Chapter 61 Independent Army

A valley in Eastern Europe, a camp of the Independent Army of Moldova.

Zeto Varadonn, the terrorist who calls himself "Sonar", is sitting in the tent at the headquarters, smoking a cigar, and the female announcer on the old TV screen in front of him is not knowing where to start. Show him his results several times.

"The whole country is at a standstill because of terrorists named Sonar," she said solemnly. "Statistics have repeatedly shown that Friday's bombing in the Metropolis killed 23 people and injured dozens more. Confidential Intelligence advises citizens to avoid gatherings and warns that Walladon's bombs are powered by the crescendo of crowd properties such as talking, laughter, and cellphone ringing. Waldon said it would be controversial if the UN did not meet soon to discuss the European nation of Moldova. territorial sovereignty issues, more attacks will be carried out..."

Seeing this, Vardon couldn't help grinning and laughing like a kid watching his prank take effect. Just at this moment, another high-ranking official of the Independence Army walked into the tent, bent over. He unloaded the heavy magazines and rifles on the table and sat beside Vardon.

Vardon handed him a cigar: "One?"

"No, thank you."

Varadon shrugged and lit the ashes on the gray-black floor beside the sofa: "You should try it, Dhaka. Those guys are bastards, but their cigars are excellent."

The man named Dhaka stared at the screen for a while with him and asked, "Your plan seems to be successful."

"It works," Varadon said confidently. "They'll do it. It's what those little bureaucrats do best—meetings and discussions. There's no way to get anything back by pretending to shout empty slogans. What is won by strength, which is the only way the world works? Only by showing them strength and poking at their sore spots can the necessary attention be drawn."

He was talking smugly when a recruit wearing a steel helmet suddenly got into the tent with a panicked look. He stood at attention first, gave a standard military salute, and then hurriedly reported: "Sir, we may have encountered an enemy attack."

"Impossible." Before Varadon could speak, Dhaka frowned and said, "Politicians of those big countries will never dare to act rashly at this juncture; even if they decide to take tough measures, it will be after the UN conference."

The soldier reported: "But we have received reports of enemy attacks in several nearby training camps within a few minutes, and now all units over there have been completely silent on the communication channel. And according to the enemy's attack trajectory ... they're coming for us, sir."

Dhaka became a little uneasy, and he turned his attention to Varadon, who was still smoky on the sofa: "Could it be that this time it hit the key point of the US government, and they finally decided to spare no expense?"

It was the worst they could imagine. Varadon frowned, finished smoking the cigarette, flicked the cigarette butt aside, stood up, and said: "Who is it? We will know in a few minutes. Inform all units, the highest level of alert, and prepare to fight."

It has to be said that although these terrorists are not regular troops, the execution and discipline of the forces are all the same. Every soldier in the camp was ready to go in just a few minutes. The heavily armored tanks were lined up in a neat phalanx, with advanced heavy artillery on their wings. Don't look at them as irregular armed forces. Still, if any country's generals come to the military parade at this time, they will undoubtedly smack their tongues for this unidentified heavy firepower.

However, these devout warriors who use the slogan of jihad every day are desperadoes who are not afraid of death. Still, they have not experienced the baptism of the actual battlefield full of blood and war, and they can't help but feel when the real enemy is coming—a little nervous - especially when you don't know anything about the enemy.

Who will the enemy be? An invincible elite teacher? Or an elite squad of precision battlefield scalpels?

The unknown is often the source of fear, and unfounded suspicion makes the waiting process seem incredibly long.

"The Guard is Here"

I don't know how many seconds I counted in my heart; the so-called enemy finally appeared in front of this well-armed force. Contrary to the imagination of all of them, there were only two enemies, but they brought incomparable coercion far beyond the thousands of troops. The boy and girl who looked childish between their brows lightly fell to the front of the tank formation, shoulder to shoulder. The two red cloaks were like flags in the center of the battlefield.

But what's scary is the big "S" on their chests, that's a sign that everyone who lives on earth knows what it means, and many people even lose 8% of it the moment they see Ten's fighting spirit.

The numerous camp fell into an eerie silence, the soldiers breathing slowly, but no one spoke.

Jay took the first two steps, ignoring the countless muzzles and barrels pointed at him, and said in a gentle but incomparably loud voice: "If I were you, I would not Silly attempt. NowLet'sl saves the trouble and tell me which Zeto Varadon is, and we can still talk things through."

His tone was neither hasty nor slow, but he was full of energy, and his voice resounded across the field as if every gun barrel was buzzing under that loud voice. The terrorists turned pale and began to look at each other - they were not afraid of death; they were even proud of it. But they feared a winless battle, knowing their struggles wouldn't even mean anything in the face of their only two enemies.

The leader of the phalanx roared: "All units obey the order and fire!"

The order was like a thunderbolt that woke the souls of these outlaws, reminding them of the so-called teachings and creeds in an instant. The soldiers responded in unison, and the sound gathered in one place was more potent than before, like thunder in the sky.

The gunshots sounded, the fire of war ignited, and the fire of the guns covered the sky and covered the sky, wrapped in the thick and dark smoke, and swept away towards the two figures. The tens of meters within a radius of Jay and Kara's foothold were instantly surrounded by dense firepower. Imagine how spectacular the scene was when the firepower of an entire army poured into just two people without reservation.

Jay stood upright in the middle of the layers of flames and shrapnel and sighed helplessly. This is also an expected step that cannot be skipped. He didn't expect these terrorists to put down their guns when he shouted before, and then everyone poured a cup of tea and chatted calmly. The few words he put are more like It's routine.

Jay and Kara looked at each other through the smoke and flames, nodded tacitly, and then sinuously made an athlete-like start-up movement.

Half a second later, the roar of two air bursts was mixed with artillery fire. The red and blue afterimages were like two sharp knives stabbing straight out, cutting the front of the smoke screen, and the provoked hurricane drove the black smoke forward. Sweeping, the heavily armored tanks in the forefront were suddenly blown to the sides like Lego toys!