Working as a police officer in Mexico

"F***! F***! Nichols, come with me."

John Pocali cursed, patted the shoulder of the teammate beside him, and as he ran, he pulled a magazine from his pocket, tapped it lightly, and the empty magazine fell out, the new one snapped right in.

It was as smooth as flowing water.

Clearly, he was an old bandit.

Bursting out of the room, he heard footsteps on the stairs and raised his gun for a burst of fire while a drug trafficker beside him pulled the pin of an MK II defensive hand grenade and threw it downstairs.

Boom...

Dust flew up, somewhat pungent.

"Get out of the way! John!" A voice came from behind Pocali, he stepped aside, and saw a teammate rush out, cursing incessantly, "Damn cops! Bastards! Sons of bitches!"

In his hand, he held an M34 white phosphorus hand grenade!

He pulled the pin and threw it downstairs, but he clearly extended his arm too far, and the cop leaning against the wall below didn't care what it was.

You stick your dick out after taking off your pants, and they'd still shoot you.

Pop pop pop...

A burst of fire, bullets pierced the drug trafficker's arm, he cried out in pain, clutched his arm, and quickly retreated. The M34 white phosphorus hand grenade in his hand fell on the stairs and immediately ignited.

It engulfed the cop who was hunkered down at the corner against the wall.

"Ahhhhh!!!"

The officer screamed as he rushed out of the fire, his gun long dropped, he ran towards his nearest teammate with his mouth engulfed in flames.

Remember: if you encounter someone on fire, don't get too close, as they might, in their fear, cling to you. This is why many law enforcement teams are equipped with steel forks, to pin under your armpits, then press down.

But he only ran a few steps before collapsing to the ground, rolling violently!

To be honest...

His teammates had no way to help!

In battle, it's nothing like TV shows. Honestly, the only person you can take care of is yourself.

Your prayers... are only that so-called shells won't land on you!

Rescue?

That would just get more people killed.

Gradually, the officer lying on the ground stopped wailing and convulsing.

"Blow them up!"

A sergeant swapped for an HK69A1—40mm grenade launcher, crouched on the steps, the heat from the boots still palpably hot.

Does a grenade launcher need to be aimed?

A personal support weapon, a killer at close range, one misstep and even you might be gone.

Bang... Boom!!

A grenade flew out, and even John Pocali, who was some distance away, felt the shock wave hit his stomach. Shrapnel flew past his eyes, the pain making him cry out, and that drug trafficker who had thrown the incendiary bomb was particularly unlucky.

He was standing right inside the lethal radius.

Just once, he didn't even cry out. It has to be said, he was a tough guy, albeit a bit fragmented now.

Another Nichols, nationality unknown, got blasted into the room; his left calf was completely gone!

Seizing this gap, a police officer rushed forward and unloaded a whole magazine into Nichols on the ground, blowing his head apart.

John Pocali, clutching his chest, saw this scene and his eyes narrowed. When he got blown away earlier, his MP5 had fallen. The policeman turned his way, instinctively pulling the trigger of his gun, only to hear the click of an empty chamber.

But that gave John Pocali quite a scare; he involuntarily tightened his buttocks, and the hair on his scalp stood straight up in fright. Hearing that click, his face froze in shock, but clearly, God was on his side!

"Ah!!" he roared, charging forward. The officer was also a tough guy who shouted angrily, and two men, both over 185cm tall, began the most primal struggle!

John Pocali was a savage. He bit down on the neck of the officer like a wild beast.

The officer was also losing it. In this desperate situation, adrenaline surged easily. During the fight, he felt for the hand grenade at his waist, and with a courage from who knows where, he pulled the pin and exclaimed, "Long live Victor!"

John Pocali watched in horror, struggling to beat the officer's face, but the other man held on to him firmly.

Boom!

The grenade exploded between the two of them.

When his teammates caught up later, the officer's face was half blown off, with bones visible, while John Pocali was in even worse shape, his intestines spilling out.

"Pauly!" a teammate shouted, rushing forward to finish off Pocali with a shotgun blast to the head, preventing any chance of him coming back to life, before finally checking on his teammate who was no longer breathing.

"Clear!!"

The leading officer took a deep breath as he witnessed this scene, but his calm and excellent military training had him gesturing for his men to continue searching the other rooms. Just as he reached the window, a whistling sound reached his ears. Looking up, his pupils contracted. "Get down!!"

On a roof 400 meters away, seven or eight WWII-era Type 97 150mm medium mortars were set up!

How these damn drug traffickers hoisted them up there was anyone's guess.

"Fire!!"

The mortars blasted towards the small building controlled by the officers.

Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom!

The walls were shaking so damn hard.

"Mark the position! Mark the position!" The commander got up from the ground, spitting out the sand from his mouth, his head still buzzing and trembling.

Anyone who has ever been near an explosion knows this feeling... the head feels like mush, causing headache, mild nausea, slight concussion, and sometimes you can't even hear what the person in front of you is saying.

The officers who got up quickly crouched in the triangular area near the window and pulled out a night vision monocular to scan the area.

Victor hadn't yet afforded every front-line soldier their own night vision equipment.

The points for that would be explosive.

And such high-tech weapons are prone to damage; even the Yanks could only achieve such capability after the Millennium.

"Found them!"

Meanwhile, the armored vehicle outside raised its gun barrel, aimed at the target, and let loose a volley that blew the drug traffickers sky high!

Katyusha?

That had already been taken away; without any ammunition, why keep it?

Zolf Sherman came down from the front lines and hurriedly dove into a command vehicle, where Kennedy sat looking exhausted, with bloodshot eyes.

"Time is up!"

Kennedy glanced at his watch, "Time to rotate, keep going up!"

The plan was an aggressive offensive. Moreover, the police had superior numbers and didn't need to spread out. They charged from a single direction. With too many people, they couldn't deploy properly, turning into mere live targets, so they went up by battalions.

Those coming down would rest.

But the drug traffickers wouldn't get any rest!

Let's see who the TMD has the tougher bones.

This kind of war of attrition was quite common in many places, particularly in modern warfare.

The aide-de-camp beside him acknowledged the order and hurried off to make arrangements.

"You should rest too," Zolf Sherman said, patting Kennedy's shoulder.

"56 hours, 1100 meters advanced! How can I sleep?"

For over 60 hours, the Anti-Drug Force had been held up at the steel factory, which even the capital of Sonora State, Hermosillo, could see, but TMD... couldn't get past this steel factory!

Zolf Sherman understood the pressure he felt.

The traffickers had all kinds of artillery, as if the steel factory was an arsenal.

"I'm fine." Kennedy waved his hand and frowned at the map. It was the internal structure of the steel factory they'd managed to secure, "Their tunnels are the most troublesome. If we could seal their ventilation shafts, then we could pump air in."

"Or flood them with water. We don't need to flood too much; when we electrify it, we can force them out from underground. On the ground, we have nothing to worry about."

Zolf Sherman instinctively wondered how much water that would require.

Are they going to divert the Corona River?

Ventilation shafts, can they even be found? Who knows where the drug traffickers have opened their tunnels?

While the two were discussing, the door of the command vehicle was pulled open, and the aide-de-camp stood outside, "Boss, the Director is here!"

…

An H-46 helicopter painted with the Mexican flag descended in a spiral. This helicopter looked somewhat like a public bus and was nicknamed "Sea Knight"!

This was Victor's means of transport, also known as the King's Chariot.

He declined Kennedy's offer to help him down, and Victor sprang out energetically, laughing, "I'm not quite at the age where I need help walking."

After finishing his statement, he sized up the two men, heaved a sigh, and patted their shoulders.

"Long time no see, you two have lost weight, must have been tough."

Kennedy and Zolf Sherman looked down somewhat ashamed.

"Director, give me a bit more time, and I will definitely take down the Emmisi Steel Factory!" Kennedy said, raising his head, well aware of why his boss had come, probably thinking he was "incompetent".

"Take it down with what? Don't fight a brute's war; is it just by risking our lives? Should I sacrifice my officers to fill the drug traffickers' gun barrels? There's no need, nor is it necessary!"

Casare glanced at Hernandez from the Mexican News Agency, the old journalist, and nudged him with his elbow, signaling to start his machine.

This was great material.

"Mr. Victor holds a frontline pep talk, all officers vow to take down the Emmisi Steel Factory!"

Hernandez got the message immediately, started the video camera, and began working.

"No rush, the troops coming to support tomorrow are bringing Thermobaric Bombs with them. They like hiding, right? We'll blast them out with thermobaric bombs."

Thermobaric Bombs!

Kennedy and Zolf Sherman exchanged a look, both slightly astonished.

Old journalist Hernandez raised an eyebrow when he heard this term. Being a war correspondent, he knew more about military affairs than many people. The world's first thermobaric weapon was the Russian Bear's PRO-ASHMEL "Shmel Rocket."

The Aerosol Bomb was a predecessor.

Ordinary people might not have even heard of it because the Yanks hadn't even deployed it formally.

He suddenly felt eyes on him and turned to see Casare staring at him.

"Don't worry, I know how to edit technically," Hernandez mouthed the words.

Fat Casare nodded in approval.

War correspondents who survive long certainly have insight.

"Boss, there are quite a few journalists outside this steel factory. If they capture this, and it gets out…" Zolf Sherman hesitated.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Journalists?

Victor pondered for a moment, then looked towards Casare.

When in doubt, shut the door and let Fat Casare handle it!

"Boss, should we smash their camera lenses?"

"Ah, we're the proper police, not bandits, how can we talk like that? It's too crude," said Casare, the corner of his eye twitching, sensing his boss thought that wasn't enough.

Hopefully, the journalists will keep their mouths shut!

He swallowed, "Boss…killing them all, wouldn't that be bad?"

The wind blew, and those nearby all turned to look at Hernandez.

The old man's hands trembled with fear, but he managed to force a smile.

"What are you imagining? Just stage a play, get some men to pretend to be drug traffickers, tie them up and... after a few days, our Anti-Drug police will rescue them. As for the filming equipment, just hand it all to the Mexican News Agency," Victor said, almost laughing at the idea.

Journalists, do you think they're that easy to kill?

At the very least…

You need to wear three layers of hoods.

Even though they don't have guns, the moniker "king without a crown" is quite scary.

You're probably familiar with Rupert Murdoch, but there's another who took a PR to the extreme, nicknamed "Goose Boss" Gusinsky. He personally supported a "person" into power at one time.

But he died quite horribly as well.

If Victor made a move against so many media people, he'd either become a wanted criminal or a death-row inmate. With Mexico's current national strength, there was no way to protect him.

Many things can be done stealthily.

If done overtly, that's just looking for trouble.

...