Chimalhuacán, warehouse.
Ryan carried a box with both hands and placed it on the table, with dozens of magazines neatly arranged beside it. Under more than ten pairs of curious eyes, he pried it open, revealing hand grenades lying quietly inside.
"Everyone come up and get two grenades and four magazines. Sergio, Maxima, Alfredo and Juan, you get Uzi submachine guns."
Ryan always did things directly, naming four people who had performed well recently and handing them Uzi submachine guns.
Shooting was actually like having sex - you just needed to know how to release the safety and pull the trigger. No education required. Did shooting need college graduates?
Bullets fired by 14-year-old kids were just as deadly as those from 40-year-old middle-aged men.
"Tonight we attack the Mexican Beheading Gang's headquarters - Sacablanca Japanese restaurant and a game arcade." Ryan had figured out all the details.
This kind of intelligence wasn't expensive - just find an informant to ask.
Ryan looked at the gunmen below, all very spirited and even excited with flushed faces - typical adrenaline rush.
They weren't inexperienced with firefights, but taking guns to seize territory was rare.
Perhaps the emergence of Mexico's new generation would make competition between ordinary gangs more cruel and bloody.
Let those stingy bosses see - if your subordinates don't have enough guns, you'll just get beaten.
Holder stood beside with arms crossed, watching, "Should take them out to see some action."
"Yeah, trained for several days and seen blood before." Ryan nodded.
Holder placed his briefcase on the table and dumped everything out. Peso bills fluttered in the air, deeply stimulating the gunmen's nerves.
"This is for you - 6,000 pesos total. Take down Islaparolada district and this money is yours to split, plus field operation fees."
Holder was truly generous.
He held to one principle: "Money drives action."
Most importantly, Holder's ambition was growing.
He needed more territory.
Only this way would his Mexico's new generation organization have more money prospects!
"Don't worry, this money won't disappear. As soon as we break in, it'll be distributed immediately."
Each one was so stimulated they were excited. Even if regular army came now, they'd get slapped twice. If Jesus came, you think you could leave without toasting him?
Ryan stepped forward, suppressing their restlessness and giving a rousing speech.
"Young people are so easy to incite." Ryan looked at these young gunmen and sighed inwardly. Every profession had age limits. Over 40, honestly, in criminal organizations you either climbed up or washed your hands of it.
No matter what business people did, they liked finding 18-year-olds because they didn't worry about much - typical of one person eating well while the whole family wasn't hungry. Even younger, if you said a few words to them, they'd really dare stab you.
"Tonight we plant our flag!" Holder responded.
"Got something good for you." Holder returned to his office and brought out a violin case.
"What's this?"
"I bought it from Best."
Ryan had been curious what was inside. Opening a crack to see what was inside, his eyes immediately widened.
"Shit!" He directly cursed.
"God bless us to kill those bastards tonight. Amen." Holder prayed with open eyes.
Jesus indicated he was a bit confused at the moment.
...
Mexico was more lively at night than during the day.
Really, if you don't believe it, when you travel to Mexico, if you see three to five people standing there chatting, go up and pat their shoulders and say in Spanish: "Vete a la mierda!"
Remember, definitely use Spanish - this is Mexico's official language. If you speak English, some of them haven't been educated and might not understand.
After saying it, you'll know what it feels like to have your body turned into a sieve.
Evening, sun setting, prostitutes going to work.
Everywhere were scantily clad women and gang members with terrifying tattoos patrolling around, checking if anyone was disturbing the peace.
Mexico's new generation gunmen rode in two sedans - spoils of war seized when killing Anna - heading toward Islaparolada district.
The straight-line distance was about 7 kilometers. Driving around took about 30 minutes to reach the designated location.
The luxuriously decorated Japanese restaurant used all transparent glass, allowing you to see people sitting inside. There were few customers - which poor person would eat Japanese food?
Poor people went to eat army stew - after all, it was a hodgepodge.
Inside sat over ten characters who obviously weren't to be messed with. Several were openly snorting powder with money and guns on the table.
The vehicle drove past. Ryan in the passenger seat leaned out, pulled the pin, and threw it through the open door.
Boom!
All surrounding glass shattered. Pedestrians on the roadside screamed and covered their ears. Street vendors experienced enough to immediately drop and crawl away in low posture.
Hooded Holder pushed open the car door and got out with his men, stood at the entrance, aimed his Uzi inside and swept. Click - empty chamber. Gunmen beside him with pistols rushed inside.
Holder reloaded and walked into the Japanese restaurant. Those dozen-plus people were now all lying on the ground. He took out several photos from his pocket for comparison and said to his subordinate, "None of them. Kill them all."
The gunmen nodded, targeting those still breathing with headshots.
Could only delete accounts and restart.
"Go to the arcade!"
This side was easy - one grenade solved it. But the arcade wasn't easy. The space inside was large. Throwing it in didn't kill everyone - only unlucky gamers got blown away.
What did this prove?
Playing games was prone to accidents.
The Mexican Beheading Gang relied on machines to counterattack. Because the entrance was very narrow, they didn't dare rush in.
If their reinforcements arrived, they'd really be fucked.
"Juan, open the thing!" Ryan shouted to a gunman beside him. The other made an OK gesture, squatted and opened the violin case, revealing an RPG-7 rocket launcher inside.
Nearby gunmen were all stunned.
We're gang fighting, not regular army counter-terrorism, right?
Even if they hadn't used this thing, they'd seen it on TV where American soldiers would shout "R~P~G!" before firing.
As if without shouting, this fucking shell wouldn't explode.
Ryan had never used this thing. Seeing an instruction manual underneath, he picked it up, "Damn, isn't there Spanish?"
"Boss, looks like you just stuff the shell into the front opening. There are pictures here." Juan pointed at the little human figures drawn in the manual.
"Quick, load it for me."
Juan took out the shell according to the pictures and stuffed it into the opening. Ryan pressed down with his thumb, cocked the hammer, and pushed out the cross safety pin to the left.
These Soviets were quite particular about their work.
The drawings were clear.
This was for illiterate people to see.
"Don't stand behind me! Move away!" Ryan pushed Juan aside, took a deep breath, rushed out during a gap, didn't even aim, just stood there and pulled the trigger toward the inside of the arcade.
This was truly divine.
Standing and firing an RPG indoors - simply maxed out buffs.
This was rare even among Russians.
Whoosh~~
The shell dragged its tail fin toward the target.
Someone shouted.
"R~P~G!!!"