Chapter 292: Chapter 206: If Kou Can Go, So Can I! (Third Update)_2
Under Lares’s summoning, a doctor walked into the interrogation room, seemingly unfazed by the scene of torture. After a brief check, he wrote on the report, ‘Died of sudden cardiac death due to heart disease,’ and stamped it.
“Let’s have a drink soti.”
Lares, smiling, patted the doctor on the shoulder, walked out of the interrogation room, and gulped down so water.
Shortly after, colleagues from other interrogation rooms appeared one by one, their outcos similar.
The real smugglers had escaped long ago, those guys knew the terrain well and slipped away as fast as rabbits. They had returned empty-handed once again.
“Lares, any results on your end?”
...
A colleague looked up and greeted him.
“No, tough nuts to crack, those Tijuana bastards have turned into turtles, only daring to hide behind xico and spread their goods. If I knew their whereabouts, I’d stuff their heads right up their asses.”
Lares cursed angrily, his frustration evident.
Hearing Lares’s complaint, the surrounding officers burst into laughter.
“Ha ha, good idea, Lares, I’d love to see those bastards suffer.”
“Tijuana Group just knows how to hide and seek all day, and those CIA folks are so useless, haven’t found their boss Carter even after all this ti.”
“It’s a pity we don’t see mbers of Tijuana around anymore, otherwise I would let them experience my marksmanship.”
The group continued to joke and laugh, but suddenly, a cacophony erupted from outside, sounding like eight hundred ducks quacking.
“Those illegal immigrants are causing a ruckus again, trying to breach the barbed wire and run over here.”
Lares set down his water bottle, adjusted his holster, and grabbed a baton, walking out aggressively.
But as soon as he exited the interrogation building, he was shocked by the scene in front of him.
A helicopter was flying above, its tal body shimring in the sunlight; the Gatling gun beneath its belly was rotating, spewing out a lengthy, dazzling fla, the source of the noisy ruckus he heard.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Countless bullets rained down, creating a tallic storm at this border checkpoint.
Many Beautiful Country policen who couldn’t react in ti were torn apart by the bullets, limbs flew, and the ground was stained red with blood.
A bullet grazed over Lares’s scalp, causing goosebumps all over his body, and he imdiately ca back to his senses, shouting in panic, “Ambush, ambush!”
Although he didn’t need to shout, the entire border checkpoint was already alard.
These Beautiful Country policen were suppressed by the firepower and had difficulty shooting back; they could only look for rocket launchers and individual air defense missiles while calling for backup.
Due to the special nature of the border checkpoint, these border guards were not lacking in firepower.
Especially after the ergence of the Tijuana Organization, they had intensified their armant.
Vroom Vroom!
The roaring of vehicles approached as a dozen armored trucks charged to the border checkpoint.
n in red bandanas, wearing bulletproof vests, camouflage military uniforms, and helts, ard with AK47s, jumped down from the trucks and without hesitation, pulled the triggers upon seeing the Beautiful Country policen.
At the connection between the truck’s cab and the rear, a heavy machine gun added there vibrated crazily with its long bullet chain, its fierce firepower resonating a symphony of tal and gunpowder, accompanied by spurting blood, sending chills down one’s spine.
“It’s the Tijuana Group, they are here.”
Lares, witnessing the scene, instantly recognized the assailants’ identity.
These individuals exhibited military training traces and wore uniford outfits; their firepower was so fierce, they could only be mbers of the Tijuana Organization, deed by the Beautiful Country as an extre terrorist group.
“Fire back, fire back now.”
“Where are the reinforcents? We need support, ground forces, air support, anything, hurry up and help us!”
“No good, the enemy’s firepower is too fierce, they are so strong.”
The policen at the Beautiful Country border checkpoint still wanted to return fire and fight.
Those allocated to such a dangerous place like the border were surely skilled, not just loafers.
Normally, despite being caught off guard, relying on their training and marksmanship, dealing with scattered Tijuana fighters should have been easy.
But they quickly realized they were not fighting a disorganized, undisciplined band of extremists.
Most people had military training, but among them, so mbers were even stronger than the elite special forces in the army, with incredibly precise marksmanship, agile and ferocious movents, and senses as sharp as a swift.
Many brave police officers who dared to retaliate had just peeked their heads out when they were accurately shot in the head, their brains spilling hot and white all over the ground.
“They are Super Soldiers, they have taken Strengthening Pills, Jieke Company gave them Strengthening Pills.”
The many Beautiful Country police officers below were still unclear as to how these Tijuana mbers were so proficient with guns, but the head of the checkpoint turned deathly pale.
He had so connections in Beautiful Country and was aware of Beautiful Country’s defeat in Chan Country.
This included information about Strengthening Pills and Super Soldiers.
Right now, those five or six adept enemies had definitely taken Strengthening Pills; otherwise, they couldn’t possibly possess such inhuman speed and neurological reaction.
Although to the head officer, these Super Soldiers were not wearing Heavy Armor, nor were they carrying vehicle-mounted Gatlings or large caliber machine guns—the most terrifying type of First-class Super Soldiers.
However, their border checkpoint was not a regular military fortified with heavy armants.
These Third-class and Second-class Super Soldiers relying just on marksmanship and physical capabilities were more than enough to crush them.
Soon, each Beautiful Country police officer was shot until they dared not show their heads, hiding inside the buildings shivering, just like quails.
Fortunately, the border checkpoint was solidly constructed with reinforced concrete and heavy steel doors, built to the specifications of a warti fortress; as long as they did not wish to go out, it was quite safe.
“Bang bang bang!”
Faced with this situation, mbers of the Tijuana Group chose not to storm in but began clearing out those Beautiful Country police officers who hadn’t entered the buildings.
“Hurry, open the door, let in,”
Lares roared, his eyes bloodshot and red, continuously banging on the door.
He had stord out of the interrogation building just monts ago and now wanted back in, but his colleagues and comrades had already shut the door.
“It’s Lares’ voice, open the door.”
“Don’t, do you want to let those terrifying guys in?”
“Don’t open the door, anyone who dares open it, I’ll blow their head off.”
The faint sounds of argunt from inside suddenly turned Lares red with rage, he cursed loudly, “Fuck shit, you bunch of shitty cowards and traitors, open the damn door now or I’ll blow your guts out.”
“Lares, don’t bla us, we don’t want you to get us killed.”
“Yeah, Lares, it’s ti to show your bravery, go fight, didn’t you say that Tijuana is all turtles hiding in their shells, wanting to shove their heads up their asses?”
“Sacrifice one for the good of all, Lares, don’t you have any courage to sacrifice yourself?”
Inside the room, after a mont of silence, the voices of his colleagues and comrades mocking him followed.
Lares was uncontrollably furious, howling, “I will kill you bastards, I an it, I’ll kill all of you.”
But as Lares was still howling, footsteps and the sound of guns being loaded ca from behind him.
Lares turned around in terror, a cold gun barrel pressed against his forehead, and a pair of chilling eyes.
“Don’t kill…”
Before he could finish pleading, the bullet had penetrated his skull, his brain matter and blood splattering onto the door behind him.
The Super Soldier, holding Lares’ limp body, dipped his finger in the blood and wrote a line on the door.
Similar scenes occurred in many places around the checkpoint.
These Beautiful Country police officers kept hiding, daring not to show themselves until this group of Tijuana mbers had long departed and support arrived, then the people inside cautiously opened the doors and ca out.
“What cos around goes around!”
“If the enemy advances, so will I!”
“The ga has only just begun!”
The lines written with blood all over the checkpoint, so in English, so in Chinese, and seeing these, each of the police officers’ faces turned extrely grim.
This act of mass slaughter and flagrant provocation, considering themselves superior as the world’s dominating power, made them nearly explode with rage.
Never had they seen such an audacious and arrogant organization, not even Al-Qaeda dared to do so.
To kill and then trample on the dignity of Beautiful Country!
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