Working as a police officer in Mexico
Chapter 949 - 495: Dirty, the art of war is too dirty! _3

Damn!

I'm playing heart rescue, and you're playing crossing the river in white?!

Bullshit!

Dirty, playing military strategy is just too dirty!

The supervisor shivered, turned around to run, but it was too late. With a bang, the tower door was kicked open, two tall soldiers in pitch-black uniforms and masks walked in...

"Don't kill me! Don't kill me!!" An employee cried out hysterically.

This bewildered the soldiers who came in.

"From now on, the Mexican Government Forces are taking over here." One of them said solemnly.

What?

Regular Army?

The Mexican Government Forces have come in?

The tower went silent.

"Officer, I'm a good citizen!" The supervisor shouted loudly.

This unit is actually the Army 141 Special Forces Brigade, which received orders from the Army, thinking that airborne was too crude and dangerous, not knowing when they would crash, with night visibility being too low.

So...

John McTavish came up with a solution, disguised as a passenger plane, with all seats removed, which is why they set off later than the Navy Special Forces.

It's all about brains.

Even in combat, strategy matters.

You see, now there's no loss of soldiers, right?

John McTavish left a small team to control the tower, while the remaining 300 armed forces rushed 6 kilometers towards Cancun carrying weapons and ammunition.

At 1:45 am.

141 Special Forces infiltrated into the city, but their destination wasn't the Ambassador District, but the Southern City Government Building.

The walls were thick, capable of resisting bombardment, plus the building height provided about 9 floors for layered defense, buying time. But, surely no one would attack them recklessly, right?

And Cancun's radio station is on the 6th floor of the building. By then, a citywide announcement would declare the army's presence, do you think anyone in leaderless Cancun would fight to the death?

Perhaps the people below are fighting over control, but the top leaders will definitely flee.

The Southern Drug Dealer Alliance claims to be the government but resembles a group of divided factions. If someone can hold the top authority, then things are fine, face and substance negotiate well, allowing for some unity, but Arturo Desena has fled.

The military leaders below lack prestige to suppress.

Additionally, under the chaos in Cancun, old enemies have long been slaughtering each other...

When the Heavenly Soldiers arrived, they fled in panic!

You still expect the drug traffickers to hold out?

Over 300 personnel dispersedly surrounded from all sides, not as a single wave, but tactically. Some were on perimeter alert to avoid being ambushed by other roaming drug traffickers.

John McTavish headed the internally named "Leister Team 5", a hero in Mexican mythology.

"Breach!"

A soldier forcefully kicked open the door and began a formation search inside.

Just about to get to the second floor, foot barely stepped up, a burst of bullets came down, scaring the opposition to leap back...

"Ah!!!!"

The drug dealer above was firing his AK, shouting loudly.

But shooting like this quickly depleted his ammo.

He hurriedly replaced his bullets, taking advantage of the gap, two soldiers approached the railing, took aim above, and fired precisely, hitting the drug trafficker in the chest, causing him to fall from the third floor.

"GOGOGO!"

John McTavish rushed forward, leaned at the corridor corner, waited a while before exiting, passed a room when he heard noises inside, he stopped, gestured to his comrades to cooperate.

The comrade nodded, reaching for the doorknob, preparing to open the door.

Da-da-da-da... da-da-da...

A barrage of bullets fired from inside, riddling the door with holes.

John McTavish produced a hand grenade, flicked the thumb, and threw it in reverse, boom...

A haze blew out.

He raised his gun and charged in. Upon seeing the scene inside, his eye twitched slightly.

Three people lay on the ground...

One was tied to a chair, a naked woman, already dead, her chest cut open, clearly killed before the grenade.

And two men, shirtless, one already dead, another trembling, struggling fiercely.

The situation clearly indicated the reality.

John McTavish walked up, stomped on the face of the struggling one, pulled out a pistol, and shot directly at his privates!

All in vain.

Very typical...

The opponent didn't even have time to scream, alive, truly pain-stricken, died with eyes wide open, a breath not drawn.

"Continue, clear the building!"

...