"Once you get downstairs, pass along my regards to the guy down below," Jack muttered, more to himself than Rasso. He wasn't particularly acquainted with the God upstairs, but he'd sent enough damned souls to Lucifer, the Morning Star, to consider him something of an old acquaintance. He'd lost track of how many irredeemable sinners he'd delivered to Hell's gatekeeper.
With that, Jack removed the crucifix he had been pressing against Rasso's wound and casually tossed it back onto the bedside table. Before the stunned man could react, Jack clamped one hand over his mouth and nose and pressed his other hand firmly against his carotid artery.
Already gravely injured and barely clinging to life, Rasso stood no chance. Within seconds, his struggles ceased, and his breathing stopped.
Jack didn't even bother closing the man's lifeless, glassy eyes. He grabbed a cloth, draped it over Rasso's face, and headed for the door. Opening it, he guided Colonel Martinez inside and helped him into a chair. Then, over the team's comms, Jack announced:
"Attention, everyone. This is Bravo 7. Interrogation complete. Doza may be hiding in a warehouse at the end of the Candela railway."
"Nice work, miracle worker!" Jason's voice crackled with excitement over the channel. He hadn't expected the FBI guy to extract intel so quickly. He didn't even bother asking whether Rasso was still alive. "Command, did you hear that? Forward this to Intel and have them send someone to recon the area!"
"Command received," came Lisa Davis's calm yet slightly excited response. Her composed tone couldn't completely mask her relief.
Descending to the first floor, Jack noticed the priest, who was supposed to be in hiding, kneeling before the chapel's crucifix in prayer. The SEALs, meanwhile, were positioned behind the church's sturdy columns, weapons at the ready, their eyes trained on the wooden double doors.
The priest's voice echoed through the chapel as he prayed:
"Almighty and eternal God, go with these men. Forgive them for all they do, and grant them the protection of your eternal grace. May your shield guard them from harm and evil. By the power of your love, bring them safely home to their loved ones. May they praise your compassionate care, for this is my humble prayer."
Though not all of the SEALs were devout believers, the atmosphere in the church turned solemn. Faces hardened with resolve as if the prayer had imbued them with an invisible strength, a sort of divine "buff" to fortify their spirits.
Jack observed the scene and couldn't help but reflect on his own actions. The irony of what he had done upstairs—arguably sacrilegious—contrasted starkly with the reverence in the room. The thought brought a faint smirk to his face, and an old melody from his memory surfaced: "Il n'est pas de sauveurs suprêmes: Ni Dieu, ni César, ni Tribun." ("There are no supreme saviors: neither God, nor Caesar, nor tribune.")
"Father, please come with me." The priest's final "Amen" had barely left his lips before Ray Perry stepped forward, gently helping him up and leading him to a room at the back of the chapel.
"How's the situation?" Jack whispered to Jason as he joined him by the door.
"There are three hostiles outside the main entrance. They'll be coming in to check shortly. We're planning to let them enter and take them out silently," Jason said, nodding toward the doors.
"Why not just kill the lights in the church? We'd have the advantage with night vision," Sonny suggested from his position behind another column. Jason had called him back from the bell tower, leaving Brock up there as the lone lookout. Sonny's machine gun was crucial for locking down the entrance once fighting broke out.
"The church is supposed to be open 24/7. Pitch-black darkness would raise suspicion," Ray Perry retorted as he returned from hiding the priest in the confessional. He shot Sonny an annoyed look, clearly exasperated by his lack of common sense.
With everyone in position, Jack drew his FK7.5 pistol and attached a suppressor. Even silenced, gunfire from a rifle would carry further than they wanted in the quiet night.
But luck wasn't on their side. Outside, the three armed men discussed something in Spanish. One stayed on the far side of the street, lighting a cigarette, while the other two pushed open the small iron gate, the creaking sound cutting through the stillness.
As the voices outside grew louder, Jack signaled to Jason that he would handle it.
Creak.
The wooden doors opened. Two gunmen holding AKs stepped cautiously inside, visibly unnerved by the solemn atmosphere of the church. Despite their mission, both instinctively made the sign of the cross over their chests as they entered.
Pfft. Pfft. Pfft. Pfft. Four suppressed shots rang out in rapid succession—one to the chest, one to the head for each target. The two men collapsed to the floor almost simultaneously. Ray Perry quickly stepped forward, nudging the door shut with his foot.
"Bravo 1, the third hostile doesn't seem to have noticed," Brock reported from his perch in the bell tower.
Jack and Ray each grabbed a body, dragging them out of sight. Red and white streaks of blood smeared the floor behind them.
"Understood. Hold position. Let's see if he comes in," Jason replied over comms.
Though the fight was inevitable, dragging it out worked in their favor. Every second bought more time for the QRF to arrive. Jack crouched by a small street-facing window near the door, peeking outside. Across the street, the third gunman's cigarette glowed faintly in the dark. Jack wished he could hand the man a cigar, just to buy them a few more minutes.
Blackburn had just sent word over comms: the QRF was 15 minutes out. Holding the church was less than ideal. With the intel secured, retreating via side streets to link up with reinforcements seemed like the smarter move.
But the labyrinthine layout of Iztapaluca's slums made that risky. The buildings provided plenty of cover, and the drone overhead couldn't guarantee they'd avoid enemy patrols. If a gunfight broke out mid-escape, the SEALs could easily find themselves surrounded in unfamiliar, disadvantageous terrain.
Additionally, Martinez was still in no condition to move. Jack's healing abilities were good, but even he couldn't risk pushing the colonel into action. If Martinez's wound reopened, their mission could turn into an emergency VIP extraction back to Washington.
The choice was clear: stay and fight.
As if to confirm their predicament, the lone gunman across the street grew impatient. After finishing his cigarette, he shouted toward the church in Spanish. When no one answered, he pulled out his phone.
Bang! A single, silenced shot from Brock in the bell tower ended the man's life. His body crumpled to the ground, but the phone in his hand had already connected. On the other end, someone now knew something was wrong.
Within minutes, the hum of engines broke the silence. Soon after, a pickup truck carrying five or six gunmen appeared on the street outside the church.
"They're here. About ten… wait… fifteen men," Brock reported, cutting himself off as a second truck pulled up behind the first.
"Bravo 1, what's going on? We're tracking over a hundred hostiles converging on your location!" Lisa Davis's voice came through the comms, concern evident even in her normally steady tone.
"We've been compromised. Notify the major to move faster," Jason said, then gave the order. "Brock, light it up. Let's give our reinforcements a beacon."
The sound of thoomps echoed through the air as several 40mm grenades exploded on the road, engulfing the first two trucks in flames. The vehicles were reduced to burning wreckage, the gunmen inside killed instantly. A few survivors, missing limbs, lay on the road, screaming in agony.
Seizing the moment, Ray Perry, Sonny, and Clay dragged the church's sturdy pews and piled them against the main doors, creating a makeshift barricade.
Minutes later, the night erupted into chaos. Engines roared, brakes screeched, glass shattered, and tires skidded against the asphalt. Gunfire rang out as Spanish voices shouted commands. The peaceful church was now a warzone.
"Watch your ammo! Make every shot count!" Jason barked over the cacophony.
The church's small size became a disadvantage. With only five windows across the first floor, second floor, and bell tower combined, their ability to return fire was limited.
Brock was quickly forced out of the bell tower under heavy fire. The wooden structure was no match for the penetrating power of AK rounds, and his leg was shredded by splinters. After being bandaged, he was reassigned to guard the rear exit while the others held the remaining shooting positions.
"RPG!" Jack shouted as two heads appeared above the outer wall, each carrying an RPG launcher. He took out one with a clean shot, but the other fired just as Clay dropped him.
The rocket slammed into the wooden doors, sending splinters flying. The doors held, but just barely, propped up only by the pews behind them. Inside, the SEALs ducked for cover as debris rained down.
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Fairy Tail: Igneel's Eldest Son (Chapter 256)
I Am Thalos, Odin's Older Brother (Chapter 336)
Reborn in America's Anti-Terror Unit (Chapter 542)
Solomon in Marvel (Chapter 924)
Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1284)
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1289)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
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