Working as a police officer in Mexico

The 6 square kilometers "Emmisi Steel Factory" was established in 1940 when Spain was tightening its belt to support Germany's ambitions.

This steel factory was a product of that time.

It was hoped that when the time came to fight on the American homeland, the Emmisi Steel Factory would be able to help, but sadly, the Germans froze to death on the land of Siberia.

In terms of hirsute abundance, clearly, the Germans couldn't withstand the Slavs.

Moreover, to prevent air raids by the Yanks, the reinforced concrete of the Emmisi Steel Factory was even more solid than an author's steely determination.

When these 4,800 rockets with nearly 38 tons of explosives hit this 6 square kilometers area, many buildings didn't even budge.

It was outrageous, downright ridiculous—insanity at its peak.

At this time, the ground forces had to move out.

War will never be separated from humanity!

The most primitive combat still depended on people.

An AMX-10P infantry fighting vehicle, shrouded in smoke, burrowed through the rubble like a lone hero, its 7.62mm machine gun firing at corners where enemies might hide.

"Bearing 10 o'clock, get the cannon ready!" the tank commander shouted through his periscope. He saw two drug traffickers' silhouettes and yelled loudly.

"Ready!"

The drug traffickers also spotted them, panicking as they lifted their RPGs, taking aim while half-kneeling!

"Fire! Fire! Fire!" the tank commander yelled, sweating profusely.

The gunner immediately pressed the button, and bam! The 20mm cannon fired a round furiously, while the RPG was also triggered, its armor-piercing round charging toward the infantry fighting vehicle.

The two rounds passed each other like lovers brushing shoulders, with clearly neither playing sycophant, not even glancing back as they each rushed toward their target.

"Turn! Turn!" the tank commander bellowed.

Bang...

The armor-piercing round struck the side, blowing off half the face of the AMX-10P infantry fighting vehicle. French goods are just so damn fragile!

The driver in the front left seat had his head obliterated by the massive shockwave—a direct hit to the soul!

And that single round from the infantry fighting vehicle's cannon also slammed into the wall behind the traffickers, bringing it down on top of them, as the blood seeped out from the wall.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The knocked-out AMX-10P infantry fighting vehicle's door shuddered violently, as if someone inside was kicking hard against it.

Bang!

The metal door swung open, and a figure climbed out in disarray, face covered in grime, kneeling on the ground and violently retching. When he stood, he was still unsteady—the blast wave... clearly shook his brain.

Out of the seven people seated in the fighting vehicle, he was the only one alive!

The AMX-10P infantry fighting vehicle was indeed thin; let's put it this way, your Durex is even thicker, and slipping it over your head would still offer no sense of security.

Sometimes, large-caliber assault rifles or sniper rifles could penetrate this thin armor. In war, luck plays a role too.

The sole surviving officer, abandoning helmet and armor, dropped his weapon and turned to run outside. Just as he dashed out, a crisp gunshot rang out, and he froze in an instant.

His helmet flew off, and he pitched forward to the ground, a bullet hole in his neck.

Sniper!

From a corner of a two-story building at an angle, a drug trafficker ducked down, wearing a mask with "The Reaper from Los Zetas" written on it!

He held an Italian-made Beretta 7.62mm sniper rifle, his eyes indifferent, like those of a veteran soldier accustomed to front-line battles.

Damn, the Sinaloa Drug Cartel had pulled out all the stops.

He stood up again, peering outside, and spotted police officers approaching in a fan-shaped formation, crouching down.

The drug trafficker calmly drew his gun, aimed at an officer's neck, squinted his eyes, and pulled the trigger!

Pop!

The officer's head dropped, and he collapsed thunderously.

"Aerosol Bomb! Up the firepower!"

A Senior Police Sergeant shouted from behind a ruined stone wall.

For ground troops, carrying an RPO-A "Bumblebee" launcher is quite normal, right? And it's even more normal to randomly carry an aerosol bomb, right?

Hearing the command, a Sergeant crouched down, his breathing rapid, as he unlocked the RPO-A's safety and aimed at the second floor, firing off a round!

Boom!

The ground shook violently, and the whole second floor erupted into flames, roasting everything with its intense heat.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

A smoking Beretta 7.62mm sniper rifle flew out of the window, its barrel blackened. As for the person... they probably didn't survive.

The Sergeant carrying the launcher tossed the RPO-A aside and, with a gun back in his hands, moved toward the building.

As he ran up the stairs, he paid no attention to the ground beneath him and tripped over a wire, a look of horror in his eyes.

A well-hidden anti-personnel mine sprung up, shattering his lower body on the spot.

"Aaaaahhh!!!!!"

Screeching in agony, the not-quite-dead officer crawled on the ground, blood everywhere, dirt caked in the wound.

"Cover! Cover! Cover!" The team leader yelled. Officers around him kept watch with their guns at the ready as he ran over, slung his weapon behind his back, and began dragging the wounded man away by the armpits.

All the while, a hatch in a nearby sewer slowly opened, a pair of eyes watching the scene unfold.

Just as the Senior Police Sergeant was about to drag the wounded officer away, a figure suddenly lifted the manhole cover, RPG in hand, and fired straight at them.

The rocket hit at their feet, sending the man flying like a kite!

My head knocked against that rock, why... I didn't feel the pain, just the corner of my mouth kept spitting out blood.

"Commander!!"

A police officer rushed up, shouting anxiously, and the sergeant saw the phrase embroidered on the other's chest: Honor is my life!

My eyelids were drooping, so tired.

Really... so tired!

Finally, I can rest...

Mexico... Oh God, please don't make me come here in my next life.

"Commander!"

"CNMD!"

"Aerosol Bomb!"

Two squad officers, burning with rage, threw one flashbang grenade each into the sewer, followed by a burst of noise, and then ear-piercing screams from below.

The officer carrying the RPO-A rocket launcher aimed at the tunnel and fired!

Whoosh~

It drilled straight in, and with a loud bang, the ground cracked open, as if a massive gas was furiously pushing upward.

Why is the Aerosol Bomb known as a "tactical nuclear weapon".

Should it be considered the strongest single soldier weapon, huh?

That type of mortar nuclear bomb doesn't count, TMD, with a lethal range of 5 kilometers and a range of 3 kilometers, typical of suicide bombing, that doesn't count.

The most troublesome part of the steel factory is the dense network of tunnels underneath!

You always have to be on guard against "Rats" that might burrow up from below.

The ground troops had advanced only 300 meters after three hours following the Katyusha multiple rocket launcher...

"Fuck!"

Kennedy just threw the pen directly onto the map.

"300 meters, how many casualties do we have? 47 KIA? 79 wounded? With this few people we've got, we'd be TMD dead after pushing forward two kilometers."

He wasn't really saying the officers were slacking off; they had already done a great job!

RPO-A clearing the way, blowing many drug traffickers to bits inside the buildings, but... those damn mongrels keep crawling out from God knows where.

"Boss, these traffickers are clearly not ordinary drug traffickers, they have high combat desire and very skilled combat techniques. They lay land mines, they conduct guerrilla tactics, using the terrain to fight us, and even the weapons they have are very sophisticated, different from what we have encountered before."

The executive officer said with a furrowed brow, casting a side glance at Kennedy, "Can we ask the Director for help?"

"How the hell do you handle such a place?" Kennedy was pissed.

Urban warfare has always been a headache for war commanders. Didn't the U.S. Military's infamous Saigon street battles during the Vietnam War nearly always result in hundreds of bodies being carried down each day?

Not to mention the later street battles in Grozny.

MD, the Russian Bear almost lost nuclear weapons, having watched the video footage of that battle, let me put it this way, I'd rather die on Sulphur Island than go through a street battle.

You simply have nowhere to hide.

"How about we try dropping some napalm bombs, or... massive bunker busters!" the executive officer suggested softly, "The Director has plenty of those treasures."

"Once we do that, the neighboring Yanks are going to come marching in!"

It seems like... Mexico has never had a history of bombers, right? No, back in 1920, there was the Farman F-50 Bomber, which is so damn old, after World War II ended, as a dog among the Three North American Giants, a dragon, and a tiger, it has always been submissive.

Of course, the dragon is the United States, and the tiger is Canada.

The most it can do is bark a little.

If you had bombers, wouldn't they attack you?

Your ground forces could be as fierce as they come, but you'd still have to push from the border. But your planes, what's the straight-line distance from Tijuana to Washington?

Not to say whether you could break through or not, but if you really did one day, wouldn't that mean... civil chaos in North America?

Even if you used bombers to bomb drug traffickers, the Yanks would be annoyed.

Actually, the Russian Bear once tried to bomb the United States with bombers and then land in Mexico, trying to woo them over, but you know, if your neighbor is a big guy with bulging muscles, and someone a few thousand kilometers away says they'll protect you, who would you side with?

Lacking the confidence to wage war against the United States, they had to reject the Russian Bear's extended olive branch, which also meant Victor was a bit late. Twenty years earlier, he would have been the culprit behind "World War III".

Drug enforcement also depends on others' expressions.

This... is truly sad.

"Then we can only continue to seek ground fire support, preferably with some high-explosive bombs to blow through the steel factory below, or else, we deploy dichlorethyl sulfide, a hundred bombs or so, and just kill them off!" the executive officer said through gritted teeth.

Any officer from the Anti-Drug Force here, if taken out and put into The Hague Prison, would definitely not be wrongfully imprisoned; they're cut from the same cloth as gamers playing Paradox Interactive's games.

"The Director didn't limit us by date, so let's push slowly, building by building, don't spread out, cover 6 square kilometers, I'll flatten it into an open field, and stuff dichlorethyl sulfide into the tunnels! Either die down there or come up!" Kennedy was still somewhat "restrained".

Visibly using dichlorethyl sulfide, that... would really cause a huge problem!

"Boss, I think we could ask the Director, maybe he would agree to deploy dichlorethyl sulfide."

The executive officer looked at Kennedy, full of hope.

"The Director's morals are very blurry!"

...