This was basically "killing" their way to Guadalupe Island Police Station.
You could see potholes everywhere, along with drug dealer corpses that hadn't been collected in time.
Severed limbs and arms were even hanging from sandbag fortifications.
Kennedy Heisenberg had set up a 'security zone' 200 meters from the police station, with a blue sign reading "Military Jurisdiction," full of bullet holes.
Nearby high-rises had long been abandoned.
Mexicans all knew that living next to police stations meant you needed strong luck or you'd go to heaven.
So the vacated buildings were all converted into firing positions.
Mount those heavy machine guns on rooftops, and with streets only six or seven meters wide, however many people came would get mowed down.
The convoy entered the police station as officers got out of troop transports, moving supplies from vehicles into warehouses.
Casare and others surrounded Victor as they walked into the station.
A banner still hung in the main hall: "All Police Should Go to Hell!" with a familiar logo painted beside it.
A skull with a knife stuck through it - the organization that had cursed Victor in the video: Piratas! (Pirates!)
All facilities inside were devastated. Not a single pane of glass remained intact. Walls were stained with blood and gunpowder mixed together. If not for the national emblem hanging outside, you'd think this was a garbage collection center.
"Boss, yesterday when we were cleaning the battlefield, we found a prisoner. Originally wanted to shoot him, but we discovered... he looked very familiar." Kennedy Heisenberg waved for officers to kick the person over.
Victor was somewhat curious too.
His principle was accepting no drug dealer prisoners, but someone Kennedy Heisenberg specifically kept must have his "special qualities."
From the adjacent room, a drug dealer beaten like a dead dog was dragged out by his hair, bruised and battered, directly thrown on the ground.
Victor just looked twice and hey, wasn't this the Piratas! (Pirates!) leader who had cursed him in the video?
He simply had good memory, definitely not being petty.
Victor grabbed his face, fear spreading in the other's eyes.
"Don't you love talking? But I really hate talkative people. Moreover, I want to know if a knife stuck through a skull will actually kill someone."
Victor smiled at Kennedy, "Take him down and try it out, then hang him outside the security zone."
He swore he really wasn't being vindictive.
Hearing he would die so miserably, the drug dealer's legs went weak, showing none of the defiance from the video.
Kennedy waved his hand. Two officers dragged him outside.
Victor looked comfortable, his smile much more carefree, "I remember Guadalupe Island has a TV station?"
"Yes, currently controlled by Reclusos en confinamiento (Confined Prisoners). They're even using TV programs to demand no one provide us assistance, threatening to kill entire families otherwise."
Victor raised an eyebrow, "Take people to recapture that TV station. How can such propaganda tools be in drug dealers' hands? Go right now - those bastards definitely can't imagine we'd act so quickly. Tonight I want to broadcast a televised speech."
Propaganda was very important.
Look at post-millennium drug trafficking groups - they all began using TV stations, news media, and short videos to promote their "ideologies."
Why could El Mencho lead Jalisco New Generation to emerge from a pile of drug organizations? One method was his expertise at utilizing media. When capturing rival gang members, he'd interrogate them first, then kill them in the name of "justice," claiming in media that this was upholding righteousness!
Drug dealers were fucking playing this game too.
With this move, Jalisco New Generation gradually prospered.
Such an important institution - Victor had to seize it upon taking office. He wanted to spread "Victor's Quotations" throughout the entire island.
Kennedy Heisenberg nodded, selected 30 EDM members, took sufficient ammunition, and directly boarded the Mi-8 helicopter, planning an airborne assault.
Victor watched the departing helicopter and the busy officers below, suddenly calling out, "Casare."
"Boss?"
"Finally no one can control me. I was stifled in Mexico City!"
Casare looked at Victor's almost twisted tone, hesitating, "Should I contact a psychiatrist for you?"
"Does he also deal drugs?"
Question marks flashed through Casare's mind.
...
So many eyes were watching the police station.
As soon as the Mi-8 took off, many people started panicking.
"Quick! Follow it and see where it goes!"
"Call for help! Shoot it down!"
Even if their mothers were having wedding nights, these drug dealers wouldn't be so nervous.
Guadalupe Island TV station was in the northwest corner near the beach, about 20 meters high, considered "outstanding" on the small island.
The Mi-8 hovered over the rooftop as Kennedy led team members rappelling down, 30 people splitting into three groups.
Kennedy led people charging down the stairs.
Rat-a-tat-tat...
A burst of bullets swept over. Kennedy forcefully threw himself against the wall, bullets grazing his scalp.
"Grenade!" he shouted.
A team member behind pulled the pin on an F-1 grenade and tossed it backhand down the stairs, hearing two rolling sounds.
Boom!!
Smoke rose with accompanying screams.
Kennedy directly charged down, firing a blast at drug dealers on the ground.
He was really kind, fearing they'd be in too much pain, sending them on their way first.
For CQB in such narrow spaces and close combat, they'd specifically equipped "trench sweepers" - Winchester 1897 pump-action shotguns. This old thing, regardless of pain, would turn you to mush if hit.
As long as your hand speed was fast, you could even use it as a "suppression weapon."
The squad infiltrated the TV station. Turning a corner, Kennedy walked ahead with his shotgun when suddenly a figure rushed out from around the corner.
A short-haired woman in white clothes!
Not bad looking!
She held a pistol. Kennedy's shotgun muzzle was against her face as he instinctively pulled the trigger.
Bang!
No matter how pretty, half her head exploded directly.
Kennedy wiped blood off his hood, aimed at the corpse still twitching nervously on the ground for another shot.
Even silicone came out.
The other two squads broke through windows to assault the TV station interior, gunfire continuous.
Indoor combat was inherently intense - even the most capable people sometimes felt helpless.
Including the "Ma'alot Incident" where the world-famous "Sayeret" special forces met their Waterloo.
"Boss, firefight in right-side room on first floor. Lagarto (Lizard) wounded, Leopardo (Leopard) killed in action. Drug dealers have taken two hostages," came a request through the earpiece from EDM members.
Kennedy pressed his earpiece, "There are no hostages in the TV station - all drug dealers! Repeat, all drug dealers!"
"Recibido! (Received!)"
Hearing the command through earphones, the squad leader understood what to do. He pulled out two grenades from his pocket, bound them together with tactical tape, pulled the pin on one, counted silently, then threw them directly into the room.
A huge explosion...
A leg was blown out through the door.
The squad rushed in, finishing off those not yet dead.
"Boss, drug dealer reinforcements are coming!"
Kennedy heard the voice in his earpiece, quickly went to a window to look outside.
Outside the TV station, over 200 drug dealers swarmed down from twenty-some pickup trucks.
These people just couldn't fucking be killed!
"Requesting support!"
(End of Chapter)
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