Taxes are only within machine gun range!

Chapter 253 Milton, he has no martial ethics
Tustra Gutiérrez.

Inside the Chiapas state government building, Bader sat in the governor's office, his desk adorned with various ornaments made of precious metals and gemstones.

It has to be said that these high-ranking officials and members of parliament have quite a lot of good stuff in their homes.

“Half the people dying isn’t all bad; at least there are fewer people to divide the money, so I can get a bigger share.” Bader shook a bottle of what was supposedly British black tea, then looked at the orange-red liquid in the glass next to him, took a sip, and said, “Not bad, it’s definitely good stuff…”

As the general was enjoying his tea, the door to the governor's office was pushed open, and his chief of staff strode in triumphantly—a gold necklace around his neck and rings on seven of his ten fingers.

He looks like a super nouveau riche.

"General, good news!"

"What good news?" Badr glanced at the chief of staff with disdain, waved his hand and asked, "By the way, when you get back, I suggest you find a few fashion magazines and take a look at how real rich people dress themselves. Your outfit is really awful."

"Ahem..." The chief of staff skipped the topic, "I just saw the news, Coca-Cola has once again lodged a strong protest against Milton, hahaha!"

"Oh?" Bader was intrigued. "I remember Vic gave a televised speech before, and someone from Coca-Cola came out to refute it then. What's going on this time?"

"The news didn't mention the specifics, but basically the two sides negotiated. Coca-Cola said Milton was too arrogant, didn't understand economics enough, and was damaging the free market and the business environment, etc..." The chief of staff laughed. "It seems that the negotiations between the two sides have completely collapsed."

"How could negotiations break down like this?" Bader, now an outsider, commented from a spectator's perspective. "Milton just wants money, right? If it were me, I would have given it to him directly. Honestly, Coca-Cola will hardly get such a good reservoir and such monopolistic preferential conditions again in the future. Making appropriate concessions is reasonable."

"And look at Coca-Cola's response. To put it nicely, it's a rebuttal or a protest; to put it bluntly, it's cowardice. How weak are their words?"

The chief of staff continued, "Vic's response was very strong, basically a direct insult, implying that he would send troops to fight."

“Vic also said something about us, but it was all about ‘strong condemnation’ and ‘demanding withdrawal’, which was completely different from his usual attitude of wanting to stand on our shoulders to shit.”

Bader tapped the table, pondered for a moment, and gave his opinion: "We still have 1500 men, and our fighting strength is still intact. Milton defeated us last time by hiding his self-propelled artillery. In a real head-on confrontation, his losses will be great."

“If it were me, I would take down the weaker Concordia first, rather than fighting Tustra, which has a full 1500 regular troops, has been almost completely plundered, and has no important strategic resources.”

The chief of staff asked with some curiosity, "Isn't Milton afraid of retaliation from the United States for taking direct military action against American companies in Latin America?"

“Milton is a madman. Don’t try to understand him with normal thinking.” Bader sneered. “Let me give you an example… Have you noticed that Milton has taken over so much territory, killed so many drug dealers, and seized so much cash, yet he shows no sign of enjoying it?”

"No houses, cars, yachts, private jets... none of them. He uses any spare money to buy cannons, travels in armored vehicles, and flies in military planes. You know how uncomfortable those things are."

"You say he's a good person? Look at his behavior, look at his methods—he can even do things like crashing planes into buildings and framing the enemy. How can he be a good person?"

"No matter how powerful a madman is, he will eventually destroy himself in his madness. I can't wait to see him mess with Coca-Cola and suffer a terrible fate! I'll sit here and watch Milton fall from his peak!"

The chief of staff nodded: "General, what should we do next?"

“Hmm… we’ve pretty much plundered Tustra,” Bader said. “Let’s pack our things and head to Jalisco to meet up with CJNG. We’re leaving tomorrow. Can we do that?”

"Uh, set off tomorrow? Or how about the day after tomorrow?" The chief of staff had just returned and knew all too well what kind of troops this unit was after its recent defeat. "The brothers have taken a lot of stuff, some even brought women, so it won't be quick for them to assemble."

After a humiliating defeat, the soldiers of the entire 31st Brigade went somewhat mad, venting their emotions and violence on civilians, as if doing so would prove their strength.

“Then let’s do it the day after tomorrow. Don’t waste time.” Bader frowned. “Who knows how fast Milton’s offensive can go? What if they take Concordia tomorrow and march on Tustra? How are we going to run with all that stuff? Wouldn’t we just be doing Milton’s work for free?”

"Hmm... I'll go give the order." The chief of staff glanced at the numerous rings on his finger, nodded, and smiled. "By the way, I heard that when you get to a drug cartel, every leader has their own nickname. General, what nickname do you plan to use?"

Without a second thought, Badr declared, "Let's call him 'General'!"

The 31st Brigade's announcement of its defection sparked a massive uproar in Mexico.

First and foremost, President Salinas declared a state of emergency, thus extending his own political life.

But this rebel group now faces immense pressure as well – Mexican law stipulates that any armed force that breaks away from the national command structure or colludes with criminal organizations is guilty of treason.

Soldiers who participate in the mutiny will be stripped of their rank, citizenship, and may even face the death penalty!
The 31st Brigade was disbanded, and its nature was no different from that of various cartels. It was an armed force that needed to be directly suppressed by other Mexican troops who were still loyal.

Salinas immediately offered bounties to everyone in the entire 31st Brigade!
Of course, the attitude has been expressed, but in reality, Bader, far away in Chiapas, as long as he successfully merges with CJNG, all those seemingly terrifying punishments will be nothing more than empty gestures.

The reason remains simple: the Mexican military is plagued by widespread and systemic corruption and has deep ties with drug traffickers—CJNG being a prime example.

In the end, suppression always turns into "our own people fighting each other," which inevitably leads to nothing.

So now that Bader is certain that Milton won't cause him any more trouble in the short term, he's completely adopting a wait-and-see attitude.

So what if they betrayed us?

He's become the head of a drug cartel, and he might even make it onto the Forbes rich list in the future!
"Let's pack our things. Given Milton's actions, we might have another chance to meet him in the future... Heh, I'm looking forward to that day."

After saying that, Bader got up, took a bottle of Coca-Cola from the refrigerator, and waved for his men to help him pack up.

He went up to the balcony of the government building and looked down at the city view of Tustra.

It's described as a scenic spot, but in reality, all you see are either troops guarding the area, or ruins shrouded in smoke and civilians struggling on the streets.

"It's so beautiful. Such a beautiful view should be reserved for Milton to enjoy soon... I wonder what he would think if he found out that he came to this city and couldn't get any money out of it, and even had to put his own money in to avoid a famine?"

"Will you be so angry you want to pounce on me the next time you see me?"

As Badr thought this, the frustration he felt as a defeated opponent of Milton was instantly relieved.

Just then, a small piece with a red tracer suddenly broke through the clouds in front of him, and fell to the ground at an extremely fast speed, leaving a shock trail in its wake!

Ahead, in another rebel camp, fires broke out, and thick smoke quickly enveloped the area!
Three seconds later, Badr heard a voice that was all too familiar to him... It was the voice he had heard in his command post not long ago!

It almost cost me my life!
Almost without thinking, Badr, nearly scared to tears, turned and ran, sprinting towards the basement.

Upon arriving in the basement, Bader sprinted towards the backup radio.

Having been a general with experience in several battles, Badr's mind worked very quickly, and he immediately understood why he had been attacked.

All those assertive declarations against Coca-Cola, all those strategic considerations regarding reservoir resources, all those displays of weakness towards the rebels—it's all fake, all an act!
"Damn it, Milton, you bastard, you inhuman beast!!!"

"He's ambushed me again, he's fucking attacked me again!"

"Didn't you say you were going to get Coca-Cola? Does having a bottle of Coca-Cola in my hand count as Coca-Cola?!"

"Do you dare to fight me fair and square, just once? Do you dare?!"

"Pass on my order! Pass on my order! Everyone, evacuate immediately after this round of shelling ends! Evacuate immediately! Anyone who doesn't want to die, anyone who doesn't want to work at the Milton Museum, drop everything you're holding and evacuate immediately!"

"Milton is here! Milton is here!"

"Run!"

"..."

The order was given as soon as it was issued to Badr's personal guards who were stationed at the state government building.

They heard the explosion earlier, but most people don't have the habit of looking up at the sky, so they assumed it was just a gas explosion in someone's house and no one took it seriously.

It wasn't until they received orders that some soldiers realized the explosion wasn't a gas explosion... but an artillery shell!

Milton's previous relentless, free bombardment had already inflicted severe psychological trauma on the rebels!

A soldier instinctively looked up and saw a shell trailing a tracer, almost motionless in his field of vision.

Anyone who has been on the battlefield knows that if you can see the trajectory of a missile or artillery shell when you look up, there's not much of a problem, and you can prepare to mourn for some unfortunate comrade... But if the missile or artillery shell is not moving much in your field of vision, moves very slowly, or is simply stationary, then there is only one possibility.

It wasn't that a soldier had superpowers to stop the shell; rather, the shell was aimed directly at him!

boom!
A supersonic shell hurtled right at my face, landing and exploding in front of the state government building.

The fire and smoke completely engulfed the entire garrison.

After the smoke cleared, all that remained was a huge crater and shattered ground... The soldiers outside the blast site groaned in pain, coughing and spitting out lots of black powder.

These powders are not dust, but carbon powder formed from the remains of their comrades.

Rifle bullets are brutal to humans, machine gun bullets are R-rated, but when large-caliber howitzers fire, the scene is actually less gory.

Because at the moment of the explosion, the high temperature and strong shock wave shattered all the tissues of carbon-based organisms near the explosion center, grinding them into powder and burning them into charcoal.

Badr’s personal guards lost nearly half of their number in this round of shelling!

Hearing the thunderous roar of cannons, Badr felt a chill run down his spine.

Given the actions of the 31st Brigade in Tustra, it would have been impossible to organize urban warfare—the prerequisite for urban warfare is that the local area must be under the control of the army, or have strong support for the army.

An army of 1500 men can burn, kill, and loot without anyone stopping them, but if they want to fight in the streets... well, sorry, they'll be the ones getting the street fighting.

Surrounded by Milton's tank attack, and with local Tustra citizens everywhere who could potentially snipe him, and his men in a frenzy of fighting, unable to organize themselves quickly, Badr might end up leaving with only a few dozen of his core men if the situation is allowed to deteriorate.

Milton did not surround himself, nor did he send special forces to assassinate him. A general who is determined to escape is very difficult to catch.

Aside from the extremely unfortunate case of General Walker, who was killed in the Korean War by a friendly truck, the death of a high-ranking general is generally a major event.

But Badr's biggest problem now is that if he runs away like this, even if he manages to escape to Jalisco and join the CJNG, he will at best become an ordinary leader.

The nickname "General" only invites ridicule.

In any case, we need to gather at least 200 people to escape in order to maintain a certain degree of influence!
Bader suddenly gritted his teeth and dialed a number using a dedicated line.

Soon, a strange voice came from the other end: "Badr... Heh, you actually dare to call me? Aren't you afraid I'll betray you and exchange you for a bounty in Salinas? There are quite a few people who are counting on you to make a fortune."

Bader responded coldly, "Everyone knows Salinas is only temporarily in the presidency to buy himself time to escape... Once the new government comes to power, will this bounty still stand? How many of the bounties your CIA has actually paid out? Surely no one actually believes in such a naive thing as bounties?"

"Hahaha... alright." The CIA agent chuckled. "So, Mr. Bader, the former commander of the 31st Brigade who has already defected, what brings you here? If I'm not mistaken, quite a few shells are already raining down on your men, aren't they? Why aren't you running for your lives?"

"You and MPRI launched a sneak attack on the DEA that had just wiped out Julio, only to be wiped out in a three-on-one counterattack. Don't laugh at me, okay?" Badr retorted. "Milton may not know that you, who were severely injured, are still in Tustra and my troops are still resisting you ahead. Such a good opportunity for assassination, don't tell me you're not tempted."

Badr's words left the other person silent for a long while.

Yes, Bader's words really touched a nerve with the CIA.

The appearance of the MK-19 grenade launcher, which fired like a machine gun, instantly shattered all of the CIA's arrangements.

Many comrades who were drinking together the night before were bombed the next day, and their bodies could not even be found intact.

For these agents, Milton was no longer just a figure of grand narratives like "CIA disgrace," but an object of their deep hatred.

Even if Bader doesn't contact the CIA, the CIA will contact him soon enough.

The agent asked, "How long can your men hold off Milton on the front lines?"

Badr spoke frankly: "It won't take more than half a day... What, are you really planning to take action?"

“Let’s give it a try. Even if we fail, they won’t be able to catch up with us,” the CIA officer said confidently. “And the success rate is very high.”

“Oh? So confident? Milton is quite strong, you know,” Bader reminded him. “Your former colleagues, the so-called elite SAD, organized an assassination attempt against Milton, and they were all wiped out.”

“Milton is strong, but he’s just a Guatemalan,” the CIA agent said coldly. “He doesn’t know how far American technology has advanced—the U.S. already has the F-117, an aircraft that can completely disappear from radar, and fifth-generation fighter jets are about to be unveiled.”

"The CIA doesn't have the authority to use these things, but we also have a lot of tactical equipment, tactical equipment that Milton wouldn't even dare to dream of."

"Alright, just hold on for half a day. Even if Milton doesn't die, we're sure to achieve something this time."

Snapped!
After hanging up the phone, in a CIA safe house, the SAD team, equipped with advanced tactical gear, and the MPRI team, composed of former Navy SEALs, were ready to go.

Inside the room were a full six M224 60mm caliber man-portable mortars! These were also the mortar firepower most favored by Milton's army.

Weighing 20 kilograms, a true 12-person crew provides a company-level support firepower.

However, the mortar was simply placed in a corner here, while everyone treated it like a treasure. What was being treated like a treasure was a drone with a single wing structure, a wingspan of 2.7 meters, and a streamlined fuselage of only 1.8 meters!
“FQM-151, this thing is not easy to get.” A SAD squinted at the table. “Milton definitely doesn’t know we have this thing.”

"Hehe... Unlike Milton's bulky drone, ours is a man-portable drone, it's electric, and it only weighs 14 kilograms! It can even be manually launched!"

"Milton's is responsible for overall battlefield reconnaissance, while ours serves tactics; their roles are different. Hmm, it has an endurance of one hour and can perform reconnaissance missions within a 10-kilometer radius, which is sufficient."

A former Navy SEAL frowned and said, "The practicality of this drone has already been proven in the Gulf War, so I won't say anything... Actually, what I'm most worried about is this little thing, is it really as amazing as you guys say?"

"Could he really enable us to locate the enemy at the fastest speed, with almost no artillery reconnaissance, and directly calculate the firing data for us?"

He pointed to a small machine on the table.

“The individual digital assistant (PDA) integrates a backpack computer, fire control module, and tactical communications,” a CIA agent said proudly. “It’s still in the experimental stage, and it’s said that it will be several more years before it is widely deployed to the military… Of course, we are special forces, we are the CIA, so we can enjoy it ahead of time.”

"With this equipment, plus mortars, the operation to assassinate Milton or other high-ranking personnel will be much, much simpler."

"First, we use this miniature drone to locate Milton's position, or the position of senior officers. Then, we input the data into the PDA, and the firing parameters will be calculated immediately, allowing our mortars to fire!"

"We've practiced for so long, it's not a problem to shorten this process to less than a minute."

"With this, traditional artillery reconnaissance will be completely rendered obsolete! Our combat efficiency will far surpass Milton's 'primitive' army."

"Imagine, no matter how capable Milton is, could he have predicted that a shell would be landing on his head in a minute? No matter how capable he is, could he have imagined that such small drones would exist in this world? Could he have imagined that even without counter-battery radar, we could still lock onto him in seconds?"

Milton has drones, which can lock onto enemies just as quickly—but this "quickness" can't really be more than a few seconds. Moreover, without guided shells, relying solely on traditional artillery reconnaissance isn't very reliable in terms of accuracy, requiring several rounds of artillery fire for calibration.

More importantly, the number of people and the scale of equipment on both sides are simply not in the same league!

"His soldiers were very capable, and even grasped what 'informationized' warfare meant... But unfortunately, no matter how capable he was, he didn't know that the future of warfare would be 'digitalized'."

“He is a generation behind us. Let him see that even in the midst of a massive army, we can easily take the lives of their high-ranking officers and then escape.”

“Give Milton a good lesson… Hmm, remember, whether the mission succeeds or fails, evacuate immediately after two rounds of shelling.”

The entire squad was fully prepared, dressed in camouflage uniforms, and equipped with all their advanced gear. They left the safe house and began their advance towards Milton's attack direction.

Soon, the team arrived at their target location.

Only 8 kilometers from the front line!

"Alright, let's stop here." The leader, SAD, waved his hand. "'Hummingbird,' you launch the drone, the rest of you prepare to set up the cannons."

buzzing...

The FQM-151 "Pointer" micro-drone was thrown out by a SAD member, then steadily flew into the air, pulled up, and gradually exceeded the resolution limits of human vision...

(End of this chapter)