M16A2 Specifications:
Replacement Date: November 20, 1983
Length: 100.6 cm
Caliber: 5.56×45 mm
Rifling Lines: 6
Theoretical Rate of Fire: 700-900 rounds per minute
Effective Range: 600 m
Muzzle Velocity: 945 m/s
Magazine Capacity: 20/30 rounds
Adjusted to three-shot burst mode, Saul aimed at a target not far ahead and pulled the trigger. In the dark of night, no blood spatter was visible; only the target trembled before collapsing to the ground. After neutralizing one adversary, he immediately shifted his aim to the next.
The chaos of battle ensued, with over 20 combatants from both sides armed with submachine guns. The gunfire echoed through the area, and the Salamanca fighters remained unaware of the danger closing in from behind. They only reacted as comrades began to fall, but the shooting angle from the van made it impossible to take down many opponents at once.
But it was too late for them to respond!
After dispatching two enemies, Saul rolled over, cradling his weapon, and paused his attack. With a wicked grin, he produced a brass horn from his side, a red tie still attached—a makeshift symbol of charge.
Beep beep, beep beep...
Under the night sky, the sound of the charge horn filled the air, sending tremors through the hearts of the enemy!
Hearing the horn, Jonas, despite the injury on his hand, yanked open the rear door of the van. Two comrades jumped out, unleashing a torrent of gunfire at the stubborn Salamanca fighters.
Saul had previously shown them anti-war videos acquired from Chinese sources, so they all recognized the significance of the horn. It signified the charge—the herald of victory!
As American soldiers, they had little respect for the military capabilities of other nations. Still, they acknowledged and admired the one commander who had defeated the U.S. military head-on in battle—notably, during the Vietnam War, when a respected leader had cautioned against crossing the 17° line. The U.S. military had spent 12 years in Vietnam, yet they dared not cross that line. This fact underscored the formidable reputation of those who resisted U.S. aggression.
Under Saul's guidance, the American soldiers felt a surge of excitement at the sound of the charge. It meant the battle was nearing its end!
Encircled, they unleashed a flurry of crossfire that extinguished the last breaths of the Salamanca forces. Once the gunfire ceased, Bill and the others began searching the area, ensuring the fallen were truly incapacitated.
Standing up, Saul laughed as he secured the horn back to his waist. It commanded the battle with a single word: cool!
After a moment, Bill approached, looking distressed. "What should we do now? Those damned guys blew up the van, and we can't retrieve it."
Saul scratched his head, momentarily stumped. If it were an ordinary van, they could leave it behind. But this was no ordinary vehicle; it resembled a van but was actually an armored personnel carrier. If the police got hold of it, hiding the incident would be nearly impossible. If the media reported on the gang fire involving an armored vehicle, it would undoubtedly attract the FBI's attention.
The gravity of the situation dampened Saul's earlier enthusiasm.
"What now?" Bill pressed.
"Damn it," Saul exclaimed, stomping his foot. "Get back immediately! I don't care how you do it—bring a crane over here and flip the vehicle. I need to call Wells and stall for time. ASAP!"
"Got it!" Bill replied, sprinting toward the vehicle.
Saul quickly divided the remaining team into two groups: one to clean the battlefield, removing bodies and bullet casings, and the other to set up a perimeter in case police arrived too soon.
As he gave orders, Saul cursed under his breath, lamenting the lack of a mobile phone. He needed to contact Wells immediately! Racing towards a nearby residential house, he decided to act quickly.
Without hesitation, he masked his face with a cloth, brandished his gun, and charged forward. Knocking on the door was out of the question; instead, he shot the lock and kicked it open, bursting inside.
The screams of the occupants filled the room as Saul fired three shots into the ceiling. "Silence! Anyone who makes a sound will be killed!"
In the chaos, the male homeowner stumbled from his bed, reaching for a Remington in the cabinet. Saul aimed his gun at him. "Be smart. Don't think about doing anything foolish."
"The money's in the drawer," the homeowner stammered, pointing.
"Forget the money!" Saul yelled, tossing a handful of dollar bills onto the floor. "I just need to borrow your phone. Now get out!"
The homeowner's family, bewildered and terrified, stood frozen, their eyes wide with shock. They couldn't believe someone broke in with a gun just to use the phone.
Seeing their hesitation, Saul fired three more bursts into the floor, shouting, "Go, go, go!"
The family bolted out of the house, leaving Saul alone. He quickly dialed Wells's home number, muttering impatiently, "Come on, come on, pick up!"
After a few rings, the line connected. "This is Wells."
"It's Saul. Sorry to disturb you so late," Saul said, his urgency tempered now that he had Wells on the line.
Wells's voice immediately sharpened. "Saul, did you cause that ruckus to the north?"
"Just dealing with some unwanted pests. Had to squash them before they caused more trouble," Saul replied.
"Damn it, Saul! The police are already getting calls about gunfire. It sounds like a war zone out there," Wells snapped, clearly irritated.
"I know, I know. But you understand, sometimes you have to clean up the trash to keep the streets clean," Saul explained, trying to calm Wells down.
"If you just wanted to show off, you wouldn't be calling me right now. What's really going on?" Wells demanded, his patience wearing thin.
"Alright, listen," Saul began, "the situation's a bit more complicated. We had to take down some Salamanca guys, but they blew up our van. It's actually an armored personnel carrier, and if the cops find it, we're looking at serious heat. We need a crane to flip the vehicle and some time to clear out before the authorities show up."
Wells sighed, the weight of the situation sinking in. "Okay, I'll see what I can do to buy you some time. But you owe me for this, Saul."
"Understood. Thanks, Wells. We'll handle the rest," Saul said, ending the call and feeling a little more at ease.
Saul quickly regrouped with his team, directing them to keep cleaning up and to be ready to move as soon as the crane arrived. The tension was palpable, but they worked swiftly and efficiently, each knowing that their lives depended on it.
As the minutes ticked by, the distant sound of sirens began to echo through the night. Saul's team held their positions, ready to delay the police if necessary. Finally, the crane arrived, and they worked quickly to right the armored vehicle.
With the vehicle back on its wheels, they piled in, leaving the scene just as the first police cars approached. Saul watched the flashing lights recede in the rearview mirror, a mixture of relief and exhaustion washing over him.
"Well, that was close," Bill muttered from the passenger seat.
"No kidding," Saul replied, his mind already racing with plans to ensure they never found themselves in such a precarious position again.
They drove off into the night, the adrenaline of battle slowly giving way to the need for rest and regrouping. This skirmish was over, but the war was far from finished.