Bang bang bang~~~
Under Ela's sharp reflexes, the vehicle screeched to a halt. The car jolted as a Humvee behind rear-ended them. The windshield in front of the driver's seat was riddled with bullet impacts—thankfully, it was bulletproof. Despite how severe it looked, the rounds hadn't penetrated the reinforced glass.
"All units, be advised—DEA has opened fire on us. You are authorized to return fire. Watch your surroundings,"
Owen shouted into the radio as he kicked open his door and leaped out. Behind him, other Humvees followed suit, doors swinging open, agents disembarking under fire. Bullets clanged off the vehicle doors, the enemy using 5.7mm standard-issue rounds—not powerful enough to punch through the armor immediately, but sustained fire would eventually compromise it. They had to move.
Bang bang bang~~~
Omega returned fire. No one knew why the DEA had suddenly turned on them—but in combat, reasons became irrelevant the moment the shooting started.
Sustained fire pounded against the car door Owen used for cover. The side window he had rolled up was now shattered with spider-web cracks.
Most of the firepower was concentrated on Owen's side, giving Ela a chance to retaliate. She fired a few shots, but they clanged harmlessly off the machine gunner's armored shield—only sparks flew. However, her shots successfully drew the gunner's attention.
The gunner adjusted and raked his weapon across to Ela's position. A storm of bullets pelted her side of the Humvee.
Seeing this, Ela wisely ducked down behind the door, hunkering under the barrage of metal.
Chaotic gunfire erupted across the convoy. Omega and Phantom Squad responded in kind. The DEA outnumbered the Americans, but most of their heavy firepower—mounted machine guns—became immediate targets and couldn't enter the fight effectively. Many DEA agents were pinned in their vehicles.
Despite being outnumbered, Omega's tactical superiority and training allowed them to gain a temporary upper hand. Bullets zipped back and forth, DEA agents dropping one after another.
"Fuck! Owen, what the hell are you doing?! Cease fire immediately!"
Patrick's voice shouted through the comms, furious and panicked. But Owen ignored him for now, focused on the vibrations from the car door.
Then—the shaking stopped.
Bang bang
Taking advantage of the machine gunner's focus on Ela, Owen ducked low, popped out from the side, and fired a tight burst—he aimed low, avoiding the upper shield. His rounds slammed into the gunner's legs. As the man reeled in pain, Owen calmly finished him with two shots to the chest.
The gunner collapsed into the truck bed.
Owen instantly shifted to scan for other threats. The passenger in the front seat tried to exit—he flung the door open, only to be driven back by a short burst from Owen.
Omega and Phantom carefully advanced using cover, quickly surrounding the lead DEA pickup. The driver and front passenger saw the black muzzles pointed at them and wisely chose to surrender, hands raised, shouting something in Spanish.
Swag had already climbed atop a Humvee, setting up his sniper rifle. Weaver stayed to guard the captured DEA agents. Fredrick stood on tiptoe, peeking into the pickup bed—confirmed kill. Owen's rounds had struck a gap in the man's vest, tearing through his internals.
More DEA agents were spilling from other trucks, returning fire sporadically. But though they had the numbers, Owen's side had the skill. DEA agents kept getting hit, screaming and writhing on the pavement.
Despite the chaos, Owen didn't order any finishing shots. This whole confrontation stank of something off.
The area around the lead pickup was now secure. Omega couldn't understand Spanish, but once they saw the agents give up resistance, they followed standard rules of engagement—no lethal force unless necessary.
"Owen! What the hell is going on?! Call your men off—tell everyone to stop shooting!"
Patrick's voice still blared through the comms. Everyone heard him, but Omega took orders from Owen, not him. However, DEA firepower clearly weakened, and Owen's men began easing up their rate of fire as well.
From his vantage point, Owen saw Patrick approaching with raised hands, looking genuinely confused. He didn't seem to be faking.
Shepherd stepped in to cuff the two captured DEA agents, who kept shouting in Spanish. Owen couldn't understand, but Shepherd—who had operated in Mexico often—understood every word.
After securing the prisoners, Shepherd leaned close to Owen and relayed, "They said their brother—Jessman—was forced into this. The cartel just called him and said they had his wife and kids. If he didn't stop you guys, they'd be killed."
Owen frowned at the explanation. Ela had already told him that the gunner had mouthed something before firing—she had read it as "I'm sorry."
Hearing Shepherd's confirmation, Owen gave the order: "Cease fire."
The gunfire trickled to a stop.
Seeing the Americans lower their weapons, Patrick slowly raised his hands and walked forward.
"Owen, I'm coming over—don't shoot. This has to be a misunderstanding…"
He advanced cautiously. Owen waved a hand to signal his people to hold fire, then focused on Patrick—his vest held only a sidearm, arms still up.
"Owen, do you want me to call the U.S. base? Have them send backup?"
Silly Sweet's voice came through the earpiece. She'd been watching everything from the satellite feed and had clearly seen the firefight unfold.
"Not yet. Let's see what happens. Keep monitoring the area."
"Roger that."
Owen turned his attention back to Patrick.
Patrick stopped between the two factions, looking at Owen. "This is definitely a misunderstanding. We're on the same side—if this were planned, we would've struck during the Mario operation."
Standing there under the barrel of multiple rifles, with the corpse of a colleague just a few feet away, wasn't easy.
The two captured DEA agents were still yelling in Spanish. Patrick listened and then explained, "They said Jessman got a call ordering him to do this—or his family would be killed."
Jessman. That was the name of the now-dead machine gunner.
Owen's face darkened. "How did the cartel get his number? Was he in contact with them before?"
"I don't know. But I can assure you—it was his personal decision. It wasn't sanctioned by the DEA."
Patrick's eyes met Owen's. Around them, tense soldiers waited for the next move.
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