North American riot police: Start by arresting P. Diddy!

Chapter 241 Negotiations Failed, Preparations for a Tough Battle

White House.

Outside, everything remained calm and normal, but inside, chaos reigned, with all sorts of staff and officers bustling about, their feet barely touching the ground.

Inside the intelligence room, the president, cabinet members, and top Pentagon generals were engrossed in reviewing several large boxes of paper documents retrieved from the top-secret archives.

Although we have entered the 21st century and the vast majority of documents are now stored digitally, some core secrets are still preserved using the most primitive paper-based methods.

These yellowed file folders contain top-secret black operation documents!

The young military advisor, who had questioned General Hammer not long ago, carefully examined the documents, his already somber expression now clouded over.

These large boxes of documents record the secret missions carried out by General Hammer's "Black Ops" over the past few decades.

Every task must be kept secret and can only be permanently sealed away.

The reason is simple—these missions often involve clandestine operations targeting NATO member states, including neighboring countries currently enjoying a honeymoon period, as well as major Eastern powers with opposing ideologies.

Beheadings, seduction, turning political figures against their cause, creating riots, and even faking terrorist attacks!
These documents are like Pandora's box, containing the dirtiest secrets.

Even a single leak could cause the United States to lose face in the international arena and fall into a diplomatic disaster.

"so."

He looked at the Defense Minister: "Did we really secretly form a 'stay-at-home army' in Europe to plot terrorist attacks and frame the Communist Party?"

"Don't look at us like that, kid," Secretary Hudson said coldly. "This is an ideological war; there are only winners and losers, no right or wrong. If you have any moral fastidiousness, you shouldn't be in this position."

The advisor's Adam's apple bobbed as he spoke with difficulty: "I'm just shocked by the sheer scale of the operation—five huge boxes of black ops reports! If they're really released as Rorschach and Hammer have threatened, America's credibility will plummet to an all-time low!"

Everyone present understood this principle, but they had no time to consider it.

Thirty poison gas bombs are poised to be detonated on Alcatraz, heading straight for downtown San Francisco.

If it's just General Hammer bluffing, then the situation is still relatively optimistic; at least there's still a possibility of maneuvering.

But now the mastermind behind it all has changed to Rorschach Butcher—this unpredictable madman—forcing them to prepare for the worst.

The Black president flipped through these yellowed, top-secret files, his expression shifting between anger and uncertainty.

Do we really have to expose everything?

Although these mission reports were almost all signed and approved by his predecessors, the public doesn't care about these details; they will only point the finger at the current government and demand that it be held accountable.

At that time, he would become the target of public criticism and his political career would be ruined.

Perhaps we could launch a saturation attack under the guise of counter-terrorism and wipe the entire Alcatraz Island off the map.

Although it carries the risk of toxic gas leaks, at least it ensures that these dirty secrets will be forever buried at the bottom of the sea.

"Fake."

He couldn't help but mutter curses under his breath, cursing the cruel twist of fate.

If I had known I would run into so much bad luck during my term, I should have waited two more terms to run for office!
"My view is that if we don't want to see San Francisco become a living hell, and if none of you here want to step down, it is indeed necessary to release some information. But—"

Underwood suddenly spoke up, raising his index finger to emphasize, "We need to selectively filter content and guide public opinion. We can't reveal everything, and we can't afford to lose our composure. We need to grasp the key points and quell the situation at the lowest possible cost."

Everyone present fell silent.

The Black president rubbed his temples and said helplessly, "At this point, stop with the bureaucratic talk. Frank, just tell me your proposal."

Underwood smiled calmly: "There are five boxes of documents here. It would take three days and three nights to sort them all out. We just need to pick a few less sensitive cases to make a show of it. All the old man wants is a political gesture."

"What about the compensation?" someone asked eagerly.

Underwood waved his hand dismissively: "Pay it if you should. Compared to the lives of millions of people and the crisis of national credibility, what is this amount of money? Now is not the time to haggle over every little thing, gentlemen."

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Only the Black president remained frowning.

Underwood's suggestion was indeed reasonable and practical, but the problem was that even if only a small part was exposed, he, as president, would not escape the storm of public opinion, and his approval rating would inevitably plummet.

It is absolutely impossible for him to be re-elected, so he is still undecided.

"Jenny, how's your team doing? Have they landed on the island yet?" The president suddenly turned to the live feed of Homeland Security Director Jenny in the corner of the screen.

"The special forces are swimming underwater. If all goes well, they should be able to infiltrate successfully soon," Jenny reported calmly.

"very good."

The president nodded slightly, placing all his hopes on the team that had secretly infiltrated Alcatraz.

------------

San Francisco was shrouded in morning fog.

Beneath the icy waters near Alcatraz, Scarlett and her special forces are conducting a covert infiltration.

Everyone was wearing the latest MK-25 closed-circuit breathing apparatus. This advanced equipment does not produce any bubbles underwater, maximizing stealth.

After an hour of swimming in the freezing cold, even these battle-hardened special forces soldiers began to feel the fatigue brought on by the biting cold.

If they don't get ashore soon, hypothermia will cause muscle spasms.

Especially bomb disposal expert Stanley, whose physical condition is no different from that of an ordinary person, the continuous low temperature had already turned his lips blue, and if he did not go ashore soon, he would probably lose his ability to move.

Finally, the group arrived at a concrete structure beneath Alcatraz, which served as the entrance to the island's prison system's drainage pipes.

During the pre-operation briefing, they had already discussed the infiltration route in detail on the plane, and infiltrating through the drainage system was the most covert option.

The team members quickly split into two groups: one group used titanium alloy underwater cutting tools to remove the iron fence blocking the pipe entrance; the other group closely monitored the movements of the guards on the shore watchtower using thermal imaging equipment.

With the last obstacle cleared, they successfully infiltrated the drainage pipe, which was more than two meters in diameter.

Because of the rising tide, the water only reached their waists, finally giving them a chance to catch their breath.

"Huff!"

Stanley ripped off his diving mask, panting heavily: "Damn it! This swim was more intense than my annual workout!"

He slumped against the damp pipe wall, his hands trembling uncontrollably.

The duke, who was in charge of protecting him, warned in a low voice: "Don't relax too soon. We've only just reached the shore. The real challenges are yet to come."

He winked at the parachute rope, signaling it to protect Stanley closely, while he himself bypassed Scarlett and volunteered to be the vanguard scout.

Scarlett gave him a cold glance but did not stop him. The group began to move slowly through the dimly lit pipes.

But after walking less than ten meters, the Duke suddenly raised his left fist and made a stop gesture.

He knelt on one knee and carefully examined the ground.

There, a tripwire as thin as a hair was faintly visible.

"Booby trap".

The Duke grinned coldly: "It seems they brought a lot of good stuff with them when they came from Africa, even setting up such sophisticated gadgets."

"A lot?" Scarlett asked in a low voice.

The Duke took out his night vision goggles and put them on. The next second, dozens of intersecting infrared beams from the booby traps were clearly visible in his eyes.

"Looks like we need to warm up with a real-life Minesweeper game first."

The Duke stared at the infrared beams and laughed excitedly, "But this time, if you step on the wrong one, there's no going back." The parachute operator muttered under his breath, "I should have brought an engineer. This job is way more dangerous than defusing my ex-girlfriend's time bomb text messages."

Stanley's face turned even paler upon hearing this: "You special forces call this a warm-up exercise? When I was in school, nobody told me that bomb disposal professionals had to take diving certifications and triathlons!"

“Relax, Professor,” Scarlett said without turning her head. “Think of the positive side—at least these booby traps prove we’re in the right place. The more nervous the terrorists are, the closer we are to their precious toy.”

"Yes."

As the Duke carefully cut the first tripwire, he added, "It's like going on a date; the more guards at the door, the better the girl inside."

"Focus on defusing your mines!" Scarlett glared at her. "If you say another word, I'll shove you into a drainpipe and flush you back into San Francisco Bay."

Inside the prison, less than fifty meters away from them, two stories high.

Luo Xia was standing in front of a row of neatly arranged tripod launch platforms.

These M55 rocket launch systems are equipped with solid-fuel rocket engines, launch at a 45-degree elevation angle, and have a maximum range of up to twelve kilometers.

These thirty launchers, poised to fire, could theoretically cover an area of ​​24 square kilometers if they were to fire simultaneously—equivalent to one-third of downtown San Francisco.

With subsonic flight combined with low-altitude detonation, and the diffusion effect of sea breeze, these toxic gases could probably envelop the entire San Francisco city area in less than half an hour.

"Have all the VX gas grenades been loaded into their warheads?"

"Yes, everything was ready half an hour ago, and now we're just waiting for the White House's response."

Rorschach shrugged, looking at the old man with a half-smile: "You seem very confident that you can make the White House back down."

"That was true half an hour ago. But now..."

The old man didn't pretend to be tough; he shook his head with a gloomy expression, "I've already given up hope."

"Haha, that's for the best." Luo Xia put his arm around the old general's shoulder: "Actually, I can tell you with certainty that even if I hadn't come today, your plan was doomed to fail."

"Just because I'm too soft-hearted?"

"That's part of the reason, but the more crucial one is..."

Luo Xia suddenly pointed to the ground: "With the people you brought, I'm afraid you won't be able to stop the special forces coming in later."

"What?" The old man was stunned.

At that very moment, a barely perceptible whooshing sound suddenly rang out in the corridor outside.

"call out--"

Silenced gun?
The old man frowned deeply. Although the voice had been specially processed, it was impossible for it to escape the ears of a veteran like him who had been through many battles.

"Oh!"

The door was suddenly kicked open, and a group of fully armed special forces soldiers filed in.

In the corridor, almost all the soldiers that Old Man Mo had brought from Africa lay dead in pools of blood.

"This is."

Even Hammer, who was used to seeing life and death, couldn't help but gasp. He knew that the team consisted of elites from Delta Force and SEAL Team Six. How could they have been wiped out so silently?

Without any warning, the group opened fire as soon as they saw the thirty launchers behind Hammer and Rorschach!
They had already rushed close and no longer cared about concealment, unleashing their full firepower.

The gunfire was as dense as drumbeats, and although it avoided the VX warhead storage area behind them, it still accurately blocked all escape routes.

The old man instinctively tried to dodge, but his aged body couldn't keep up with his reaction speed.

At this critical moment, Rorschach suddenly moved!

He was so fast that he left afterimages; bullets whizzed past, but he dodged them with precision.

The moment the group reloaded, he burst out from a blind spot, his fists thundering, instantly knocking down three of them!
Upon seeing this, Snake Eyes immediately drew his katana!

The cold light appears!

The two exchanged several blows in an instant, their swords flashing and fists clashing, a dazzling display of skill.

Just as Snake Eyes unleashed a diagonal slash, Rorschach neither dodged nor parried, but instead punched the blade!

With a "crack," the steel katana shattered!

Tyrant's Fist: When activated, punches and kicks are increased by 300% for 3 seconds. Attacks have "shock penetration", which ignores armor and directly destroys internal organs and bones. It can even punch through light armor plates.

After smashing the long sword, the fist, still brimming with power, slammed heavily into Snake Eyes' chest!

The blow dented his sternum, killing him instantly!

In the blink of an eye, Rorschach took down several more people, leaving only Scarlett slumped on the ground, Stanley dumbfounded, and the Duke, who was seriously injured and coughing up blood.

He shook the blood off his hands and grinned at the three still-shaken men: "I thought you guys were all that capable, but you didn't even warm up properly."

"you you you you you"

Duke's voice caught in his throat, and his fingers trembled uncontrollably.

Just seconds before, they were a special forces unit with an absolute advantage, but after this man appeared, they couldn't even hold out for a single exchange, and the entire squad was almost wiped out.

Keep in mind that they are all elite soldiers who have been injected with the military's latest enhancement drugs and have undergone the most rigorous training. Each one of them is worth a whole company of elite soldiers.

But now, they are like lambs to the slaughter, powerless to fight back!
Rorschach glanced at the slumped men, then turned to the old man and said, “It seems the White House has no intention of negotiating at all; they just want to silence us. If I hadn’t been here today, General, not only would your plan have fallen through, but you would have lost your life.”

The old man's face turned ashen: "What do you intend to do?"

Rorschach grinned, revealing an almost fanatical smile: "It's simple—kill them all."

"Are you crazy?!"

The old man growled, "The Nimitz-class carrier strike group is already on its way! F-16s and B-1 bombers could arrive at any moment! What are you going to use to fight them?!"

Rorschach tilted his head: "General, didn't you work with [Cobra] before?"

"So what if it is?" The old man squinted.

Rorschach's eyes gleamed: "So, you must have nanobombs, right?"

"."

White House Situation Room

The president stared at the screen, watching the real-time surveillance footage of the special forces turn into a flurry of static, and his tense shoulders relaxed slightly.

"Fuck! I told you we couldn't force it!"

Underwood slammed his fist on the table. "We've completely enraged Rorschach! We need to hold a press conference immediately to show our willingness to negotiate and stabilize the situation!"

"Do not."

The president slowly raised his hand, a relieved smile even appearing on his lips.

"They refused to negotiate and wiped out our special forces—now, we finally don't have to worry about public opinion anymore."

He turned to the Minister of Defense and the commanders of the various armed forces, his voice resolute: "Notify the carrier battle group and the Air Force command—"

"Negotiations failed, prepare for a tough battle!"

(End of this chapter)