With the earlier encounter still fresh in mind, Owen and his team moved far more cautiously, minimizing their exposure with every shot. However, casualties among the DEA agents began mounting quickly.
Within minutes, three more men had fallen. Patrick's bloodshot eyes reflected his anger and grief—those had been his men, solid fighters, and they were dropping fast.
"Fall back into the building! Retreat! Take your men and go—I'll cover you!"
After yet another RPG explosion left them covered in debris, Owen shouted at Patrick to pull back. The enemy was too strong, and their own ammo was running low. The most logical move was to abandon the outer defenses and fall back into the DEA headquarters, using it as their second defensive line.
Patrick didn't hesitate. The disparity in strength was obvious. His men were either wounded or dead—only Owen's Omega Team and Shepherd's Phantom Team could hold off the enemy now.
Patrick led his people in retreat, leaving the corpses behind but refusing to abandon any wounded. Owen and the others bought them time, holding the line.
A misfired RPG slammed into the rear of a pickup, and before the smoke cleared, the launcher was taken out by a shot from Fred. Weaver had repositioned and rejoined the sniping effort. Though they were few in number, Owen's side had no shortage of snipers. Anytime they spotted an enemy sniper, all three focused their fire and eliminated them instantly. Very few on the enemy side dared to expose themselves anymore.
However, that focus also made their own positions high-priority targets for RPG attacks. The snipers had to relocate after just a few shots to avoid getting blown away.
Even so, the situation continued to worsen. They were being squeezed.
Activating bullet time, Owen took aim and shot the hand of a thug mid-throw, causing the armed grenade to fall at his feet. The explosion tore through the group before they could react.
"Shepherd, fall back!"
When the timing was right, Owen gave the signal. Shepherd, Holt, and Bayev began retreating toward the parking lot, using the pickups as cover for return fire. Then it was Owen, Ghost, Heartbeat, and Ela's turn.
"Go!"
Firing as they moved, they turned and ran. But mid-sprint, Ela stumbled—she'd taken a round directly to her backplate. Heartbeat moved to help her, but took a grazing shot to the shoulder.
Damn it—they'd figured out their intentions. The enemy was trying to pin them down.
Owen glanced at both of them, then turned back, dropping to one knee. Rifle raised, he entered full bullet-time mode. Everything slowed. An RPG flew past, veering off its intended course—not his concern.
Owen lined up his shot.
The first target took a burst to the throat, blood bursting out in slow motion. Second shot—center mass. Third—shoulder. Fourth—eye socket.
For a brief moment, Owen became a reaper incarnate. His heightened reflexes and pinpoint accuracy stunned everyone. To outside observers, it was simply four enemies collapsing in the blink of an eye.
The battlefield froze. Owen had, single-handedly, stopped the advance.
He grabbed Ela and hauled her to her feet. With Shepherd's team covering them, they reached the building just in time. A few desperate cartel gunmen tried to shoot them in the back—each was picked off instantly by the sniper team.
No sooner had Owen and his team entered the building than Dorok Sánchez's men stormed the DEA headquarters. The building was surrounded. Gunfire erupted from all sides, and every pane of glass on the outer wall shattered.
"Fuck! The Marines aren't coming—they've been blocked! Dorok Sánchez sent a unit just to hold them off!"
Patrick threw his phone in frustration. Owen's squad heard the news the moment they entered. Faces inside the building darkened. This wasn't just a battle anymore—there were civilians inside too, and they were terrified.
THUMP-THUMP-THUMP
The sound of helicopter rotors filled the air. Someone moved toward the window to look outside. Before anyone could stop him, a sniper round pierced his skull.
"Stay away from the windows!"
Owen barked, seeing others still tempted to peek. He wasn't about to let curiosity get them killed.
"Patrick, open the armory. We need every weapon you've got."
"Shepherd, take your team to the roof. Everyone else, hold this floor with me."
"Understood."
Shepherd acknowledged and led Phantom Team to the rooftop after resupplying. They lacked anti-air weapons, but the rooftop had only one access point—easily defendable. If it came to it, they'd collapse the stairwell.
The DEA headquarters was a four-story office building. Owen positioned Patrick's remaining men on the first floor. Omega spread out across the second. All non-combatants were forced to the third.
Without contest, Owen had assumed full command. No one objected.
Omega Team members loaded up on magazines, grenades, and supplies. Bayev and Fred each hauled a crate of grenades and set up cache points every fifteen meters. They had no RPGs, but plenty of boom.
Before they could finish prepping, a fierce gun battle erupted upstairs—clearly, the cartel had tried to rappel onto the roof. Phantom Team engaged immediately.
Downstairs, the first and second floors were under simultaneous attack. Windows shattered. Plaster exploded. The building shook.
The attackers were many—both Dorok's elite troops and common foot soldiers. But the difference was obvious at a glance. Owen leaned out from cover, targeting the pros first.
A handful dropped under his fire, but a follow-up RPG slammed into his wall. Before the launcher could celebrate, a sniper round drilled into his left eye.
The chaos was overwhelming. One moment you were shooting, the next you were a corpse.
The explosion tore a massive hole in the wall. Owen was thrown back by the blast and lay dazed before crawling to his feet.
The battle had reached its peak.
From every window, Omega fighters fired nonstop. Cartel soldiers were dropping constantly—but they had dedicated RPG teams targeting every opening indiscriminately.
Bayev's machine gun roared. Fred had switched from sniper rifle to assault rifle—Swagg was enough as their sole sniper now. Ghost's expression was hidden behind his skull mask as he calmly fired shot after shot. When his mag emptied, he reloaded instantly.
A grenade flew from one window. As it detonated, several cartel troops tried to flee cover—Heartbeat was waiting and mowed them down in a single burst.
The defense had begun in earnest.
And there would be no retreat.
______
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