Taxes are only within machine gun range!

Chapter 178 Total Annihilation
As an infrared + ultraviolet guided warhead, it does not have a "fire control radar" when locking onto a target, so it will not trigger the RWR (radar warning receiver) on the helicopter.

The fact that the pilot received an alert means that the missile has arrived and is already in the air!

To evade a missile like the Stinger, which is not only infrared guided, it is not enough to just release flares and chaff; one also needs to make emergency maneuvers at high speeds.

To survive this sudden and unexpected blow, the window of opportunity for reaction is less than a second, or even nonexistent.

Hovering, extremely close range, missiles coming from three different directions, and teammates rappelling down at the same time...

It's simply impossible for the crew to process so much information in an instant.

The driver was in a state of shock. Before he could react, he saw a blinding flash of light followed by a violent explosion.

The friendly helicopter dropped flares, but the missile still hit the helicopter's vulnerable engine!

The Black Hawk, billowing thick black smoke, went out of control in the air, spinning and crashing to the ground, killing the two SAD warriors who were still rappelling.

Berlente didn't have time to use the walkie-talkie to check on his teammates' situation. He could only grit his teeth, grip onto something tightly, and adopt a defensive posture, trying his best to protect his vulnerable parts with bulletproof plates.

boom!
In an instant, Berlente also heard the sound of an explosive device exploding above his head, and the helicopter spun out of control and crashed to the ground—the various alarms in the cockpit had become so loud that they were nauseating!
boom! ! !
The helicopter crashed heavily to the ground, throwing Berlente out of the cabin. He slammed onto the ground and rolled a considerable distance.

"Ugh... Damn it!" He forced himself to endure the various pains in his body, first checking his night vision equipment to make sure it was still intact, then glanced around and quickly found cover to hide behind. "Report back! Everyone who can still speak, report back immediately!"

At the same time, he was using his eyesight to search for all available battlefield information.

The debris from the helicopter rotor pierced directly through the pilot and co-pilot, killing them both and resulting in a two-person loss.

Two rappellers from the other helicopter and one rappeller from their own helicopter were seriously injured, resulting in a loss of three lives.

"..."

Berlent knew that his SAD squad was in dire straits—just a few missiles had forced them to start gathering information from scratch, which was originally taken for granted!

For example, how many teammates are left who can fight, their locations, their equipment—all this information has been completely destroyed!
But Berlent was, after all, one of the best among the world's top special forces, and he quickly managed to sort out a semblance of order from a terrible hand of circumstances in an incredibly complex and desperate environment.

"A total of 6 people have been lost, and the equipment damage is... We're now divided up. Group B is very close to the tax bureau and has cover..."

"An unexpected event has occurred during the mission, and the original plan has been terminated. I am now announcing a new plan."

"Break through at all costs—as long as one person can get back alive."

Several heavy "Received"s came through the walkie-talkie.

The SADs had long lost their former carefree attitude. Even after many brushes with death and witnessing the deaths of many comrades, they had never encountered such a despairing situation.

Everyone understands the true meaning of this mission—to survive.

Survival has become the ultimate goal of any mission, which shows just how desperate the situation is.

But the SADs lived up to their name, and even at this point, they reorganized in just over ten seconds.

They realized that the "tax bureau's" setup was highly professional, so they actually used the environment to their advantage and conceal their whereabouts as much as possible!

“We’ve been ambushed. The enemy knew we were going to make a move tonight,” Berlente said, lying on the ground. “There are enemies both inside and outside the tax office!”

Quincy, standing beside Berlente, gritted his teeth and asked, "So what do we do? Break out or go fight the tax office?!"

The situation is now so dire that it's beyond redemption. If we choose to storm the heavily guarded tax office, we'll probably be surrounded like an iron barrel after the battle. Milton won't even need to fight; he can starve them to death.

But if they choose to turn around and break through, they don't even want to think about how many firepower the tax authorities will have to come after them.

Without support or supplies, all their external communication equipment was destroyed along with the helicopters, they were armed with only light weapons, and they were at a significant disadvantage in terms of manpower.

From a tactical perspective, this is a dead end; even the most powerful war god couldn't find a perfect solution.

Berlente thought for a full two seconds before speaking: "Group A, break through; Group B, attack the tax bureau!"

"Roger that!"

Yes, even with so many casualties, even with being outmaneuvered, even with having to launch an attack on an enemy whose numbers far outnumber their own, even with having to divide their forces, they still have the confidence to win.

His record of taking on 10 or even 20 opponents is not just talk.

"After breaching the tax office, Team B hid inside and used every means possible to delay the time."

"After breaking through, I will immediately request to use diplomatic means to save you."

Yes, there's no solution in terms of the battle, but they are the CIA, and they can use much more than just force.

If even one member of Group A can escape, this deadlock can be resolved!

Sure enough, the morale of the SADs improved somewhat: "Yes, sir!"

As long as there is still hope, that's enough.

"Group B, follow me, disperse and break out to the east. Everyone, confirm your positions and take cover; the enemy must be looking for us."

"Avoid revealing your location as much as possible."

When giving the order, Berlent once again felt how troublesome the opponent was. If it were any other opponent, they would definitely want to surround them right now, or even spray several machine guns at them to expose their position.

The other side hasn't made a single move yet!

Berlente was certain that the area around the tax office was now swarming with enemy troops, but the SADs, equipped with night vision gear, couldn't see anything!
How terrifying!

They certainly didn't go home to sleep; they were secretly observing everything. Their purpose was clear: to deliver the heaviest blow when their position was exposed.

Milton's goal was to annihilate them all!

"understand……"

Several SAD team members responded while slowly advancing, each controlling the field of vision within a 30-degree angle in front of the team.

Apart from the crackling sound of the Black Hawk helicopter burning fiercely behind them, the entire process was completely silent.

They may be in a hurry, but they are definitely not in a sorry state!

At that moment, Team B, responsible for attacking the tax bureau, was also ready. Knowing that the enemy might have made preparations, they did not choose to attack through the main gate.

Instead, he planned to climb through the window!

Start cleaning the room simultaneously from two directions that form a 90-degree angle.

"Prepare the stun grenades..."

"on!"

Boom!

After Group B began its attack on the tax office, which relieved some of the pressure of being attacked from both sides, Berlente led his group to continue the breakout operation.

At this point, apart from ambient sounds, the SADs still couldn't capture even a single piece of information related to Milton from the noise-canceling headset.

Why is the other party so calm?
Are you that confident in fighting close-quarters combat?

In night combat, no matter how well prepared or how strong the fighting force, it is impossible to guarantee that the enemy will appear in the field of vision at the same time and fall down like French fries.

What's more, they are SAD!

Let's wait until the tax bureau fires a shot from behind and see who's stronger...

Berent gripped his weapon tightly, believing he had found a flaw that Milton had revealed—perhaps he had slightly underestimated SAD's strength.

This underestimation could very well be their only hope for escape.

However, just as Berlente was nervously waiting for the CQB to begin behind him, several voices suddenly came through the walkie-talkie.

"Damn it, Milton, that madman, planted so many tripwires right next to the windows!"

"Fortunately, we were cautious enough."

"I'll deactivate the tripwire; you all guard the entrance."

"Wait a minute... this tripwire mine doesn't only have one detonation method!"

"Anything else?"

The SAD member's voice was filled with terror: "Holy shit, and he even has an infrared sensor! Holy shit! This tripwire was just to lure us into triggering an infrared trap. Milton is fucking insidious, so fucking insidious!"

Who the hell can withstand this double trap?!

You discovered a trap, but it turned out to be just bait to lure you into another trap.

What kind of dark psychology does someone have to come up with such a despicable trick?
"Can it be lifted?"

"The risk is too great. We're retreating. We'll attack from another direction. If all else fails, we'll use explosives to break through the wall. There's no other way. Can you imagine that in such a small town, you could see this kind of reinforced concrete structure..."

However, before they could finish speaking, several SAD team members, who had been extremely cautious and had not touched any traps, were engulfed by an extremely intense and terrifying fireball and shockwave.

The booby trap made with a 500kg aerial bomb still exploded!

boom!
Berlente turned around in astonishment and saw the steel frame twist and crumble like tin foil. A shockwave carrying flames swept across a 50-meter radius area at an impenetrable speed, engulfing the entire sturdy tax office and causing it to collapse with a roar!

A scorching mix of steel bars and concrete fragments swept across, blowing the SAD warriors furthest from the tax office next to Berlente into the air.

Immediately afterward, Berlente's back slammed heavily against the bunker, the bulletproof plates making a teeth-grinding cracking sound. He instinctively spat out the foreign objects in his mouth—two broken teeth and a mouthful of blood!

The powerful shockwave displaced all of his internal organs!

The surrounding air was thick with pungent odors and scorching heat; every breath Berlente took felt like an extremely inhumane and cruel form of torture. Even his weapons had been blown away, nowhere to be seen.

But he still used his amazing willpower to keep himself from falling asleep and forced himself to crawl forward.

"Ugh... Ugh! Cough cough..."

"Is anyone there...? Please reply!"

"Is anyone still alive?"

As Berlente continued to crawl forward, he kept trying to call his teammates using the broken walkie-talkie.

No one answered him, and he heard no answer.

Now all Berlente can hear is a loud "buzzing" sound.

No one from Group B, who was responsible for storming the building, could have survived. Among Group A, only Berent and his group were a little further away from the tax office, but even so, they would at least be seriously injured.

Finally, after crawling for a while longer with difficulty, Berlente saw a person lying on the ground, still breathing.

"Quincy, Quincy...are you alright?!"

Berlent climbed over with all his might, but the scene before him plunged his spirits into despair once again.

Quincy wasn't so lucky. A broken steel bar pierced through a gap in his bulletproof plate, opening a large gash in his abdomen. His intestines spilled onto the ground, and blood gushed out uncontrollably. Unless he could go to the hospital for surgery right now, he would already be dead.

"Captain...it hurts, it hurts so much...I'm so sleepy."

Berlente's tears were mixed with blood—with his eardrum ruptured and his noise-canceling headphones broken, he could no longer hear Quincy's voice.

But you can still understand the lip movements.

"me……"

Despair and pain were evident in Quincy's eyes as he slowly suffocated to death.

Berlente finally realized a fact: from beginning to end, they had no chance of escaping.

Even from the tax office that had been blown into the sky, Berlente could feel Milton's intense killing intent and malice, which was almost tangible.

"Heh...cough cough!"

Berent staggered to his feet, turning his head to look at the scattered corpses of SAD members around him—his night vision equipment was damaged, but the towering flames had completely illuminated the area, so he no longer needed any night vision equipment.

A special forces team that was enough to strike fear into the hearts of the world was completely wiped out.

Even those who survived were severely injured, and very few could stand up.

……

Meanwhile, in a small building in a nearby town.

The instant the aerial bomb exploded, Milton rushed downstairs, jumped into the car, and raced with Flora toward the tax office.

"Tsk, you actually dared to make all our men hide? Aren't you afraid they'll escape?"

Yes, contrary to what Berent had imagined, Milton did not set up a tight encirclement around the tax office. The few squads that were there hid behind cover as deep as possible.

The aerial bomb is about to explode. Are they sending so many people to surround it because they want to die together?
Flora glanced at the DEA agent who was eerily silent in front of her, then secretly gave Milton a thumbs up: "I didn't expect your investigative abilities to be so strong. The SAD people didn't escape your observation from beginning to end. You're a complete clown."

That's because a panel directly lit them up...

“What I didn’t expect was that in the end, I still had to manually trigger the ‘booby trap’,” Milton said. “The tripwire, infrared sensor and manual remote control detonation methods were supposed to be mutually safe, but... SAD truly lives up to its reputation as one of the most elite special forces. Their level of caution and professionalism is something our people should learn from.”

Flora shook her head: "You can't learn that. You can't learn it without real combat experience."

Seeing the two chatting as if nothing had happened, Winnie couldn't help but ask, "...You guys just wiped out an entire SAD special operations team!"

“Yes, I know, you don’t need to remind me.” Milton gave her a strange look. “Is there a problem?”

“…No, there’s nothing wrong.” Winnie was a little dazed. “I suddenly understand why you were able to take down Tapachula.”

Compared to Milton, even drug dealers seem so handsome and naive.

To eliminate just a dozen or so people, Milton decisively chose to sacrifice his own base. Who would have thought that?
“The problem now isn’t the battle itself anymore,” another DEA agent said with a wry smile. This time, his voice no longer held the wariness and distrust of the past, but rather a deep sense of fear and shock. “Do you have any good ideas on how to clean this up? Do you know how many CIA members have been lost overnight? Do you know what kind of earthquake will be triggered in the United States by the downing of two Black Hawk helicopters?”

The good news is that Winnie's new warlord is indeed trustworthy; the bad news is that he's a little too trustworthy.

Milton looked very relaxed: "Of course I know, that's why you're here."

What do you plan to do?

Milton patted the Gulf Cartel drug dealer on the face: "It's simple. Just say that a Mexican drug cartel organized a large-scale cross-border operation to overthrow the local government, which is me."

“It just so happens that the local government and the DEA are conducting joint law enforcement operations against this subversion. You can make up a reason for the CIA’s presence, saying that they all sacrificed themselves in this confrontation.”

"In short, it's all Gulf Group's fault."

"This Stinger missile system and the head of this Gulf Group member are the most conclusive and powerful evidence—they will definitely be able to find out that the Stinger missile system eventually ended up in the Gulf Group, and they will also be able to confirm that this person is a minor leader in the Gulf Group."

Milton spoke very casually, seemingly trying to shift the blame to the Gulf Group, but the real meaning behind his words was that DEA was definitely going to take the fall.

"..."

Winnie took a deep breath and said, "'Tax collector,' you know, although such an explanation is impeccable, people aren't stupid, they won't believe it. If I help you with this, it's like shouting in the street with a megaphone, 'I, Winnie, was the one who wiped out this SAD team, and you can fight me if you dare.'"

For some reason, Winnie also started calling Milton by his nickname.

Milton answered very quickly: "Really? Back at the Tapachula police station, didn't the CIA agents use megaphones to shout in the street that we were the ones who killed this DEA team?"

Winnie's expression changed drastically, and it took her a while to recover. Her voice turned cold: "A very low-level provocation, 'tax collector'."

"Never mind whether it's low-level or not, just tell me if it's useful or not."

“I admit, it was very useful.” Winnie maintained her usual tone. “I was really interested in taking a megaphone and telling those people that I was the one who killed them… and then watching them go berserk.”

Winnie's captain and comrades all sacrificed their lives in a drug bust.

How could she not avenge this? How could she swallow this hatred?
The CIA can be said to have been the work of the Gulf Group, and Winnie can now also be said to have been the work of the Gulf Group. An eye for an eye, karma is swift and satisfying, and this is the most satisfying way to get revenge.

“But simply taking down one SAD team is far from enough,” Winnie added. “I can take the blame for this, but after today, you will definitely be on the CIA’s kill list—there is no possibility of reconciliation.”

"Let me emphasize again, you may not realize the impact of tonight's events now, but you will in the future."

“A year ago, the Black Hawk Down of 1993 would have paled in comparison to what happened today—because it was the complete annihilation of the entire SAD team.”

Milton clicked his tongue twice: "Really? I've already called the reporters over and am preparing for a comprehensive, real-time news report. This scene will be broadcast on a loop all over the world. I guarantee that the whole world will have at least a week's worth of electronic pickled vegetables."

Since we've already thoroughly offended the CIA, we might as well spit on them one more time.

“…You… never mind, do whatever you want, I won’t interfere.” Winnie shook her head abruptly. “We’re almost there. Have your people sent you any intelligence? Are there any SAD members putting up any resistance?”

“Unless they’re Superman,” Milton scoffed. “Willpower can overcome many things, but it can’t overcome aerial bombs.”

Our soldiers' combat skills are currently inferior to those of the elite U.S. special forces.

But to say that the entire opposing team could withstand a 500KG attack and still lose would be a joke.

Milton's counterintelligence system showed that only four enemies were still alive, and just now one of them disappeared.

He clearly died from severe injuries.

Given this situation, what fighting power do the remaining three have? Let alone firing a gun, they'd probably have trouble even standing up or hearing anything.

Soon, Milton, led by several tax police officers whose faces were filled with awe, arrived at the outskirts of the tax office.

The fire had subsided somewhat, but it still illuminated a large area around it.

“‘The Godfather’…over there, we found someone who can still move, and seems to be of good status.”

Milton nodded slightly, followed, kicked aside a corpse with its intestines spilling out, and stood before the man.

"Winnie, look, do you recognize her?"

Winnie crouched down and took a closer look: "His name is Berent, an instructor sent by SAD to the Guatemalan army. He has a pretty good position."

Berlente stared at the corpse of his comrade, whom Milton had kicked aside like a dead dog, and tears of blood streamed down his face once more: "You, you all..."

Milton pulled a stack of papers from his pocket and, while writing something, said to Winnie, "Very good, it seems the CIA also felt your pain, Berent, right? Don't rush, you can feel it slowly—compared to the pain you inflict on others, this pain is nothing."

Winnie's expression was complicated, but she still noticed Milton's actions and asked, "What are you writing?"

Milton bowed his head to sign and began to speak:
"Someone, take a picture."

"This guy is from the CIA, right?"

“I don’t know what he’s doing here, but looking around, looking at the helicopter, looking at all these things on the ground… I guess none of them went through the proper registration process, and they probably didn’t pay any taxes for me, right?”

"I mailed the list of items, photographic evidence, and overdue payment notice to Eric, the CIA agent who contacted me first."

"The CIA has to pay taxes on my turf."

Milton tossed the form over... Well, since he'd already spat, he might as well take another dump.

(End of this chapter)