The "Bahamut Gang" clearly had far more weapons than the "Nine Gang" group of black n, possessing over a dozen pistols and several shotguns.
At the shout of a bald, burly man, a group of gang mbers overturned several stainless steel workbenches as cover, confronting Jack and his three companions deep within the room.
Gunfire erupted imdiately; three HK416s and one HK417 were insufficient to suppress the opposing force.
Jack took down two reckless individuals who dared to peek out, only to be simultaneously riddled with bullets from several shotguns, ending up in a disheveled state and a mouthful of cent dust.
"We can't waste ti here, let's launch a direct assault," he said, unfastening his tactical backpack and pulling out a pile of tear gas grenades.
Before entering the prison, Hondo had instructed him to replenish 7.62mm magazines in the armored vehicle's ammunition box, and he had casually filled his backpack with these and stun grenades.
SWAT team mbers had specific roles, and the limited space in their tactical backpacks necessitated carrying a multitude of potentially useful items, such as crowbars and ropes.
Jack, being an extra but physically strong man, essentially beca a mobile arsenal.
Besides carrying extra 5.56mm magazines for the HK416s for the others, he filled the rest of the space with these low-lethal but highly practical items for CQB combat.
"Put on your masks and cover him!" Deacon shouted, noticing a small pile of tear gas canisters at his feet, alerting the others.
The three HK416s opened fire simultaneously, three short bursts of fire that imdiately silenced the enemy.
Jack put on his gas mask, pinched two tear gas canisters in each hand, and threw six across the room in just three or four seconds.
It wasn't that he was ruthless; throwing too few wouldn't completely break down the enemy's resistance. Because the room was filled with washing and drying machines, the prison had specially installed two large ventilation fans.
As tear gas spread throughout the room, everyone felt a noticeable burning sensation on their exposed skin. The prisoners across from them, without gas masks, began coughing violently.
"Reload!" Deacon emptied his magazine first.
Jack, the grenadier, emptied his own stock and picked up his HK417 again, only to find that the other side had completely stopped firing.
"Go, go, go!"
Deacon reloaded and led the three forward. The further they went, the stronger the burning sensation on their exposed skin beca. The prisoners across from them were coughing so hard they were questioning their existence; no one could still hold their weapons.
"Drop your weapons and put your hands up!" The voice from behind the gas masks was muffled and hard to hear, but under the gun, even the most vicious beca docile.
Deacon and Jack pointed their guns at the group of thugs, preventing any further resistance.
Chris and Strickland opened the side door leading to the corridor and dragged out several n who were already lying on the ground, coughing up their lungs, to prevent them from suffocating inside.
The ventilation fan in the room whirred. As the acrid smoke gradually dissipated, nearly twenty tattooed n had their bulletproof vests removed, leaving them shirtless and slumped against the wall.
The eight rescued construction workers were also called back by Chris to help tie up the prisoners.
Deacon checked the identities of the construction workers one by one, confirming no one was mixed in with them. He then opened Moco Hernandez's photo but couldn't find a matching face.
He checked the corpses on the floor, finding nothing, and helplessly kicked a prisoner with red eyes and nose, asking,
"Where's your boss? Did he abandon you and run away?"
The prisoner, who had finally stopped coughing and was breathing heavily, didn't speak, but tilted his head towards a makeshift toilet partitioned off at the back.
"Bang!"
Almost simultaneously, the toilet door was kicked open, and a nacing "bear" strode out, the towel covering his head still dripping wet.
It was Moco Hernandez, the leader of the "Bahamut Gang."
"Get down, Moco Hernandez, lie down, big guy!" Strickland and Chris simultaneously pointed their guns at him.
Seeing the man approaching with a nacing glint in his eyes despite his raised hands, Strickland pulled off his gas mask and roared,
"Final warning, get down now!"
Moco Hernandez exhaled a heavy breath, a sound that seed both mocking and provocative, and forcefully tossed the wet towel aside. He then raised his hands again, waving them at the n in front of him.
The ssage was clear: co and get if you dare.
"If you guys want to go, I'll provide support from behind."
Jack readily admitted defeat with a look of disgust. The small cubicle only had a toilet; there wasn't even a water pipe. Where the water on his towel ca from was obvious.
"Thanks, Jack."
Chris rolled her eyes, then glanced at Deacon. "Can't we just shoot, Vice-Captain?"
Deacon sighed, slung his gun behind his back. "Let's all go together. Let's finish this quickly; Hondo needs us."
"Ladies first?" Strickland gave Chris a smug, gesturing gesture.
"You're dead when we get back, Strickland." Chris glared at the coward with disdain, yelled, and took a running start before charging forward.
A flurry of punches and kicks ensued. With Strickland acting as a human shield, taking two heavy blows for Chris, the three finally managed to pin the at least 280-pound behemoth to the ground. Jack thoughtfully handed her a pair of large handcuffs.
"Command, Block B is done. Let them in. We're going to support Hondo now."
While Deacon reported the situation over the radio, Jack was also talking to Rossi and Hannah on another channel.
"That's roughly the situation. We haven't found Hotchner and Reid in Block A or B. It seems they're most likely in Block D."
Rossi sighed on the other end, only able to remind Jack to be careful.
"Hannah, you might need to call your 'good friend' from the Los Angeles news for an interview. I found so news material that she might be interested in. The Ching Chong shit isn't allowed in our country, those disgusting freak culture must stay there."
Perhaps due to his morning grumpiness, Jack was particularly petty today and wanted to get revenge on the spot.
"Roger that. JJ and Emily are giving statents to that prison guard nad Tari. Several other guards are also willing to testify. The contractor, Ash Jones, is still unaware and has been staying in the command vehicle."
Hannah didn't repeatedly remind Jack. Having tead up with Jack to cause trouble more than once, she knew that the current situation was nothing to him.
The four-person team easily took care of Block B, but when they rushed to Block C to et up, they were t with a worried-looking Hondo.
[A/n: If I reber correctly, Bahamut Gang is mainly of black's right?
This Dude is calling them pigs and there are people who says I use derogatory terms on Ching Chong. Talk about equality.]
[A/n: A doubt.
If whoever owns the prison is a bit ruthless, then he would kill soone close to MC for revealing what is occurring in the prison. I an, Anderson family backed and helped Hannah because, one, she is family and two, they didn't provoke others, just tried to help and take revenge when they were targeted.
But MC had nothing to do with it, he just had to fucking do his mission, but no, he has to fuck things up.
If it is done in a realistic scenario, then Hannah or any one of his girlfriends would die. Just as a warning, why? because he wanted to be a hero.
Don't know why, but I am losing my mind over this issue and I am not even rich to be a capitalist.]
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