Working as a police officer in Mexico

July 27, Colombia's new Department of Justice building!?

Ethan Hunt's eyes narrowed.

Could this be the so-called "North American Drug Trafficking Association" meeting place?

Boom boom boom...

Just then, someone was banging loudly on the door outside, shouting, "Hey, you done yet? Asshole!"

Colombians aren't the least bit polite.

Pfft~n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

The person outside clearly had a noisy stomach, as a fart was let loose directly, the stench really fucking went to the brain, Ethan Hunt almost threw up.

"Idio... idiot~ are you done yet?" The voice outside was trembling, even quavering.

Ethan Hunt wasn't in a hurry, when dealing with impolite people, you've got to put aside the helping complex; he took a cig in the room, lit a scrap of paper with a lighter, then used the latter to light his cigarette.

He dropped it into the toilet bowl, flushed the toilet, and watched the paper vanish after a few swirls.

"Quick! Come out! Get the hell out!" The person outside, hearing the flush, shouted excitedly and pulled at the door, but it wouldn't budge.

"No rush, take a smoke."

It quieted down outside, followed by obvious anger, cursing loudly and kicking at the door, which made the stall shake.

Ethan Hunt wasn't anxious at all, but just then, the occupant in the stall next door couldn't take it anymore, opened the door, and the angry person gave them a slap?

That must've been it; I heard the sound.

"Taking a shit so slowly, don't you know to hurry it up? Scram!"

The person who was slapped was clearly aggrieved and shouted that they'd call the police.

"Call the police? I'm from the Medellin Cartel! Go ahead and call, see if the cops dare to arrest me," the taunter shouted.

The person to hear the word 'Medellin' immediately fell silent.

Ethan Hunt's eyes lit up, he pushed open the door and walked out. The Medellin member, hearing the noise, yelled, "Don't you walk away, asshole, wait till I get out!"

"Are you a drug trafficker, sir?" Ethan Hunt knocked on the door and asked.

"No shit! Is the Medellin of Colombia supposed to be a charity? Or maybe a place for your mom to sell pussy?"

"Then that's perfect."

Ethan Hunt opened the black bag he was carrying, pulled out an M18 hand grenade, yanked the pin, and tossed it backhanded into the stall, quickening his pace as he walked away with a cigarette in his mouth.

The drug trafficker taking a shit inside heard no response from outside, thinking the other party was scared, just as he was about to continue the verbal attack, he suddenly felt something hit his back, turned his head, and saw a smoking grenade behind his butt.

His mind went blank...

Boom!!!

The toilet was blown to pieces.

The drug trafficker, pants not even on, lay in a pool of blood, his ass... ass hurting like hell.

The tourists outside, hearing the explosion, were also shocked and screamed as they ran in panic.

However, Ethan Hunt was gentlemanly enough to wash his hands at the sink outside.

You always wash your hands after using the bathroom, right?

This is elegance!

He looked at himself in the mirror, then, carrying his bag, he followed the flow of people.

American Time, July 7, 1990.

The Cambra Valley, located between Baja California and Sonora State.

Once occupied by drug traffickers, Victor, waving the banner of "reclamation" in retaliation, didn't withdraw the police. Instead, he reinforced the area and built a temporary helipad there.

The commander in charge of "Baja California Blade" operation was Kennedy Heisenberg.

As a general under Victor, this kid would rise through the ranks sooner or later.

"Katyusha is in position!"

"Distance to target, 7.7 kilometers!"

A police staff officer shouted.

Uh-huh...

This title of "police staff officer" was also invented by Victor, meaning to assist the police chief in directing the deployment of frontline officers.

Kennedy narrowed his eyes, glancing at his watch.

23:30.

"Bombard the drug trafficker's camp across the Corona River!"

The police staff officer conveyed his command through communications equipment, "Bombard the drug trafficker's camp across the Corona River!"

...

"Fire!!!"

On a position south of the Corona River, 30 Katyusha launchers lined up, firing at the target across the river.

Half of this river was in the United States, the other half in Mexico, the shells couldn't fall over, otherwise, it would really become an international incident.

Nearly 500 rocket projectiles "whoosh whoosh whoosh~" lit up the sky!

Almost half of the Corona River banks were illuminated as if it were daylight.

And on the other side of the river, there was a small village, no, it should be called a town, but this town was actually a sales point for drug traffickers.

How close is it to the United States?

Take a shit, and your smell could waft over.

So, many American drug traffickers, facilitators, mercenaries, or others involved in illegal activities would gather there, forming a "Black Market."

This place certainly wasn't asleep, with many still looking for fun.

Brothels, gambling houses, beast-fighting arenas, it had it all.

A drug trafficker, who had lost everything and was a bit tipsy, was about to head out for a leak, just as he stepped out the door, the sky brightened. He paused, was it already daylight so quickly?

Confused, he looked up, then his eyes widened in shock!

"Rockets... Rocket artillery!!!"

He bellowed, and of course, he wasn't the only one who saw—crazy shouts filled the entire town, some even ran while pulling up their pants.

But the rocket hit directly.

Boom!

Sparks soared into the sky...

Could close to 500 rockets level the town? That was unclear, but they could perform a "pain-free" population reduction.

And after the barrage.

On the Baja California side of the Corona River, Zolf Sherman followed by a thousand officers, in groups of six, carried the assault boats on their shoulders.

When he saw the continuous explosions on the opposite coast.

He raised his hand and shouted, "Charge into Sonora State! Wipe out the drug traffickers! Gentlemen, for freedom! For peace! For new life! Charge!!"

"Charge!!" the officers behind him roared.

A group rushed toward the riverbank, waded into the sea, put the assault boats in the water, pulled the engines, and headed towards the opposite bank.

The Corona River was about 2.5 meters deep and over 200 meters wide, said to harbor crocodiles. To prevent the boats from being overloaded, Zolf Sherman directly discarded unnecessary equipment.

Each person carried a rifle, 120 rounds of ammunition, and two hand grenades, initiating a rudimentary "forced crossing."

Only a few had RPGs!

The other side had no defending troops, because didn't you say in the media you would attack in three days?

Who knew you would launch a raid tonight? This was simply unsportsmanlike!

Did your mother not teach you to keep your word?

Except for a few unlucky boats flipping over, most of the troops made it directly to shore, jumped off the assault boats, and charged towards the shelled town. Experience tales at empire

This is the moment where "Mother's Words" BGM should kick in!

No one worships war, but heroes fight for freedom through war!

"Long live!!"

"Long live Victor!"

"Long live Mexico!"

The officers charged with their noisy slogans.

The "Katyushas" behind them were also powerful, after one round, they fired another!

Zolf Sherman lifted his head, gazed at the few flares in the sky, and listened to the officers' roars beside him, adrenaline surging, a bit exhilarated, he shouted unintelligible things as he charged forward.

Hand-to-hand combat, at any time, depends on courage!

Ratatat...ratatatatatatat!

There was a bunker outside the town? Not destroyed, with drug traffickers huddled inside, who, upon seeing a dense crowd running up, opened fire with a heavy machine gun.

The leading officer was immediately gunned down.

This was an Italian army Breda Model 37 heavy machine gun from World War II!

Zolf Sherman lay on the ground, watching an officer not far from him spit blood and reach out for help, eyes filled with hope.

He reached out his hand, but just as his fingertips grazed the other man's, he saw his head burst open!

The liquid mixed with various flavors splashed into Zolf Sherman's mouth. He stared at the headless corpse, a surge of fury striking his crown!

"Rocket launcher! Where is the rocket launcher?"

"Whoosh~"

Before he finished speaking, a rocket from behind him struck the bunker.

Boom!

It blew the bunker apart. Zolf Sherman let out a growl, stood up, rushed forward with his rifle. Seeing he was about 2 meters away, he slid at an angle, diving into the blasted hole of the bunker.

He was a police officer, armed with an MP5 submachine gun, opening fire on the downed drug traffickers, and the bunker turned out to be connected to a tunnel leading into the town.

Zolf Sherman's guard followed him. The two men held their rifles and charged into the tunnel, dug quite high, almost 1.9 meters, and very wide.

They charged fiercely, and when they turned a corner in the tunnel, Zolf Sherman bumped into someone, staggering down, seeing stars. He quickly shook his head and took a closer look.

He saw four drug traffickers emerge, the one he collided with looking somewhat dizzy. He quickly raised his gun to open fire.

A drug trafficker screamed and lunged at him, grabbing Zolf Sherman's neck.

The two struggled in close combat.

The other drug traffickers were "ganging up" on the officer, pinning his head down, pulling out a Dagger to plunge it in.

The officer blocked with his hand, and the Dagger penetrated his palm, causing him to scream in pain.

Zolf Sherman also became fierce, biting the drug trafficker's neck, pulling with force, tearing off a piece of flesh.

That's where the carotid artery was...

"Damn it!"

Zolf Sherman picked up the MP5 from the ground, killed the downed drug trafficker, and then fired a burst at the drug traffickers attacking his officer.

He pressed down on the trigger without letting go!

Ratatat...

The walls of the tunnel were riddled with bullet holes.

"Are you okay?" Zolf Sherman helped up the officer, who still had the Dagger in his palm. He couldn't just pull it out; if he damaged the tendons, the hand would be useless.

"Go back! Go back!"

His adrenaline finally began to subside, no longer high, as calm took the high ground once again. He supported the officer as they retreated.

On the battlefield...

The officers had no idea their boss had nearly been killed. They just kept charging and opened fire upon seeing anyone still alive.

"I surrender! I surrender! Don't kill me." A few Americans raised their hands, kneeling on the ground, shouting in terror.

The officers fired a volley of bullets.

Damn it!

It was too noisy on the battlefield to understand what they were saying.

...