drug trafficker was also taken aback.

Such good quality?

The enemy sneered, yelling as he pulled out the machete intending to slash at John's neck, but John McTavish fired two shots straight into the bastard's little XX.

"Ow!"

The drug trafficker collapsed to his knees, out of breath and slumped on the ground.

Dead.

John McTavish kicked his legs hard to back away and, showing the handgun to his fellow teammates, said, "Compact but powerful, right?"

"The caliber's not as big as what you've got downstairs, captain."

Soap chuckled dryly.

On the battlefield, the situation was that drug traffickers were getting pummeled, and an MtC armored vehicle had been approached by Special Combat Team members who stuck a bomb onto it, and boom, blew a hole open.

They riddled the inside with bullets.

All crew members were gone.

"Soap! Vulture has found them, survivors have been spotted, mission accomplished." The assault team spat out the news through the earpiece.

John McTavish, "Retreat! Let's go, call in Polar Bear, anti-air weaponry has been destroyed, request aerial support!"

"Roger that!"

The already annoyed helicopter formation, upon receiving this "good news," flew back after making a circle and dove down, strafing the drug traffickers below with their miniguns!

Rat-tat-tat…rat-tat-tat…

Those shots hitting a human body, tsk tsk tsk, turned them straight into several pieces.
Explore stories on empire

And on the side of the hatch, fire god cannons also hammered the ground with continuous fire.

Some drug traffickers lifted their guns to spray at the helicopters above, but seeing them approach, they ran in panic. Bullets chased their heels until they were split in half from the middle.

"This is Polar Bear, the enemy has been wiped out, Soap, where is your location? Over!"

"Thanks for the support, we are on the southwest side." John McTavish saluted airily towards the helicopter above, then swung towards the front.

"Understood, I see you."

Four Bell 212s landed on an asphalt road; the area was relatively flat.

The Special Combat Team rapidly piled in.

"Takeoff! Takeoff!"

John McTavish sat down and glanced at his watch.

"23 minutes!" "Ghost" Simon Riley leaned over with a smile and said, "An impressive operation."

"Weren't you guys ordered to evacuate first? You've disobeyed a direct order."

Simon Riley was taken aback, "Cut me some slack, I came back to help you."

"Listen, Simon, when we get back, all your drinks are on me, get ready for it."

"? Eh? I thought you were going to take me to the red-light district."

"You're too young, you can't go. It might make you feel inferior."

Humming~

The helicopter formation headed back to Sonora.

...