Chapter 109: Fire Ants
"Dom, what the hell are you doing?!" O'Connor, having just escaped the bombardment, was stunned by Dom's actions. "We barely made it out of there alive, and now you want to go back? There were at least thirty hostiles in that zone."
"How many you think are left now?" The Humvee skidded against a concrete barrier as Dom spun it around, pointing the nose back toward their escape route—now a blazing inferno.
O'Connor's jaw dropped. "Who did this? It's like goddamn Baghdad!"
His amazement was cut short when a surviving cartel gunman spotted them and opened fire. After just two shots, something dropped from the sky and took him out.
"BOOM!" The sicario was obliterated in a spray of gore, painting his nearby partner in crimson. A rib cage fragment buried itself in another man's chest—clearly DOA.
Up on the ridge, Hank adjusted his night-vision scope, exhaled slowly, and swiveled his weapon toward another cluster of targets.
Meanwhile, Ron, Arthur, and Gisele descended the hillside like angels of death, firing on the move. But as fast as they were moving, something else was moving faster.
A drone, buzzing like an angry hornet, swooped down behind a wrecked vehicle. "BOOM!"
The explosion sent body parts flying in all directions—enough scattered limbs to account for at least two people. Ron dove behind a boulder and grabbed his radio, wincing.
Up in the pickup on the hill, a freckled teenager felt a rush of adrenaline. This was way better than playing Call of Duty at home, and the pay didn't hurt either.
"Carl! Knock it off! Do you know how much these drones cost?! Blow up another one and you're working for free tonight!"
Hank's voice crackled over the comm. "I told you from day one—no minors on combat ops."
"Screw that!" the freckled kid shot back, pulling off his VR headset and glaring at Hank, who was crouched behind the truck's engine block.
"You copy that, Carl?" Ron's voice came through the radio again. Carl could only grit his teeth and respond, "Roger that, Boss."
He slipped the VR goggles back on as a larger drone—bigger than the one he'd just sacrificed—lifted off. Muzzle flash illuminated the hillside below, revealing the drone's mounted P90 submachine gun.
Under Carl's control, it descended from the opposite side of the valley and, with a controlled burst, cut down two narcos trying to make a run for it.
Ron was impressed once again by Howard's engineering skills. He'd barely sketched out the concept, and within 48 hours, Howard had mounted the submachine gun on the aircraft.
Aside from lacking an AI system for autonomous friend-or-foe identification, this attack drone was practically identical to the military UAVs Ron had encountered in his previous operations.
The tactical situation was now locked down: Ron, Arthur, and Gisele's assault team controlled three sides of the valley; Carl's combat drones dominated the airspace from another angle; and O'Connor and Dom's vehicle blocked the remaining escape route.
With Hank providing overwatch from the ridge with his grenade launcher, Ron's team had achieved total battlefield control.
Ron himself had only squeezed off three rounds, barely touching his first magazine, before emerging from cover and dropping three dealers with a precise triple-tap, then reloading.
The sole survivor from the entire drug operation was the crew leader Ron had deliberately spared—now kneeling in the center of the kill zone, looking absolutely wrecked.
He'd taken one round to the left shoulder and another to the arm, leaving his left side completely useless. Blood poured from the bullet wound in his right knee, and with the gut shot he'd sustained, he wouldn't last three hours without medical attention.
But Dom, oblivious to the tactical situation, had already kicked the man down and was working him over with his fists.
"Hey Dom, ease up! We still got work to do." Ron waited until Dom had gotten some of his rage out before pulling him back. The crew leader on the ground was beaten so badly his own mother wouldn't recognize him.
"Jesus! Ugly bastard! No wonder he's stuck in this dead-end line of work." Ron was startled by the man's mangled face and gave him another kick. "Hey, can you still talk?"
The man's throat only produced a wet, rasping sound.
Seeing this, Ron used his tactical knife to slice open one of the drug bags from Dom's hijacked truck, grabbed a handful of white powder, and forced it into the man's mouth. The effect was immediate—soon the guy was laughing like a deranged hyena.
"Hahahaha... You dare mess with Braga's operation... You're all... gonna die... every last one of you!"
There was still some fight left in him; their product was clearly high-grade stuff.
"Smack." Ron grabbed the crew leader's head and slapped him hard. "Listen up, amigo. You answer what I ask, when I ask it. Nod if you understand."
Without waiting for more threats, Ron casually inserted the blade he'd used to cut the drugs into the man's thigh muscle and gave it a twist.
"Ahhhh..." Even with the powder masking most of the pain, the crew leader still screamed at Ron's technique, and genuine fear finally appeared in his eyes.
"We got an understanding now?" The crew leader nodded frantically.
"Did you really kill Letty? With your own hands?"
Dom asked the first question, and got a head shake in response. He exhaled with relief. Thank God—Letty had to still be alive. As long as she was breathing, he had a chance to find her.
"Where'd they take her?" The crew leader shook his head again, but Ron smiled coldly and twisted the blade deeper into his muscle. "Maybe you should think harder about that."
The man screamed in agony. "Ahhhh... I swear I don't know! All I know is the guy who took her goes by Owen—big enough player that even Braga shows respect."
"There's Uncle Ron's good boy."
"Ahhh!" Ron yanked out the knife and pulled a plastic baggie from his pocket. He opened it, grabbed some sand-like crystals, and sprinkled them on the wound. Just when Arthur thought Ron was showing mercy, the drone lowered a large glass jar.
"One last question. You know anybody named KIKI?" Ron's smile turned even more pleasant. "Actually, never mind. Don't bother answering. I can see you're wearing his necklace. The one I gave him for his birthday last year."
"What are you doing?!" As Ron approached with the jar, the crew leader finally realized something was very wrong and cried out in terror.
"What am I doing? Just returning the favor for what you did to my mentor." Ron smashed the container against the man's legs. As if on cue, thousands of tiny black specs immediately swarmed over him.
The crew leader began thrashing violently in agony. "What the hell are those things?!"
"Fire ants. Oh, and that sugar I sprinkled on you? That's their favorite snack." Ron stretched casually. "Well, that wraps up tonight's operation. Time to head home."
Guess the Character: Anyone who guesses Carl's last name gets to name the next chapter.
(End of Chapter)
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