Smiley immediately pressed his ear close to the window gap.
Victor spoke in a very low voice, saying a few words.
No one else heard him.
But Smiley's pupils contracted, and he immediately nodded, "Understood!"
The window rolled up, and the convoy resumed its journey.
Smiley watched as the convoy drove into the distance before getting back into his car.
Victor leaned back against the seat, the interior of the car was deathly silent.
He reached over and gently pulled up Belsaria's fallen coat on her shoulder, a barely noticeable softness in his action.
Outside the window, the lights of Mexico City flashed past, as Victor's eyes calmly gazed into the distance.
Meanwhile in Medellin,
On the burning streets, thick smoke was suffocating.
A squad of government infantry, under the cover of an armored vehicle, cautiously advanced along a main road littered with rubble and charred corpses.
Sporadic gunfire rang out, most resistance had turned to ashes under the "scorched earth" order.
The soldiers' eyes were sharp, their muzzles sweeping over every shadow.
Suddenly, a figure stumbled out from behind the half-collapsed doorframe of a roadside shop—a middle-aged man, ragged clothes, face full of soot, with his hands raised high above his head, trembling uncontrollably like a leaf.
"Civilian!" the leading soldier shouted, instinctively lowering his gun slightly.
The rest of the squad also instantly became alert, but seeing the figure only shaking and raising his hands, their movements slowed slightly.
The armored vehicle's engine rumbled deeply.
The man's eyes were vacant, bloodshot, staring fixedly at the advancing soldiers and the cold armored vehicle, standing by the roadside like a statue of fear.
Just as the squad's vanguard was about to pass him, the armored vehicle's tracks crushed the gravel with a harsh sound, the man's eyes suddenly burst with a light close to madness, all his fear replaced by a ferocious frenzy.
"Long live Pablo!!!!!!!"
He let out a scream unlike anything human, his raised hands falling heavily, his whole body shooting like an arrow—not to flee, but to hurl himself straight and madly at the nearest armored vehicle's flank!
"Long live Pablo!!!" he shouted the slogan again, his voice piercing over the engine and distant explosions.
"Enemy attack!" the soldier's warning and the sound of cocking guns rang out almost simultaneously!
But it was too close!
Just before the man was about to collide with the armored vehicle's thick side armor, under his tattered coat, the outline of a tubular object and a tangle of wires strapped to his chest were faintly visible.
"Bomb!!" a sharp-eyed soldier shouted in horror, barely finishing the sentence.
Ratatatatata——!
The nearest soldier reacted extremely quickly, the muzzle spitting fire, bullets tearing through the man's chest and abdomen instantly.
Boom——!!!
A violent explosion detonated beside the armored vehicle!
A fiery blaze shot into the sky, the scorching blast wave mixed with metal fragments and chunks of flesh swept across the area. The two soldiers closest were flung harshly, the side skirts of the armored vehicle twisted and deformed, emitting a piercing metallic groan, thick smoke and dust once again engulfing the street.
The smell of gunpowder mixed with fresh blood was suffocating.
"Fuck!"
Curses rose one after another.
These Mexican soldiers, long entrenched on the frontline, felt a bit shaken internally as well.
Especially with this near-religious suicide attack, who wouldn't be terrified?
Pablo...
Does he really have such great charm?
That man and his frenzied shout, along with the destruction hidden within him, turned into scorched twisted remains on the ground, leaving only the echo of "Long live Pablo" like a ghost lingering in the ears of the surviving soldiers.
In the command headquarters outside the city.
The air was filled with the pungent smell of gunpowder, sweat, and cheap coffee.
The static on the radio, the sound of keyboard clattering, and the suppressed yet urgent reports of the staff created a tense background noise.
On the giant map, dots representing both sides crisscrossed, the district blocks marked as the "core of resistance" flashing with glaring red light.
"Chief of Staff, the supreme command orders, you are permitted to use any means, including the destruction of Medellin!" (Some words are restricted from writing.)
A staff officer raised his hand and shouted at the Chief of Staff, Frederick von Paulus, who was looking at the map.
The command center instantly plunged into dead silence, with only the low hum of operating equipment.
Frederick von Paulus held a cigarette in his hand, the pressure was immense. Originally thought Medellin would be easy to take, but a city of millions wore him out.
Yesterday, he was still shouting about celebrating the Day of the Dead inside.
Damn, he's almost become a Dead Soul himself!
He heard the staff officer's words, his hand trembled, squinting his eyes, and a slight cold sweat began to appear on his forehead. It wasn't from the heat, but from the knowledge of what impact issuing this order would have.
About one or two minutes later, he exhaled a long breath.
"Attention all units! Order ground troops to retreat, conduct scorched-earth actions, full firepower coverage of the Medellin area, indiscriminate! Airstrike formation, empty the bomb bays! Ground heavy armor groups, advance! Crush them! Now! Immediately!"
The orders ignited the fuse.
The silence in the command center was suddenly replaced by roars and commands bursting forth.
Medellin city center - Alpha - Charlie sector.
The previous second, intense street fighting was still ongoing. Drug trafficker militants relied on concrete rubble, narrow alleys, and the network of underground sewers, using automatic weapons and rocket launchers to madly block the advancing Government Forces soldiers. Bullets hitting the walls kicked up debris and dust, explosions occasionally lighting up twisted, desperate, or frenzied faces.
Suddenly, the Mexican Army opposite faded away like a receding tide.
"Did we win?"
"They retreated? The Government Forces retreated!!!"
They shouted excitedly, with some even standing on sandbags, waving their guns vigorously, very pleased.
But the next second…
The sky was torn apart, shrill whistles grew from distant to near, instantly overpowering all gunfire sounds.
Hundreds of rioters and drug trafficker militants cheering in the defense area suddenly looked up, seeing the sky filled with aircraft. Next, the hatches opened, raining down countless napalm bombs, high-explosive bombs, cluster bombs... A deadly rainstorm poured down.
"God!!!"
Boom! Boom! Boom!!!
Deafening explosions merged into one, shaking the very earth and mountains. Scorching fireballs shot into the sky, instantly engulfing the entire block's buildings.
Reinforced concrete was torn, lifted, and melted like paper, the shock wave sweeping away everything and turning the militants hiding inside along with their shelters into dust.
Thick smoke roiled, covering the sky, filling the air with a choking burnt smell and the stench of scorched flesh.
Immediately after, a heavy, heart-shaking tremor came from the ground.
The Government Forces' armored groups, main battle tanks, and heavy infantry fighting vehicles advanced like a steel torrent, crushing over the still-burning ruins and dead bodies.
Large-caliber cannons and coaxial machine guns spat long tongues of fire, tearing any moving, resisting targets to pieces. The volleys of heavy artillery pounded repeatedly on stubborn strongholds not yet fully destroyed by the airstrikes.
The drug traffickers' resistance crumbled instantly under the absolute firepower crushing. The complex terrain and fortifications they relied on for stubborn resistance crumbled like sandcastles in the relentless bombing.
The communication channels were filled with the terrified, desperate screams and curses of the drug kingpins, but were quickly drowned out by even more violent explosions.
A drug trafficker leader, his face smeared with blood, had just crawled out from a half-collapsed underground shelter and didn't have time to catch his breath before being mercilessly crushed by a tank's tracks.
Warehouses hiding large quantities of weapons and ammunition were directly hit by precision-guided bombs, causing secondary explosions, throwing the ruins of several surrounding blocks into the air again. Any stragglers attempting to escape through the sewers were burned to charcoal by the gasoline floods.
The losses were catastrophic; catastrophic doesn't even begin to describe it.
This was a destructive, systematic purge. The flames illuminated the indifferent marching figures of Government Forces soldiers and the innumerable scattered limbs and charred, contorted corpses throughout the ruins. The drug cartel's power in the Medellin core area was being turned into a literal, burning scorched earth by the highest will.
Only a few of the most cunning and luckiest remnants might have scurried into deeper, darker corners amidst the chaos and smoke, like Rats.
And this day…
Those with a keen eye noticed.
The GPD and satellites couldn't locate Medellin. Some didn't care, but those who followed this Allies' war daily realized something was amiss.
Under what circumstances do you need a complete blackout for a city?
Moreover...
Even local journalists couldn't be reached; no calls could get through.
Something's not right!
Something huge is definitely happening in Medellin.
And it's something that could shock the entire world!
...