In the midst of the noise, an armed escort vehicle, entirely black and looking very intimidating, arrived.
As the vehicle came to a halt, a group of fully armed soldiers, led by an officer, quickly lined up in two rows.
The officer scanned the crowd, walked up to Dean, and saluted. "Hello, Special Agent Dean. I am Doug, the leader of the NSA's fifth special operations team. Director Amon has ordered us to follow your commands unconditionally for this operation!"
Dean surveyed the elite special operations team and nodded in satisfaction.
Amon really came through. This was his trump card. The Source of Suffering organization indoctrinated and brainwashed children, even attempting to train them to infiltrate the army, posing a threat to the national security of the United States. This perfect excuse left the FBI with nothing to say.
Of course, Amon helped Dean primarily because Dean promised to attribute all the credit to him.
Free credit. He couldn't refuse.
The personnel were in place.
Dean walked over to Beck, muttered a few words, and had him take his companions far away.
Once the area was cleared, Dean took out the map provided by Mike Smith and pointed to several exits.
"The enemy is a group of brutal terrorists. They just orchestrated a massive explosion in the city, causing dozens of casualties, and have detained many children for brainwashing. Our goal now is to kill them all!"
Doug looked at the rudimentary map and frowned. "If they have explosives, won't it be very dangerous for us to go in?"
A fierce light flashed in Dean's eyes. "These people are depraved and might use those children as human bombs. For safety's sake, we must drive them out first. Leave the rest to my men; you just focus on blocking any FBI agents."
Thinking of the little 'rioters'—those children who hadn't hesitated to shoot at innocent people—Dean felt no mercy in his heart.
Doug glanced at the tough-looking men behind Dean, who clearly had a gangster-like demeanor, nodded, and said no more.
Soon, Dean witnessed what professionals could do.
The armed transport vehicle wasn't just for transport; it also carried specialized equipment for such situations.
Seven or eight plastic hoses, resembling water pipes, were connected to a large machine and then inserted into the entrances of the underground passages.
Some pungent white pills were dropped into the machine, and water was added.
The next moment, the water seemed to boil, emitting large plumes of yellow smoke that poured through the hoses and into the tunnels.
When the time was right, two more members of the special operations team brought out specialized tubular fans. They inserted them into the passages, activated them, and helped the poison smoke spread faster into the church's underground levels.
In just under three minutes, the seemingly empty rural church erupted with violent coughing as figures began to rush out.
Without needing any orders, BANG! BANG! BANG!
The strong men Dick had brought raised their guns and fired!
The people who rushed out screamed and retreated.
But not long after, yellow smoke began to emerge directly from the interior of the church building.
The underground rats tried again to rush outside.
This time, a group of children led the charge, about a dozen or so of them, swarming out of the church and running towards Dean and the others, coughing and weakly crying for help.
Once the onlookers saw them clearly, they shouted in unison, "Stop! Hands on your heads, all of you! Get down on the ground!"
After the command was shouted several times, the group of children not only failed to comply but actually sped up their approach.
Without a second word, Dean's men continued to fire.
In the blink of an eye, the ground was littered with bodies.
Just then, a woman's voice came from a hidden, dark corner.
FBI Agent Ruth emerged, furious and clutching a recording device. She raged, "You bastards! Have you no humanity? They're just children..."
A bullet struck Ruth squarely in her open mouth, silencing her completely.
Until darkness fully engulfed her consciousness, Ruth never imagined that Dean would dare to kill her—an FBI agent—in front of so many witnesses...
After eliminating the annoying fly, Dean signaled to Dick.
Dick nodded. With two others, he dragged Ruth's body, lifeless as a dead dog, in front of them. They stripped her, doused her clothes and belongings with gasoline, and set them ablaze.
In the distance, Doug from the NSA special operations team watched this unfold, his cheek twitching twice.
This kid was too reckless; he wasn't treating me like an outsider at all!
Doug glanced around, saw his team members diligently guarding the tunnel entrances, and quickly walked over. "Dean, that's an FBI agent. What do you plan to do about this?"
He was Amon's confidant, so he harbored some goodwill towards Dean.
Dean shrugged, pointing to Ruth's body on the ground, now dressed in civilian clothes. He said mournfully, "Captain Doug, something unfortunate just happened. FBI Agent Ruth, against all advice, tried to sneak into the terrorist base to investigate. Unfortunately, her position was exposed, and she died in the line of duty!"
Doug's mouth twitched twice, and he nodded. "Yes, my men all saw it. The incident is indeed very unfortunate."
As they were speaking, Dick ran over, a look of lingering fear on his face. "Dean, you were right! Some of those children actually had explosives on them!"