Taxes are only within machine gun range!

Chapter 52 March
After donning heavy bulletproof vests, putting on helmets, and checking their equipment, the four split into two groups and drove out of the garage.

Boom boom...

Two large-displacement SUVs drove out of the garage, onto the main road, and headed towards the checkpoint.

Flora, sitting in the passenger seat, suddenly asked cheekily, "Are we waiting for the traffic light?"

Milton rolled his eyes: "Wait my ass, I think it would need electricity to wait."

"Wait a minute..." Flora in the passenger seat suddenly stopped smiling and leaned forward. "Isn't there something hanging on the traffic light? Why is it swaying?"

"Um?!"

As the car drew closer, Milton was able to make out the swaying dark shapes with the help of the high beams.

Those were several mutilated corpses.

Two of the faces were ones Milton had seen not long ago—the wife and daughter of the sheriff whose head had been blown off.

The wounds on their bodies and the lingering pain in their unfocused pupils were enough to illustrate the treatment they had received before their deaths.

Silence fell over the carriage.

Flora stared silently ahead for a while before saying, "They're warning you, no, they're warning us."

“This isn’t a warning, it’s a harbinger.” Milton composed himself. “Pedro, Varta, Raul… and his cronies are spreading terror to us.”

Flora crossed her legs, gently stroking the brand-new M4A1 with her fingers, and asked, "Aren't you scared?"

“Harming women and children doesn’t scare me,” Milton said calmly. “What’s wrong? Are you scared?”

“What am I afraid of? I’m just afraid that once you take control of the entire town’s tax system, you’ll kick us aside.” Flora flicked the butt of her gun. “Besides, we used to be NATO, you know? NATO is the one who should be afraid.”

Tsk, the true face of imperialism.

But I have to say, it felt pretty good when they were on my side.

Milton floored the gas pedal: "You're right. They're the ones who should be afraid, especially after today."

Half an hour later, when they were still two kilometers away from the checkpoint, Milton pulled over and parked in the woods.

The car was too loud and too conspicuous to avoid the searchlights of the checkpoint tower.

It's best to walk the rest of the way.

Without any further ado, the four quickly unloaded the equipment.

Milton continued issuing orders: "I'll take the M24, 'Bottle' will carry the mortar, and the other two will carry the ammunition and PKM. Double-check the radios and equipment."

"Correct."

"Correct."

Milton secured his noise-canceling headphones: "Very good, let's go. I'll lead the way, 'Bottle' will bring up the rear."

"Roger that!"

"..."

The four men immediately moved quickly toward the checkpoint.

The complex and rugged jungle environment, coupled with the heavy load, caused the four people, who had not rested all day, to feel exhausted after walking only a few hundred meters.

But no one spoke up, and no one fell behind; everyone followed the group in silence.

After trekking for more than ten minutes, Milton finally saw the familiar checkpoint ahead. "'Bottle' and 'Poison' set up and tested the cannons, while 'Anvil' and I scouted the enemy."

Milton found a slightly flatter, reverse slope, put on his night vision goggles, turned the magnification to the maximum, and began a simple reconnaissance of the checkpoint.

The "Anvil," responsible for fire support, did the same.

It's only about 300 meters from the checkpoint, but under the cover of night, it can barely serve as a support position.

Two or three minutes later, Milton spoke up: "The defenses inside the checkpoint are very lax; there's only one person on each of the two watchtowers; there are only three enemies patrolling near the three advantageous bunkers we need to capture; the enemies near the warehouse appear to be resting. Our capture truck is in the garage behind the warehouse; be careful to avoid it when firing."

It must be said that the people responsible for guarding the checkpoint were almost entirely unprofessional, and even the layout of the checkpoint was poorly designed.

The entire checkpoint had only two visible sentry posts that could not provide cover for each other; there were no hidden sentry posts.

The sentry on the watchtower was drowsy, holding an M2 heavy machine gun that was only good for intimidation; the patrolling gunmen had no sense of cover at all, wandering around aimlessly like headless flies, as if afraid that the enemy would not be able to wipe them out in one fell swoop.

Inside the checkpoint, all the important buildings, including the outpost and the stationmaster's office, were brightly lit. Milton even felt that he had brought the night vision goggles for nothing.

"They're so damn weak. I think even if there were 20 of them, we could take them all out without a scratch."

From behind, Flora's slightly hoarse voice came: "The mortars are set up, the machine gun positions are set up, and I am ready."

Milton nodded slightly: "We'll sneak up to the vicinity of the checkpoint entrance from the flank. After 'Anvil' snipes the sentry, we'll immediately make a dynamic incursion and seize the first housing area. That's where Varta's cronies are staying. Varta took a lot of people with him, so there won't be many left inside."

"'Anvil' is responsible for fire support and providing intelligence."

"I'll be the vanguard, and the 'bottle' will bring up the rear. Let's go!"

During dynamic assaults, the order of the scout and the rearguard alternates—after Milton clears a room as the scout, Flora will break through the next room as the scout, while Milton will cover the rear, and so on, until all enemies are eliminated.

Flora patted Milton on the shoulder and then moved to the very end of the line: "'Bottle' received."

Milton checked the 81 bar in his hand one last time, then led his three-man team to the wall of the checkpoint, slowly moving towards the gate.

The searchlight on the watchtower shone directly onto the road, completely unaware that the enemy had gotten so close.

As soon as I stood still, the sound of an anvil came through the walkie-talkie.

"The sniper position is ready. I'm waiting for the enemy patrol team to expose their flanks. After I fire, the enemy patrol team will probably be at the third checkpoint on the right side of the gate, at the 15 o'clock position, with no cover to enter."

Milton's heart involuntarily quickened: "Received."

At that moment, his noise-canceling headphones picked up three chaotic footsteps coming from the left.

And several drunken voices.

"That son of a bitch Varta... she went out for a fancy meal and didn't even take us with her."

"Heh heh, you know what? I saw him secretly take a lot of money and hide it in his room. He always pretends to be so honest and upright, pshaw..."

"Burp! Who cares, let's drink!"

"..."

The sounds of talking and footsteps gradually faded away on the right.

Suddenly, the sound of a wooden plank being pierced came from the watchtower above Milton's head, accompanied by the sight of half of the sentry's head disappearing.

Half a second later, the sound of the M24 being silenced, like a stapler, came from the hillside!
The "anvil" fired.

Milton leaned to the side and pulled out his gun line at almost the same time!
Urban rebirth romance novel, making up for life's regrets.

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(End of this chapter)