"120 yards, two o'clock, behind the slightly damaged window in the upper left corner."
The cunning Mason removed a brick from the parapet and observed from there, quickly discovering the sniper's new position.
"Do you need me? Although I haven't in all these years..."
The old man was halfway through his sentence when Jack suddenly stepped aside, his SR25 in hand without even opening the bipod, and directly took a standing position to shoot.
Three consecutive gunshots rang out, and when Jack barely ducked behind the pillar, a dense barrage of bullets surrounded them. Not only were they fired at by general-purpose machine guns, but also by several assault rifles.
Stray bullets flew everywhere, and the splashing brick chips even scratched Mason's cheek, leaving several bloody marks.
The old man remained unfazed, even daring to continue peering out of the makeshift observation port. Then, with a look of shock on his face, he asked, amidst the roar of gunfire, "You actually killed him?"
A mere 120 yards, less than 110 meters in metric terms, was hardly a challenge for Jack.
He'd more than just killed the sniper; his first shot had pierced the scope of the anti-material sniper rifle, destroying it and blowing the sniper's head off. The next two shots were merely cover-ups.
And his target wasn't just the sniper. With a slump, he swung the Noveske N4 rifle from his shoulder to Mason, followed by four magazines, two each taped together.
"Cover me, let's take out the machine gun position together."
Mason, barely reacting, scrambled to grab the items, his face still etched with shock. "Are you really not worried I'll kill you and then take advantage of the chaos to escape?"
"I may be an FBI agent, but the feuds of your generation have nothing to do with me. I wasn't even born when you were imprisoned at Alcatraz,"
Jack declared, pulling two "little lemons"—M67 grenades—from his tactical vest pocket and shaking them in his hands.
The Noveske N4 was essentially still an AR-type assault rifle, and Mason quickly adapted to it after a brief exploration.
Without further ado, the old man, in his usual unsightly yet practical crawling position, snake-like, reached behind another pillar. Standing, he raised the rifle high above his head and began firing with conviction in full-auto mode.
While often ridiculed, faith-based shooting can be used in different situations. For example, in this instance, Mason had effectively drawn fire and, leveraging his superior position, forced the general-purpose machine gun position to relocate.
The burly black machine gunner, carrying a sixteen-kilogram M60E3 general-purpose machine gun in one hand and an ammunition box weighing nearly twice that much in the other, cursed loudly as he crouched behind the concrete base of the water tower.
His two companions, under the cover of him and the sniper, had just managed to drag their wounded comrade back, only to have the sniper killed in the blink of an eye.
General Hammer's furious calls echoed through the squad's communication channel, but after those three shots, there was no reply from the sniper.
After firing his rifle barrel red at the pile of rubble on the hospital rooftop, the black machine gunner quickly found himself a new position. As he crouched to replace the barrel, a sudden chill washed over him.
He subconsciously looked up at the sky, and saw a small black dot drawing a strange arc across the night sky under the bright moonlight, and fell in front of him with a plop.
The black machine gunner felt his hair stand on end. He tumbled backward and fell to the ground again, only to hear the grenade explode behind him.
But before he could turn to check for injuries, another "little lemon" landed with a thud, bouncing lightly twice on the mud before landing right in front of him.
"Fuck!"
"Boom!"
—
"Retreat!" General Hammer snatched his military cap from his head, slammed it to the ground, and gritted his teeth as he barked the order.
The two sides were already evenly matched in numbers, and they were the attackers, with no real advantage. Yet, within ten minutes of the battle, two men were dead and one seriously wounded. How could they continue this battle?
But there was an even greater concern for the desperate general.
"Sir, Captain Fall... he might not be able to make it,"
Major Bast, his deputy, whispered in his ear. He looked at the captain, carried by two soldiers, his eyes filled with sadness and deep concern.
From the gravely injured Captain Fall to the two guards killed in the brazen attack in the morgue, to the snipers and machine gunners who were the mainstay of General Hammer's forces, nearly all of his truly loyal men had been killed or wounded.
On the surface, the 13 soldiers participating in this operation were dedicated warriors who shared his beliefs. In reality, both General Hammer and his deputy, Major Bast, were well aware that,
aside from the soldiers of the Expeditionary Force Reconnaissance Company who had served him faithfully since the Gulf War and had bravely fought alongside him on the front lines, the remaining Marines, though considered "marine procurers," were essentially money-grubbing operatives.
General Hammer had offered the Pentagon $1 billion. After deducting $830 million for the families of the 83 fallen soldiers, whom he believed deserved compensation, he promised to divide the remaining funds equally among the recruited "mercenaries."
If all went according to plan, neither General Hammer nor Major Bast would have to worry about morale.
Although a "mercenary" had been killed in an accident while transporting VX missiles to the armory, the soldiers loyal to General Hammer had overwhelmingly outnumbered and outmatched him, so naturally, not a single incident had occurred.
But now, the situation had taken a sudden turn for the worse. The only truly loyal and sympathetic subordinates left were the two men guarding the lighthouse launch pad. Both General Hammer and Major Baxter had a foreboding feeling.
"
Dr. Reid, what are you doing?"
Emily had just coaxed Mason's daughter, Jade, off to rest. When she returned, she found Reid, frowning, studying some documents, instead of staring intently at the screen like everyone else, closely monitoring the battle on the island.
Reid spread the files on the table like playing cards, pulling out a few. "I've made some strange discoveries, and I feel the need to inform Jack."
"What discoveries?" Emily asked, questioning the files. She flipped through them, but found nothing unusual.
"I looked up the military history of these men and discovered that although these six were Marines, they weren't part of the expeditionary reconnaissance company and had never served under General Hammer."
Red's eyes gleamed in the light. "Aren't you curious? How did he convince those soldiers to participate in such a high-risk operation?"
(End of chapter)