Mexico time, September 3rd, around one in the afternoon.
After nine hours of continuous fighting,
God's Battalion's three-tier defense line established in the Western Suburbs completely collapsed. The drug traffickers, lacking a command hub, managed to hold on for such a long time, which was already worthy of the paychecks Sinaloa had given them.
The LAV-25 wheeled infantry fighting vehicle entered the city!
It was time for urban combat!
Seated atop were three fully-armed Northern Soldiers, and beside the infantry fighting vehicle hung a portrait of Victor.
It meant: the Northern Governor had descended upon his territory!
The streets were desolate.
Rubble, overturned trash cans, stray dogs could be seen tucking their tails, rummaging for food amidst the garbage.
There were also corpses, their faces frozen in terror, clearly having suffered inhumane torment before death.
"Quack quack~"
