"This is Bravo 1. First floor secure. Bravo 3, what happened up there?" Jason asked over the comms, lowering his weapon.
"Lieutenant's fine—just got some dust in his eyes. He's rinsing it out. We've got one room left to clear. Give us two minutes," Sonny replied.
"Bravo 6, report your status," Jason continued, wasting no time as he addressed the team in the basement.
"This is Bravo 6. We've got a reinforced steel door with six locks. Preparing for breach," Clay Spencer reported.
"Copy that, on my way," Jason responded, heading for the basement. Jack and Deputy Team Leader Ray Perry followed closely.
In the basement, Bravo 5, Brock Reynolds, was already inspecting the steel door, setting C4 charges at its hinges. This delicate task wasn't something Jack was yet skilled at. A miscalculation with the charge's intensity could either fail to breach the door or cause collateral damage to those inside or outside.
Of course, if Jack wanted, he could burn some points to upgrade his skillset—something he'd considered since mastering other abilities during training. For now, though, he left it to Brock.
As Brock worked, sudden gunfire erupted from the second floor, cutting through the tense silence. Sonny's voice quickly came through the comms.
"All units, this is Bravo 3. HVT (High-Value Target) is escaping from the east side of the target building!"
A second later, the operations center confirmed the report via drone surveillance. "Bravo 3, we've identified an individual leaving the east side and moving north. Can you confirm it's González?"
"Affirmative, Ops Center. Both the lieutenant and I saw his face clearly as he jumped out the window," Sonny replied before switching channels. "Bravo 1, this is Bravo 3. Request permission to pursue González. Ops Center can guide us with ISR support to intercept him."
Jason denied the request immediately. "Negative, Bravo 3. Hold your position and wait for orders."
At the same time, Brock shouted, "Burning!"
Everyone instinctively lowered their heads to shield their eyes from dust and debris as the explosion rocked the basement. The confined space amplified the blast wave, though their high-quality noise-canceling headsets protected their hearing. The acrid smell of explosives filled their nostrils.
Jack, positioned to the right of the door, had already switched his HK416D rifle to his left hand, bracing it against his left shoulder. As the steel door wobbled on its hinges, he kicked it open with his boot. Moving swiftly, he entered the room with practiced CQB (Close Quarters Battle) precision.
His rifle's barrel scanned the room in a systematic arc: near right corner, far right corner, and finally straight ahead as he moved into the left corner.
Clay Spencer followed right behind, mirroring Jack's movements in reverse. Crossing paths without interference, their weapons covered all angles.
Jason and Ray Perry followed suit, each executing their entry with the same disciplined choreography. But as soon as they secured their positions, the scene before them made everyone pause, lowering their weapons in shock.
"Holy Mary, Mother of God!" Ray Perry muttered, breaking the silence with a curse.
The stench of blood and rot overpowered the lingering smell of explosives. The room was a slaughterhouse. Hanging from hooks meant for livestock were human bodies, not animals.
The walls, originally reinforced steel panels, were splattered with arterial blood, some dried into crusty patches, others still fresh and coagulating. The entire room screamed of horror and brutality. This was the same room shown in the video where González had tortured a DEA agent to death.
Jack and team medic Trent Sawyer quickly assessed the situation. Four bodies hung lifelessly from hooks driven through their collarbones. Beneath them, chained to the floor, were six others—four men and two women.
The survivors were barely clinging to life, their emaciated bodies covered in burns, scabs, and scars. Dressed in tattered scraps of fabric, they showed no reaction to the door breaching, save for faint groans. None even attempted to cry for help.
The operations center's call interrupted their grim assessment. Major Eric Blackburn's voice carried an edge of urgency.
"Bravo 1, this is Ops Center. We still have eyes on the HVT."
Upstairs, Sonny's impatience was clear. "Bravo 1, this is Bravo 3. González is about to slip away. Are you sure we shouldn't pursue?"
Jack, crouched by one of the injured, glanced up. "I can go up and assist."
Depro's layout was similar to Rio de Janeiro's favelas—densely packed, sprawling up a hill. If González reached the summit, the buildings would merge into a maze where even drones couldn't track him.
"Damn it," Jason muttered, looking at the gravely injured civilians. His hesitation was evident. "Hold your position, Bravo 3."
"What? Say again, Bravo 1," Sonny asked, incredulous.
Jason made his decision in seconds. "Negative, Bravo 3. Hold your ground. Be alert and await further instructions. We've found civilians in critical condition. We're exfiltrating them immediately."
Jack felt a wave of relief. While some might view this as overly idealistic, leaving these civilians to die wasn't something he could stomach.
"Copy that. Holding position," Sonny acknowledged reluctantly.
"What about González?" Clay Spencer asked, frowning.
"We'll get another shot," Jason replied, though his eyes sought confirmation from Ray Perry.
"No complaints here," Ray replied with a shrug. He never questioned Jason's commands in the field.
"Attention, all units. Begin sweep and prep for extraction. Bravo 3, gather any intel—phones, documents, anything useful. Leave no details unchecked," Jason ordered before turning to Sawyer and Jack. "You've got five minutes to stabilize and move them."
Sawyer and Jack exchanged a glance before pulling adrenaline injectors from their med kits.
"Half a dose each. Don't overdo it," Sawyer instructed.
Though Jack didn't use his healing skills, his medical expertise was on par with Sawyer's. The two worked swiftly, administering adrenaline to rouse the survivors. Their goal wasn't full recovery but enough mobility to evacuate.
Within five minutes, four male survivors regained enough strength to move on their own, except for an elderly man. The two women, with severe injuries, needed support but could walk with help.
Sawyer carried the elderly man, while the two Mexican operatives supported the women. Just as they exited the basement, Major Blackburn's voice came through again with grim news.
"Bravo 1, this is Ops Center. Approximately 20 armed hostiles are converging on your location. Immediate evacuation required."
"Copy that. Evacuating now," Jason confirmed.
As they exited the building, Jack and Clay Spencer opened fire, downing two armed gunmen on a nearby rooftop. Their suppressed shots dropped the enemies silently, but the commotion quickly escalated.
Frantic Spanish shouts rang out as a Molotov cocktail flew over the courtyard wall, igniting a fiery barrier.
Jack and Spencer split left and right, using the building's walls for cover. Switching their rifles to automatic, they laid down suppressive fire on the rooftops.
The rest of the team retreated back into the building. Jason, firing from the doorway, relayed updates.
"Ops Center, this is Bravo 1. We're engaged in heavy contact. Request immediate exfil."
"Copy, Bravo 1. Stand by," Ops Center replied, working on an evacuation plan.
Gunfire intensified, with voices shouting in Spanish as more Molotovs sailed into the courtyard. Hostiles popped up like whack-a-moles on rooftops, spraying rounds wildly.
In under three minutes, Jack and Spencer burned through two magazines each.
The comms buzzed with more bad news. "Bravo 1, the area around your building is too hot. Hostiles are converging from all sides. Extraction vehicles can't reach you. You'll need to move on foot to Rally Point 1. Armed pickups will meet you there."
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