"Last two grenades!" Brock Reynolds shouted from the second floor, his voice cutting through the chaos as he fired off the final two rounds in his 40mm launcher.
The explosions were deafening. The half-height decorative wall and the small iron gate at the front of the church crumbled instantly, reduced to rubble. A row of cartel gunmen who had been taking cover behind it were caught in the blast—most killed outright, while the rest lay writhing and bleeding out.
Jack seized the opportunity, leaning out to unload the remaining rounds in his magazine, ensuring none of the injured gunmen would survive. But his daring move immediately drew fire from several assault rifles. Bullets riddled the window frame, forcing Jack to pull back as shards of wood and stone flew around him.
The windows were no longer defensible. The enemy's numbers had grown too overwhelming, with four or five rifles focused on every shooting position. It was impossible to peek out without being instantly pinned down.
Reloading his rifle, Jack hurled his last smoke grenade out the window and quickly retreated with Clay to the columns in the chapel, their designated second defensive line.
"Bravo Team, QRF will be on site in five minutes. Hold the line!" The message from Command crackled over their comms.
No one had the bandwidth to respond. As soon as Jack and Clay fell back, several flashbangs were lobbed through the shattered windows. The cartel's equipment was surprisingly robust—they were better armed than expected.
The SEALs' advanced gear proved invaluable at this moment. Their noise-dampening headsets effectively neutralized the disorienting concussions of the flashbangs. With quick reflexes, they averted their eyes from the blinding flashes, avoiding serious impairment.
Amidst the cacophony of explosions, enemy fighters surged toward the church's double doors, now barely held together. Jason, ignoring the tightness in his chest from exertion, bellowed, "Sonny!"
"Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat!" Sonny answered with the roar of his MK46 Mod 1 light machine gun. Holding the weapon Rambo-style, he unleashed a torrent of bullets at the door. A 200-round belt was expended in seconds, transforming the entrance into a deadly kill zone.
The onslaught brought the enemy advance to a halt. Four or five cartel fighters who had reached the steps of the church were cut down instantly, their bodies collapsing in bloody heaps. The rest scrambled to retreat, dragging their wounded away.
With the second-floor windows abandoned, the battle dynamics shifted. The SEALs held their positions inside the chapel, each soldier watching their designated sector. Occasionally, a cartel fighter would poke their head out from cover or blindly fire into the church. But any attempt to push forward was met with the SEALs' deadly accuracy.
The fight devolved into a brutal stalemate. Cartel forces surrounded the church, making any attempt by the SEALs to break out nearly impossible. Conversely, the church itself had proven a formidable fortress—its entrance and windows were now graveyards for nearly 30 bodies. For every SEAL inside, there were three dead outside.
Jack considered proposing they retreat further into the church to lure more enemies inside for a counterattack, but his thoughts were interrupted by the unmistakable boom of heavy machine gun fire.
The M2 Browning "Ma Deuce"—its distinct, muffled roar—signaled the arrival of reinforcements. Outside, chaos erupted. The sound of gunfire grew louder, mixed with panicked Spanish shouts. The SEALs held their positions, listening as the battle raged on. Within two or three minutes, the gunfire tapered off, leaving only eerie silence.
Inside the church, no one moved. The tension was palpable, the quiet so intense it seemed even a dropped pin would echo. Weapons remained trained on every potential entry point, eyes scanning for movement.
Finally, their comms buzzed to life, and a familiar voice called out from the other side of the ruined doors.
"Bravo 1, this is Command. Requesting entry."
Jason smirked. "Passphrase?"
"Your big rashy ass, you idiot! Now open the door, or you're walking home!" Major Blackburn retorted, his tone exasperated but laced with relief.
Sonny and Clay moved quickly, dragging the barricaded pews away from the door. The battered double doors fell forward with a loud crash, kicking up a cloud of dust.
Through the haze stepped Major Blackburn and Lieutenant Lopez, flanked by a squad of soot-covered Mexican Marines. Both commanders were grimy, their faces streaked with dirt and gunpowder. Some of the Marines bore minor injuries, but they had made it.
"Looks like we got here just in time," Blackburn remarked, visibly relieved as he scanned the room. Aside from Brock's bandaged leg and Sonny's wrapped arm, everyone was intact. He bumped fists with Jason.
"Where's the colonel? What happened to Martinez?" Lopez asked urgently. His eyes darted around, welling with emotion when he didn't see his commanding officer. Grabbing Jack by the shoulders, he demanded answers.
"He took a bullet. He's upstairs in the priest's bedroom. He's stable but won't be going anywhere for a while," Jack explained, pointing toward the stairs. Without another word, Lopez motioned for two Marines to follow him. They rushed upstairs like a whirlwind.
"What about Rasso?" Blackburn asked, his relief tempered by the need for answers.
"Dead," Jack replied with a shrug. "But we got the intel. We know where Doza's safe house is. Now it's time for the final step."
"That final step involves putting a bullet in Doza's head," Lopez growled as he reappeared, helping the weak but conscious Colonel Martinez down the stairs.
"Pack up. We're leaving. This mission isn't over yet," Jason ordered, clapping a hand on Brock's shoulder. "You good to keep going?"
"I'll manage," Brock grumbled, though his face was pale.
Jack glanced around the church, a sudden thought striking him. "Wait… the priest. Damn it, I hope he's okay."
"Watch your language. Can't you guys keep it respectful in here for once?" Ray Perry scolded as he emerged from the confessional, supporting the priest.
"Sorry, Father," Jason said apologetically, surveying the wrecked interior of the church. Bullet holes riddled the walls, shattered glass littered the floor, and the once-pristine pews were splintered and charred. "Looks like your church could use some renovations."
"It's fine," the priest replied, crossing himself. "This place was meant to be a sanctuary. I'm sure the Vatican won't mind footing the bill for repairs."
"We should bring him with us," Jack suggested. "If we leave him here, the cartel might come back for revenge."
Everyone agreed. The priest, looking tired but resolute, nodded his assent.
The assault on Doza's safe house was scheduled for three hours later, at 4 a.m. After returning to their base, Bravo Team had two hours to rest and prepare.
The operations center at the base buzzed with activity. Lisa Davis had completed a detailed drone reconnaissance of the target site. While Jason and the team pored over plans for the assault, Jack took a detour to the interrogation room.
Inside, Mandy Ellis and Rita Alfaro sat across from each other, locked in a silent standoff. They stared at one another, neither saying a word. The tension in the room was palpable, and Jack couldn't help but smirk as he entered. "Well, this is cozy."
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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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