Working as a police officer in Mexico-Chapter 570 - 353: We Have a Spy Inside!_2

Whooosh!

The Captain's eyes bulged as he struggled, but a dagger stylishly plunged into his neck's artery, spraying out a gush of blood. The blood groove on the combat knife hastened the bleeding, and it didn't take long before he stopped moving.

Simon Riley, with his face covered in camouflage paint named "Ghost," pulled out the dagger and signaled to his surroundings before crouching down.

About a dozen people then emerged from the rainforest's underbrush nearby.

141st Special Task Force!

Now known as: 141st Special Battalion of the Mexican Army!

Victor was well aware of the necessity of special operations on the modern battlefield, growing the original roster of 89 to a force of 312, with the former Chief Warrant Officer John McTavish leading as the battalion commander, now a Colonel!

The 312 were selected from a pool of 100,000 troops at the Northern Governorship.

Selection was voluntary with recommendations from units, lasting for one month, and involved rigorous stages; over 3,000 applied but only 200 were chosen. The ratio seemed high, but these 3,000 were already the elite of their units.

The death rate was exceedingly high.

The final selection criterion was for groups of five rookies to be given a name by the command to seek and kill!

Of course, it wouldn't be too hard; they couldn't possibly be asked to kill some top drug trafficker, after all—most targets were leaders of drug cartels in border areas.

If you died, it meant mission failure.

Only true heroes could join the 141st Special Task Force!

In the first selection, over 500 of the 3,000 candidates made it to the last round; some waived their right, while others failed.

It must be said, the soldiers bred in this culling method were certainly fighters.

And Victor wasn't stingy either; joining meant you became an officer, with a Lieutenant's salary significantly higher than a regular army's Captain.

Upon receiving the order to eliminate the missile battalion, a total of 11 teams were dispatched to infiltrate the given coordinates.

Simon Riley made a flanking maneuver gesture, leading his men along the edge of darkness, with silencers attached to their assault rifles. Hey, they even managed to sneak in and charged into the clearing where two missile launch trucks were parked. Without a second thought, they attached the timed explosives to the vehicles.

Then, with a wave of his hand, they ran.

These drug traffickers had no vigilance at all!

The countdown began...

100 seconds!

As Simon Riley approached the wooden cabin from which the Captain had come out, he swiftly moved to the side, blasting away inside!

Several officers inside, already drunk and disheveled, couldn't react in time and were taken down.

As gunfire erupted here, the Special Forces infiltrating the area also tossed hand grenades into the sleeping quarters of soldiers who were sound asleep!

Boom!

A blast sounded off, followed by doors flung open and light machine guns raking the interior.

Looking for people?

For what people!

Just spray TMD— that's correct.

This content is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

Those inside had no time to react before collapsing in their underwear, soaked in pools of blood.

On-duty personnel who heard the noise finally reacted, shouting as they sounded the alarm bell. The whole camp was instantly thrown into chaos.

Whirrrrr!

"Where are the people? Where are they?" Other officers were clueless, their clothes a messy array, looking no better than beggars.

"Retreat, retreat!" Simon Riley certainly wasn't going to engage in a protracted fight. The use of Special Forces was "special operations." Imagine making them defend like frontline troops—why court unnecessary suffering?

When the rocket launchers arrived, they'd simply blast them to dust.

Don't mythologize Special Forces too much.

Look, don't Indian operations often go wrong?

100 seconds...

1 second...

The timed bomb reached its mark, gathered strength, and exploded!

Boom!

A gigantic, visible shockwave obliterated everything nearby. Those drug traffickers hadn't even finished blinking before they were senselessly sent to their deaths.

The nearby tropical rainforest trees were blown down.

The wildlife lurking in the dark scattered in panic.

Atop a distant sycamore tree, a cheetah, wide-eyed, stared at the distant fireball with human-like horror in its gaze. Its fur bristled, and it let out a low growl from its throat.

But it quickly fled, tail tucked between its legs.

It could feel the terror approaching!

By then, Simon Riley and his men were long gone in their specially modified assault vehicles, not even looking back at the explosion behind them.

Real men never look back at explosions.

With such a blast, there should probably, possibly, maybe be no survivors.

Even if you were a Gundam, now you'd have to call daddy.

Racing towards Michoacan.

But not every operation went smoothly; at the border between Coahuila State and New Leon, the 141st Special Task Force conducting the attack encountered enemy counterattacks!

The team leader, nicknamed "Private" Joseph Allen, stepped on an "land mine" on the outer perimeter.

Shit!

The drug traffickers here were experienced, accustomed to being ambushed, with land mines set up on the outside. Stepping on one would surely cause an explosion!

Joseph Allen died instantly!

Without their leader, the highest-ranking officer naturally took command of the Special Forces, but the drug traffickers inside also reacted. Those people's combat strength was obviously unusual.

Don't stick your head out.

Stay behind cover and drag it out with the assault team, waiting for troops to circle around and hit them from behind.

"Retreat, retreat!" Scarecrow, taking over command, yelled into his headset, patted the teammate beside him, and signaled him to fall back.

"Rocket launcher, suppress the enemy fire!"

A burly gunner hoisted an M136 AT4 rocket launcher onto his shoulder and fired at a drug trafficker hiding nearby!

Phew~

As the rocket flew over, the drug trafficker, scared out of his wits, ran out with legs high—did he cover his ass?

Boom!!

The explosion directly flipped those unable to dodge it.

The M136 AT4 rocket launcher was cheap, less than 1500 US Dollars, making it ideal for carrying along. Recently, drug traffickers from the south also began arming themselves on a large scale.

This thing...

Really cheap.

After the explosion, Scarecrow led the retreat, with the drug traffickers relentlessly in pursuit, even unleashing dogs, as if determined to hunt them down to the end.

"Call for border support!"

The man following Scarecrow half crouched down and sent a distress signal through the calling location system according to the order.

Of course, it wasn't the advanced Joint Fire Support System (JFSS JASMINE) - JTAC that the U.S. Military hasn't yet fielded.

The 141st Task Force is now using a system responsible for positioning and emitting distress signals, dispatching troops for reinforcement based on those signals.

Emphasize one word: Fortified!

Basically exceeding many countries, with close to 300 countries globally, Mexico's military power, without boasting, is definitely in the top fifteen!

That's being modest.

Not modest?

Top ten!

As Scarecrow led his soldiers in the retreat, running all night, exhausted and spent, those damn drug traffickers were still constantly in pursuit!

Approaching the border, ammunition dwindled.

Just when he thought they would sacrifice their lives.

Two Mi-8s rushed over against the dawn's twilight.

The pursuing drug traffickers' faces changed drastically at the sight; they turned tail and ran.

NMD, where's your martial honor, calling for reinforcements in a one-on-one?

Ratatat!

The machine guns on the Mi-8s licked the ground, not at all concerned with dirtiness.

The drug traffickers screamed out in pain, but they also dispersed expertly—armed helicopters can't split into several halves to chase, can they?

This bunch of drug traffickers was experienced!

Veterans through and through.

Maybe...

They were Yanks?

...

Yucatan Peninsula, Cancun City.

Bang! Bang! Bang!!

"Grandmaster" Abrego slammed the table furiously, eyes filled with rage, "We have a traitor among us!"

He was about to retaliate against Tijuana when his location was assaulted in the night.

And with such accuracy, how can that be?

Abrego's gaze swept over everyone.

"Boss, you know I couldn't possibly betray the organization. My parents were all killed by Victor," said a bearded man raising his hand.

"I too; I was so scared by Victor's artillery I developed ED; there's no living under the same sky for me and them!"

Abrego's gaze lingered on everyone until settling on Ethan Hunt, with a complex look in his eyes.

"Victor, what about you? You're in charge of intelligence."

"In three days, I'll have it figured out!" Ethan's eyes were fierce, "Such scum must be slaughtered; they're destroying our interests!"

Hmm...

Ferocity deserves swearing.

Abrego's eyes flickered, staring intently at him. Compared to others, after so many years in the game, he always felt there was something inscrutable about him.

"Alright, that's enough. Dismissed. Leave this matter to Victor."

Everyone was unaware of why he changed his approach so quickly, but they obediently left.

"Wait, Victor, there's something I need to tell you."

Ethan was about to leave but got stopped. Still, he nodded and stayed waiting for everyone to leave.

Abrego looked at him...

"In four days, a Wild Kid squad will be coming to offer guidance. They will be launching an attack against the border then; you'll be in charge."

Ethan Hunt furrowed his brows.

He always felt there was something fishy here!

...