"If word of this gets out,"
"Can I even live my life anymore?"
Admiral Francisco Pancho let out a weary sigh and patted his thigh, "The doctor says my body's failing, I don't have much time left, I... can't move anymore, I'm too old!"
Popovich's face tensed up.
His eyes squinting and sinister, made Admiral Francisco Pancho feel uncomfortable and drained. This man was no good.
"Fine then, Defense Minister, you take good care of yourself, I'll find a doctor to look into it, the government still needs you, I still need you." Popovich pursed his lips into a smile, patted his shoulder, which frightened Francisco Pancho, causing him to chuckle awkwardly.
Finally, after exchanging a few pleasantries, the old man got up to leave. When he reached the door, he paused, then suddenly his body hunched over, muttering, "Old age, my body's failing."
With that, he limped out of the door.
Popovich's eyelids were trembling behind him.
His brother, Aldous Wendell, walked in, looked back at the Defense Minister, and asked, "Big brother, what's up with that old man?"
"Close the door!" Popovich barked.
The other man shut the door, and suddenly a head popped around the corner of the corridor, Admiral Francisco Pancho's gaze clear as crystal despite his sighs.
These two brothers, they seemed up to no good.
Soon enough, they'd grind his old bones to dust, he thought, shaking his head and walking away.
After all, he was only responsible for talking, not doing.
He didn't want his tombstone defaced after his death.
Popovich's eyes were grim, "That old man is not cooperative at all, every task I give him is met with excuses like 'it's too windy' or 'it's raining.'"
"I'll have someone take care of him!"
"Don't just think about fighting and killing, use your brains, we're politicians, not bandits!" Aldous Wendell shrank back, "Isn't it all the same?"
Feeling suddenly uncomfortable, he looked around - all incompetents!
He took a cigarette from the desk, lit it, tossed the lighter, "Looks like I'll have to handle it myself."
"Contact the American ambassador for me."
"Big brother, are you inviting him to dinner?" Aldous Wendell asked stupidly, just as he finished speaking, he jumped aside frightened as an ashtray crashed at his feet.
"Eat your mother! Go make the call!"
The other man ran off, murmuring about the brother who had always been a shadow over him from childhood, "Isn't my mom your mom too?"
I really want to split him in two.
Popovich furrowed his brows, picked up the telephone on the desk, "Connect me to the Zacatecas State office."
After a minute or two.
A voice came through, "Sir."
"Governor Miguel Hidalgo, I need a favor from you."
"Hand Grenade! Hand Grenade!!!"
In a row of houses at Savilian Village, Federico Ferrari Orsi leaned against the wall and shouted to his rear.
Two drug traffickers pulled the pins and threw the grenades into the shattered walls.
The explosion sent dust flying.
The gunfire inside abruptly stopped.
He was the first one to leap forward.
Fighting could easily surge adrenaline, making one completely lose rationality in the red mist, this was why many turned mentally unstable after coming off the battlefield.
Humans have only learned to fight throughout thousands of years of history.
Around a corner inside the house.
Lieutenant Helvin Sandoval dragged an injured man inside, pressed one hand on the leg wound, pulled out a bandage, tied it tight around the spot two fingers from the wound, "Morphine! Give him a shot of morphine!"
A soldier hurried over, took out a syringe and administered it.
Helvin Sandoval took a new magazine from his gear, clicked it in place, crouched, and opened fire!
The smoke from the grenade made visibility poor.
"Rocket launcher! Fire one!!!" Helvin Sandoval gestured to his comrade behind him.
A Lieutenant held an M72 LAW, folks instinctively cleared out, MD, don't get too close or you'll get scorched.
Federico Ferrari Orsi felt uneasy; humans still retain their Sixth Sense from their ape days, some more, some less, he instinctively ducked to the side, curling up.
The damaged section was blasted even wider, heavy beams creaking loudly, clearly unable to hold, fell straight down.
Several drug traffickers were immediately crushed underneath.
Skulls shattered, blood seeping out.
Federico Ferrari Orsi stood up, swaying; he was running purely on adrenaline.
"Ah!!!" a soldier from the Northern Army roared, bursting from the house, grabbed him, and started striking his head with a helmet, the two tumbling to the ground, brawling.
Federico Ferrari Orsi snapped too, bit down on the soldier's ear, and chewed hard, the other screamed in pain.
He chewed the ear in his mouth a couple of times, swallowed it.
His next bite aimed directly for the neck.
Close-quarters combat was inevitable on the battlefield.
It didn't take long for the Northern Army soldier to stop moving.
Federico Ferrari Orsi had barely stood up when bullets from some unseen corner came flying in, thudding dully as they burrowed into his body.