xico is now the darling of the news dia!
Mostly because Victor is quite "out of the ordinary".
The latest issue of Ti Magazine has made him a household na in the United States, even showing up in new public opinion polls.
78% of Arican won think Victor is an "excellent" bed partner, and 45% of n think Victor is a great companion as well.
Luckily, he hasn’t been paying much attention to "off-field" activities lately, or else... he’d definitely light up these big brothers with so rockets.
Most importantly, his statents are very intense and have sparked discussions across all levels of Arican society, especially his claim, "Drug users should be shot too!"
In Oregon State, which is rife with drugs, he’s even considered the least welco person, but in so "Redneck areas" he’s a "great" man, exactly the kind of shock those drug-using Blue States bird-dudes need.
So...
A lot of Arican journalists, even Canadian ones, hope to interview Victor, and so minor tabloid dia have joined the fray, the kind that can’t make it to the big league.
Many requests have been rejected.
Not influential enough, Victor wasting ti playing "house" with you?
But these people couldn’t bear to just leave after having co all this way, so they mustered up their courage and headed to the "Emmisi Steel Factory" frontline, hoping to score so explosive news.
Arican newspapers of the ’90s aren’t having an easy ti either.
They can’t even afford to eat, damn it.
In a farmstead 2 kiloters away from the Anti-Drug Force, where the journalists rested, a group of reporters gathered at the Village Head’s house early in the morning.
They ate the unappetizing cornbread, the atmosphere was sowhat quiet.
"F***!"
Suddenly, a photographer seated on the left side threw his soup spoon on the table, "How long are we going to stay here? We’re tabloid reporters, not war correspondents. If it doesn’t work out, can’t we just make sothing up? Didn’t the news figures of the past do just that?"
He stated it outright, but the reporters present didn’t show the slightest surprise—who hadn’t done it before?
"Bogdan, it’s said Victor isn’t soone with a good temper. If you write his gossip recklessly, I’m afraid you might..." A reporter sitting next to him glanced over and joked.
Don’t think no one would do it, Colonel Ka was called "psychotic" by an Arican publication in 1985, saying it ran in his family, a hereditary issue.
Then...
The newspaper office exploded!
Directly deal with the person involved, once and for all.
At the ti, it caused an uproar, the FBI, CIA were dragged out and whipped, and the murderer was found, but... the guy was in North Africa, and it was said later on he was pressed to the ground by the five Bandits and done in because he had been too arrogant.
"Biu~" The joking reporter even raised two fingers, mimicking a gun and making shooting noises with his mouth.
Ratatat!
Suddenly, gunfire erupted outside, and the journalists inside were stunned. The one called Bogdan hurried to the window to look out, only to see three pickup trucks rushing into the village, with more than a dozen ard militants jumping off.
Carrying AK47s and wearing masks, they were nacingly firing into the sky.
"Sinaloa Group!" Bogdan recognized the logo on the vehicles instantly and shouted in panic.
!!!
"How could drug traffickers be here? Isn’t the xican Anti-Narcotics Force up front?"
Bogdan waved his hands excitedly, "F***, I knew xicans were useless for anything, who knows if they’re really fighting drugs or not, run!"
He shouted to his colleagues from the sa dia outlet and grabbed his bag to dash out, not noticing his feet and tripping over the table corner, falling clumsily to the ground.
Just then, the door was pushed open.
Bogdan looked up to see a plump man, his combat dress looking like it was stuffed over a turtle’s shell, wearing a mask and sunglasses, with an AK47 in hand.
"Gentlen, uh, and ladies, I am pleased to inform you, you’ve been kidnapped!"
"Does anyone disagree?"
...
The support troops set out overnight from Tijuana, and by dawn, they had arrived at the "Emmisi Steel Factory".
Seeing the TOS—1 coming down from the semi-trailer, Victor smiled broadly, patting its tracks, "Look, this is my darling!"
Zolf Sherman looked at this "Beehive"-like launcher with curiosity, even climbing up to gesture at the caliber.
What’s the concept of a 24-tube 220mm caliber?
If you stuck your butt in there, coming out of it, you’d be a weapon.
"Director, I’ve never seen this thing before, is it a secret weapon we developed on our own?" the new commander of the 442nd Regint, Vasili, couldn’t hold back any longer.
He’d been curious about these guys all along!
Never seen them before, and the worst part was, he only knew it was called so TOS multiple rocket launcher system, but as for what it launches and how powerful it is, Vasili had no clue.
Victor just smiled at his question.
Even though this thing was developed back in the ’70s, it wasn’t until ’98 that Big Bear equipped their forces with it. To break into the overseas market, its performance was partially revealed at the just-concluded "2005 Abu Dhabi Defense Expo".
Should Victor be considered an early adopter?
Holy shit!
The KGB won’t co after him, will they?
It shouldn’t; in Russia these days, what can’t you buy? As long as you pay and find the right person, you can get anything you want.
Didn’t the Indian guy bribe so people and then loan ten billion Rubles... um… and then pay it back after the Russian Bear went under, nearly pissing them off enough to take action against him.
"You could say that, this weapon can determine the course of the battlefield!" Victor laughed, patting the chassis, which is actually the damn T72, weighing 42 tons, suited for driving in rugged and complex terrain, maintaining a speed of up to 60 kiloters per hour, and it also inherits the good protective capabilities of a main battle tank.
Moreover, it is also known as the "Flathrower Tank!"
"Hurry, drive to the outside of the steel mill, give those drug traffickers a treat, today we celebrate!"
"Is today a holiday?" Vasili scratched his head in bewildernt, looking at Zolf Sherman and asking, "It shouldn’t be on the xican calendar, should it?"
"Who printed that calendar?"
"Just bought it from the market."
Zolf Sherman patted his shoulder, "We’ll change it internally later, all the others are wrong; in Baja California, we live by Victor ti."
Vasili was confused.
Is there such a thing?
"Boss, is it okay to use this during broad daylight?" Kennedy asked Victor.
"Afraid of what? The reporters have been... the drug traffickers caught them. Have EDM handle the launch, dig out a tank shelter."
If the boss said it’s okay, then it’s okay!
"Get everyone out, no need for unnecessary charges. If the traffickers can hold out for three more days in this steel factory, then f*** it, I’ll write my na, Victor, backwards!"
In the old office building inside the steel mill.
Alfredo, the youngest of the four Beltran Leyva brothers, was munching on bread, frowning, and suddenly asked, "Didn’t the police co in today?"
He hadn’t heard any gunfire, which was a bit unsettling for him.
He actually wanted to fight street battles in Hermosillo, but the steel mill, standing just outside the city, was even better for ambushes; plus, the thickness of its walls was several tis that of the buildings downtown, effectively shielding Alfredo and his Los Zetas allies.
Police artillery couldn’t even scratch the steel factory.
Just hold off the anti-drug forces from moving southward, without damaging the base camp in Sinaloa State, and wait for Guzman to return from Colombia. Then it would be ti to counterattack.
At that ti...
All the suffering they endured would be returned to Victor exactly as it was received!
That bastard... since the start of the drug enforcent efforts, the group had suffered huge losses, nearly reaching the point of selling their own shorts. Luckily, they could still transport from other places, otherwise, they might as well have disbanded earlier.
"Boss, it looks like the police really did retreat. Could they be afraid?" a drug trafficker returned from a lookout and said with a smile.
Alfredo’s eyes narrowed, his eyelids twitched, afraid?
If they were afraid of death, they wouldn’t have joined the anti-drug force.
"Contact the other squads, ask what happened?"
Alfredo, responsible for laundering money within the organization, was known for being vigilant and ticulous. Seeing him like this, the leading traffickers in the room were startled.
"Do we really need to ask..."
"Just ask when I tell you to, what’s with all the chatter!" A mber of Los Zetas next to him cursed.
The drug trafficker shrank back, reluctantly picking up the radio to inquire, still muttering to himself.
"Boss, do you suspect there’s so kind of conspiracy going on here?" a mber of Los Zetas asked in a low voice.
"My gut tells there’s a... bad premonition."
Gut feelings, the most mysterious of things!
He walked over to the window, took a glance outside, and in that single look, he saw dozens of rockets flying in from the horizon?
"Run to the tunnel, quick, rockets incoming!"
Inside the office building, everyone rushed frantically. There was a safe bunker below.
They were used to it.
At first, everyone thought it was just a regular... rocket!
Whoosh whoosh whoosh~
The thermobaric bombs from a 24-barrel beehive "fud" as they hurled towards the steel factory, with four "fla-throwing tanks" striking from different angles!
If the sky had a drone filming, one would see what violent bombardnt looks like!
Boom!!
The massive shockwaves generated by the thermobaric bombs were so clear and visible even to Victor 2 kiloters away, creating a condensation cloud!
This was actually a type of evolved incendiary bomb, with a small amount of high explosives inside, alongside a high-energy solid made of polyvinyl chloride and aluminum powder wrapped around, detonating upon the thermobaric rocket hitting its target.
In about the fraction of a blink, a small-scale explosion first occurred, followed in microseconds by a second explosion, producing a massive detonation wave with the aluminum powder burning under high temperature and pressure!
And temperatures reaching several thousand degrees Celsius.
Such heat...
Li i would complain that the fire was too big and burnt the food, saying it tasted awful if she were here.
But that wasn’t even the scariest part; the terror of thermobaric bombs lay in their ability to completely deplete the oxygen in the target area, ensuring that even if enemies in bunkers and tunnels didn’t die instantly.
They would suffocate from the ensuing lack of oxygen!
As for the level of pain... well, since nobody lived to "X" it out, it must have been decent, getting five-star reviews. MacArthur even said, "If I’d had thermobaric bombs back then, perhaps you ought to call Emperor."
So people called this weapon "controlled dust explosion."
In the era of the internet, many online military enthusiasts thought it was pointless, not as formidable as touted, and even labeled it a trash weapon.
But they...
Talk as they might, not one dared to try it out.
"Fire another round!"
Victor put down his binoculars, "I didn’t see clearly."
...
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