"Move! Move! Make way up front!"
On the jeep, guards were shouting loudly, signaling the soldiers in front not to block the way. The driver was frantically honking the horn, and people on the road hurriedly scattered, looking dissatisfied and muttered a few words, grumbling.
Beside him, General Alex Phillips was stiff-faced with a cigarette in his mouth, emanating a gloomy aura.
Damn, not firing a single shot and just running away—he still felt a surge of anger pressing on his chest.
The future War God of Mexico!
"Order the troops to speed up, set up a second line of defense at Cadreta!"
"Brigade commander, it's too late, the Northern Army's tanks are already behind us," cried an aide-de-camp next to him.
No sooner had he finished his words than gunfire was heard from behind, followed by the fearful cries of the soldiers, "Hurry up, move, they're catching up."
Many, not knowing what to do, blindly followed and ran forward. Suddenly, the formation of the troops was a mess, and they scurried to escape.
Alex Phillips was equally afraid. What good could come of being captured?
He kept urging the driver, who also became fierce, stepping on the gas pedal, ramming anything in front out of the way!
But clearly, their luck was not good; there was a sharp descent ahead that the driver didn't see, and the vehicle suddenly flew into the air and then crashed heavily to the ground. The car, unstable, flipped over!
The Chief of Staff crawled out from inside, screaming heartbreakingly, clutching his fractured arm, wailing mournfully.
"Brigade commander? Brigade commander! Quick, save the brigade commander!" he sat on the ground, urgently calling to the soldiers.
When the guards who arrived from behind lifted the jeep, Brigade Commander Alex Phillips was folded in an odd position on the seat, his neck twisted at a 110° angle, eyes bulging out, half his tongue hanging out.
Glass shards were embedded all over his face, one piece severely piercing through his neck.
By the time he was lifted out, there was no sign of life.
Alex Phillips' doppelganger was Walton Walker, dubbed the "U.S. General of Cavalry." Soon, the two could discuss their manner of death together down below.
Deprived of their "father," the morale of the 61st Brigade worsened. Under the leadership of the Chief of Staff, they continued the "breakout," but they didn't forget to send word back to the South, hoping to contact the Popovich Government for help with the retreat.
The routes in the Northern State were too treacherous.
Southern. Yucatan Island.
Los Zetas Commander, the Southern Government's new 24-year-old Defense Minister, Arturo Desena, was in his own office…
Playing computer games.
Civilization (Microprose)!
Oh, right, this game was produced by an American game company. Sid Meier is the lead designer and president, but if someone paid close attention, they could see an investment company, "New World Capital."
This company was established in 1989 in Silicon Valley, investing in the likes of Apple, the World Wide Web (WWW), Wells Fargo, Coca-Cola, and many internet companies, with investments totaling 600 million US Dollars!
They were Silicon Valley's new "Red Man."
There were always people lining up outside the door.
The boss was a white man.
Ten years later, let's see how much these are worth!
But the boss of "New World Capital" was actually "Capesay Bank," registered in Brazil, which mainly dealt with insurance and cargo loans. The bank had over thirteen shareholders, all with unheard names.
Among them, a company holding 1.2%, called "New Hope" Group, established by Vic's white-glove Best!
The remaining companies were actually shell companies, with the ultimate principals all being either a battalion or company commander from the Northern Army. So, in reality, the behind-the-scenes boss was Victor!
The Southern Government's head honcho's game was invented by a company established by his opponent, stimulating when you think about it.
So, the Northern Government might be strapped for cash, but Victor… wasn't necessarily poor.
Just as Arturo Desena was engrossed in his game, he heard urgent knocking. He turned his head, frowning, pressed pause, swiveled his chair, "Come in."
"Boss… uh, Defense Minister, we have an urgent message from the 61st Brigade." The man entering was Arturo Desena's right-hand man, Endric Vinicius, nicknamed "Fox," the second-in-command of Los Zetas.
He used to be a street thug, then went to Colombia for "further education," later joined the Mexico Police Headquarters as the head of the Anti-drug Combat Department!
Now he serves as the Southern Government's "Deputy Defense Minister" and "Minister of Foreign Affairs."
He was nearly 20 years older than Arturo Desena, but he didn't hesitate to call him boss. It was indeed a great undertaking, but the other party preferred the use of official titles during work.
"Boss, boss" made the team look very informal.
Endric Vinicius passed over the document in his hands. Once Desena took it, he hastily said, "The 61st Brigade encountered artillery fire from the Northern Army's Marine Fourth Division in Nuevo Leon State. Despite a valiant resistance, there was a traitor among the Monterrey people. General Alex Phillips led his troops in retreat and fought against the Northern Army near the Kroso River. He personally led a counter-charge, killed over 20 enemy soldiers, and then fell in battle!"
Arturo Desena, looking at the document in his hands, felt each word shining brightly, quite blinding. He fell silent for a moment. "How did he really die?"
He didn't believe a single word in there.
Alex Phillips fight to the death?
Do you know what his nickname was?
"The Korean Male of North America!"