"Clear!"
"Understood!"
"Received!"
"Check your gear, we'll move out in ten minutes!"
The team mbers imdiately dispersed and did a final check of their weapons.
The SSO mbers used Czech-made V-AR 5.56mm assault rifles. This weapon combines the accuracy of the AR platform and the durability of the AK series. Paired with an advanced silencer and holographic sight, it is a formidable weapon in close-quarters indoor CQB environnts.
They skillfully checked their firearms, spare magazines, hand grenades on their tactical vests, flexible breaching charges, and backup night vision goggles—even though it was dayti.
The "Sand Fox" mbers primarily checked their AK-103 assault rifles and the PKM general-purpose machine gun, which required two people to operate. The golden ammo belt was carefully sorted out.
"Iron Hamr" and a sturdy "Sand Fox" mber together huffed and puffed as they loaded the heavy AGS-17 "Fla" 30mm automatic grenade launcher and several heavy drums filled with 30 grenades into the back of a pickup.
Song Heping and Jiang Feng moved behind a broken cent pillar.
Jiang Feng handed over a piece of chewing gum and whispered, "Old squad leader, I just connected over the border. Samir's 'Liberation Forces' and the Ayoub Brigade are ready. As soon as you succeed, they'll be able to support you on the border anyti. The route is absolutely safe."
Song Heping took the gum, tossed it into his mouth, chewed a few tis, and said, "Thanks. Let's wrap up this ss quickly. I'd like to rest on the Persian Plateau for a few days. Damn Chef, never any good news."
Ten minutes passed in the blink of an eye.
The roaring of engines started one after the other as five vehicles, covered in thick dust and disguised as local militant pickup trucks, bounced through the ruins of the repair shop, blending into the endless wasteland around Kubai Town.
The convoy maintained a loose yet orderly formation, winding along the faint track worn into the Gobi Desert by previous vehicles.
Each ti they passed a possible observation point or brushed by an occasional local van or donkey cart, the "militants" in the truck beds, with most of their faces wrapped in headscarves with only a pair of cold eyes exposed, had their fingers resting lightly on the trigger guards.
Fortunately, their disguise did not attract any undue attention.
The distant, faint sound of artillery fire from the Mannier direction seed to serve as their best cover.
About five kiloters from the target area, the leading pickup flashed its turn signal, and the convoy slowly turned into a low-lying area behind a patch of low shrubs.
"We're here! Attention everyone, dismount, on foot!"
Song Heping's voice rang out in the encrypted channel, clear and concise.
The team mbers, like well-trained hounds, silently jumped down from the trucks.
Unnecessary burdens were quickly unloaded and hidden in the vehicles, with two "Sand Fox" mbers left to guard them.
"Hawkeye, release the bird." Song Heping ordered.
A small multi-rotor drone lifted lightly from "Hawkeye's" hand, emitting an almost inaudible hum, like a real desert insect, swiftly flying towards the outskirts of Latamira.
The real-ti footage from the control terminal was transmitted back steadily and shared on the portable terminals of Song Heping and Petrovsky.
"Move out."
Without extraneous commands, the team ford a dispersed tactical formation, like water seeping into the sand, silently and swiftly lting into the vast and scorching wilderness.
The midday heat of the Gobi quickly made everyone sweat profusely, and the heavy combat uniforms clung tightly to their skin. Apart from the heavy breathing and the faint sound of boots against sand and gravel, there were no other noises.
After a whole half of the trek, the team reached the pre-arranged assembly point—behind a rocky hillside about 600 ters northwest of the target building.
"Halt. All groups, proceed to positions as planned."
Song Heping crouched low and carefully crawled to the top of the hillside. Then he squatted behind a giant rock, raising his binoculars with a low voice.
In the distance, the mud-yellow two-story building appeared sowhat distorted in the simring heat waves, but its outline was clear.
The courtyard gate was closed, with an old, indistinct Jeep parked inside. On the rooftop, a small human figure seed to be moving slowly.
"Hawkeye, let the drone get closer for a better view." Song Heping said into the microphone.
"Understood, moving in closer."
"Hawkeye" responded, his fingers subtly moving on the control sticks.
The image on the terminal screen gradually zood in, becoming clearer: a sentry with an AK rifle was on the rooftop, leaning wearily against the railing, occasionally wiping sweat off.
In the courtyard, three militants lounged in a small patch of shadow cast by the building, dozing by the wall with their rifles casually laid down nearby.
All doors and windows on the first floor were closed. On the east side of the second floor, a window was heavily curtained, but the edge of the curtain occasionally stirred, revealing faint figures moving behind.
"Confird: one fixed sentry on the rooftop, three in the courtyard, all napping. No periter patrol detected. Activity detected in the second-floor east room, high probability target present." "Hawkeye" calmly reported the observation results.
"Sniper team received. Moving to the east high ground, estimated to be in position in five minutes."
"Hunter's" voice ca through the channel as he and "Cold Blade" moved silently like agile mountain goats, using the rocks as cover, crawling to the designated sniper position.
"Fire support team received. Moving to the command point flank."
Naxin also reported progress.
The "Sand Fox" team he led, carrying the AGS-17 and machine gun, was moving along a dry gully to a relatively flat position behind the hillside.
Song Heping, Petrovsky, and the other assault group mbers stayed at the assembly point to make the final preparations.
Petrovsky went to his team mbers one by one, speaking in a voice so low it was almost a whisper: "Listen, once inside, switch all guns to semi-auto and use suppressors as a priority. 'Iron Hamr', 'Frost', you take the left side; 'Thunder God', 'Angel', the right side; 'Shadow' follow , cover the middle and the stairs. Clear the first floor as fast as possible, then go straight to the second floor. Rember, Orwell must be captured alive, don't get so excited and turn him into Swiss cheese!"
anwhile, Song Heping, using his binoculars and the drone's feedback, ticulously analyzed every detail of the building one final ti—the thickness of the walls, the position of the windows, possible firing apertures, and the best approach route and entry point for the assault team.
A few minutes later, voices ca through the channel again.
"Hunter reports, sniper position established. Good visibility, can cover the rooftop sentry, most of the courtyard area, and the east side of the building. No other abnormalities detected."
"Fire support team in position, PKM and AGS-17 set up and ammunition ready, can fire anyti." Naxin's voice followed closely.
"Command point in position."
Song Heping finally confird, adjusting the binoculars' focus, the crosshair steadily aligned with the rooftop sentry still yawning.
Now, only Petrovsky's assault team needed to move to the final attack position.
"Assault team, move to the final departure position."
Petrovsky took a deep breath and gave the order.
Six SSO team mbers, dressed in camouflage and their faces camouflaged with paint, moved silently like ghosts erging from the shadows of rocks. Holding their rifles low, they used every minor terrain variation and vegetation cover on the ground, advancing as two three-man arrowhead formations, alternately covering each other as they swiftly and silently moved toward the shallow gully on the south side of the target building.
Their movents were fluid and coordinated, and the silencer-equipped V-AR rifles pointed in ever-changing directions of potential threats as the bodies moved, emitting a dull gleam in the scorching sunlight.
Song Heping followed each leaping figure closely through his binoculars.
They were like an axe poised overhead, silently drawing nearer to the target's throat.
The assault team smoothly reached the predetermined attack launch position—about thirty ters from the courtyard's south wall in a natural shallow depression.
The team mbers quickly crouched and adjusted their slightly rapid breathing.
Petrovsky peered through the grass to observe the courtyard, then raised a clenched fist, signaling toward the command point—ready.
Everyone's nerves were taut as tight as they could go.
The encrypted channel was deathly quiet, with only an occasional faint electric hiss breaking it.
Song Heping licked his dry lips, his gaze sweeping over the entire target area, confirming every elent was perfectly in place, with no unforeseen issues.
He calmly pressed the microphone button at his throat, and his voice, carried by radio waves, was clearly transmitted to each team mber's ear:
"Action comnce!"
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