Working as a police officer in Mexico
Chapter 943 - 493: Expand and Strengthen, Create Glory Again!

Outside of Mexico City, there is a military camp in the canyon.

Very mysterious…

Most people don't know about it.

But from the outside, you can often hear gunshots from here; once you get close, you're discovered and dispersed by a sentry. As a result, rumors have spread that this place houses a mysterious unit capable of anything.

They say they even eat human hearts and often drag drug traffickers in to practice shooting.

Rumors grow with each telling, leading to various versions of the "story" emerging.

In reality, this is the camp of the 23rd Squadron of the Air Force Special Forces.

The Army 141 Special Forces' infiltration ability and behind-the-lines decapitation operations made it famous, gaining renown in the world of military, which made Air Force General Zolf Sherman very envious.

So, in August 1991, the Air Force Special Forces were formed.

The 23rd Squadron!

Nickname: "North American Divine Sword!"

The instructors were poached from Alpha…

When the Soviet Union dissolved, Mexico took the opportunity to recruit deeply, bringing over many from Alpha and Signal Flag.

While absorbing them internally, the Air Force attracted many capable individuals with its substantial funds.

How does that saying go?

Army is mundane, Navy is sophisticated, Air Force is outstanding and flies!

The Navy changes ships, the Air Force changes planes, the Army… changes clothes.

Having money solves problems…

From August to now in May, almost a year, it's time to take them out for practice.

The Military Department of the Air Force sent a call to the camp, directly issuing Victor's order.

The entire camp immediately raised the alarm…

Dun dun dun dun~

Urgent and chaotic footsteps echoed in the stairwell as soldiers swiftly donned their combat uniforms and strapped on weapons, sliding gracefully and swiftly down a vertical pole in the middle of the corridor.

Commander of the 23rd Squadron, Colonel James Water, wore a black mask with only his eyes showing, and a helmet equipped with communications. He had a large frame, nearly 1.9 meters tall, making him appear very intimidating.

He looked at the assembled troops below.

The entire squadron, 212 officers, the lowest rank being lieutenant, showing how much effort the Air Force put into forming this unit, offering benefits and treatment unlike any other.

"Comrades!"

With a snap, everyone's legs came together with a crisp sound.

"The time has come when our country and people need us!"

"Headquarters orders us to raid Cancun and establish a Safe Zone in the Ambassador District. Despite the disparity in numbers, we must fulfill our oath."

"Tobie Ojczyzno! (For the homeland!)" shouted the people below.

James Water's expression was cold, "Move out!"

The 212 troops will board three Hercules aircraft for a parachute landing over Cancun. Since Mexico is over 1,000 km away, helicopters are impractical.

And to quickly open the situation, in coordination with the 300 men of the 141, nearly 600 elite soldiers will execute the mission. While success is not guaranteed, the chances are relatively high.

War never has a 100% success rate.

Only one-percent are heroes!

Boom boom boom~

The engines of the Hercules roared, deafening.

The ground crews saluted the planes.

Watching the heroes embark on the battlefield.

…

Cancun…

The city was engulfed in smoke and flames…

Even a 200-year-old church was reduced to ashes.

In the "Molod Palanka District," known as the "Journalist District," many international news media have established offices here.

BBC, The Guardian, CNN, Columbia Broadcasting System, and others.

During Arturo Desena's administration, because this area controlled "public opinion," he deployed soldiers here to guard against… disruptions.

But now, with Cancun in chaos, the frontline results are poor, the leaders fled, and the restless soldiers have turned into "beasts."

They had long been eyeing some female journalists with big hips, and upon entering, began to commit assaults!

The cries of despair and anguish filled the air here.

But simultaneously…

Some risked their lives to livestream what was happening.

Two Brazilian male journalists ran quickly to find a safe place and called their boss.

But who knew their Japanese superior would order them to livestream…

"To hell with you, I want to live! You're ordering us to die!" the cameraman refused.

The other was also very resistant.

"One hundred thousand dollars, Brin, Maximilian, if you two just broadcast it, I'll give you a hundred thousand dollars reward!" The Japanese superior's eyes were red; what he wanted now was ratings.

Hearing this, the two Brazilian journalists breathed a bit erratically, looked at each other, somewhat conflicted.

"Two hundred thousand bonus!"

"No problem," the Japanese superior agreed.

After all, in the end, whether or not to give them still needs approval?

It's easy to find an excuse to pay just a few thousand dollars.

Japanese people never have credibility.

"Rest assured, I'll be in contact with the Brazilian government to get you out of there, but right now you need to broadcast the live scene, I won't lie to you, hurry up."

Under the boss's urging and driven by money, they pointed the camera at the window, delivering a direct broadcast of the scenes below.

Money always has the power to surpass fear.

Far away at the TV station in Sao Paulo, Brazil, the news was originally being broadcast, but the public suddenly found the image changed…

Everywhere was raging fire, accompanied by gunfire, you could even see fully armed gunmen shooting at buildings.

And a voiceover appropriately chimed in, "Drug traffickers and gangs in Cancun, Mexico, are massacring local residents!"

"Ah, help, help!"

Two armed militants dragged a white woman out of a building, pulling her hair. She screamed while blood pooled beneath her.

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