Jack found himself both amused and exasperated. The so-called "most elusive and cunning drug lord" that the CIA and DEA had only managed to capture in four frontal photos over two decades now had his portrait blatantly plastered all over the streets.
It was unclear whether the agencies had a peculiar definition of what constituted a "clear frontal photo," or if no one had seriously considered taking action against a drug kingpin who had smuggled drugs worth billions of dollars into the Federation until the unfortunate death of a DEA agent.
"Who's that guy?" Jack asked as their convoy turned a corner, where a large poster featuring another middle-aged Latino man appeared on the wall. Across the poster, a single Spanish word, "MUERTE", was spray-painted in bold red letters.
"'MUERTE' means death. What about him?" Jack had made sure to brush up on his Spanish before this mission and now spoke it better than 99% of people in Spanish-speaking countries.
"It's a death notice," said Lieutenant Lopez, who glanced at the poster while gripping the steering wheel. "It means Doza's men have marked him for execution."
"What did he do? Another mayor or official who made anti-drug statements?" Jason asked, clearly having done some homework before their mission.
But Rita Alfaro's response left everyone stunned. "Doza's men abducted his daughter from the street and assaulted her. He reported it to the police."
"I thought such atrocities were confined to the Bible," Sonny Quinn muttered, now fully grasping Jack's earlier comments.
Most Americans tended to view their country as the center of the world. They couldn't distinguish between people from Japan and China, nor did they care about what their military did in other nations. Even someone as well-traveled as Sonny, who had been deployed worldwide, only knew Mexico—North America's so-called backyard—as a land of sultry Latin beauties with slim waists and curvaceous hips.
"In your country, power is backed by capital," Rita Alfaro explained, "but in Mexico, power is held by force. In the past decade alone, more people have died here from violent crime than in Iraq and Afghanistan combined. So, welcome to this hopeless hell, right next to paradise."
Her words left the group in a heavy silence. No one spoke until their convoy reached an abandoned factory surrounded by high walls.
As the heavy steel roller door slowly lifted, revealing rows of fully armed Mexican Marines standing at attention, Jack felt a strange sense of déjà vu. The last time he had entered a similar facility, it was a heavily guarded prison. This time, the security was even tighter—clearly a military base.
After getting out of the vehicles, the SEALs casually chewed gum and exchanged curious glances as they observed the meticulous security setup, which included guards stationed every few steps. They looked more like tourists than elite soldiers.
"Doza has informants in every military base and police station in this country," Rita Alfaro explained as she led them inside. "That's why we've repurposed this old factory as our headquarters."
She turned and greeted a rotund man in his late forties wearing a military uniform. This was likely Colonel Martinez, whom she had mentioned earlier.
"I thought they'd send soldiers, not cowboys," the colonel muttered in Spanish, his eyes on the Americans. Rita laughed awkwardly and stepped back to let him take the lead.
Jason's face darkened slightly. Though he didn't understand Spanish, it was clear enough that the remark wasn't flattering.
"Relax, just some local grumbling," Jack whispered to him. "We need their help to finish the mission. Trust can come later; no need to sour things now."
While not every country could recover its dignity through trials by fire as China had after its humiliating modern history, even a nation like Mexico—riddled with chaos from all sides—could still produce genuine patriots. For a soldier like Martinez, seeing foreign troops on his homeland, even if they came with goodwill, likely stung his pride. A bit of complaining was natural.
"I'm Major Eric Blackburn," the SEALs' commanding officer said, stepping forward with a friendly smile and offering his hand.
"Colonel Francisco Martinez," the Mexican officer replied, shaking hands briefly before getting straight to the point. "To be frank, I didn't want you here. Taking down Doza should've been my job."
"How has your progress been so far?" Jason asked bluntly, clearly ignoring Jack's earlier advice.
Colonel Martinez's face twitched slightly, and his hands went to his hips. His gaze at Jason grew colder.
Sensing the tension, Major Blackburn quickly stepped in. "We're just here to help however we can, Colonel."
"Thank you," Martinez replied, though his tone carried a trace of sarcasm as he glanced again at Jason. "The biggest help you can offer is to follow the rules. No alcohol, no women allowed here. Lieutenant Lopez will take your men to the barracks. Once you're settled, we'll hold a briefing."
Turning to Jason, the colonel added, "Sergeant Hayes, you're in charge of Team B, right?"
Jason, hiding behind his sunglasses, narrowed his eyes, suspecting a confrontation. "That's correct."
"In that case, I'll be under your command during operations." Martinez's lips curled into a faint, enigmatic smile. "You understand what I mean, don't you?"
Jason frowned, catching the implication. He nodded curtly. "Understood." With that, he turned and walked off.
This exchange reflected a shared understanding among soldiers. While Major Blackburn outranked everyone as a major, Jason, as a sergeant, would lead the SEALs during combat since he operated on the front lines. His decisions in the heat of battle would take precedence, with Blackburn deferring to him in practice.
Martinez's statement was simple but significant. He planned to join the front-line action and fully integrate his men into the SEALs' operations, placing himself under Jason's direct command. While his orders likely came from higher-ups, his willingness to hand over authority so openly was a gesture of goodwill—one that made Jason's earlier confrontational stance seem petty.
What a sly old fox, Jack thought as he followed the group into the barracks. First, Martinez established authority with his no-alcohol, no-women rule. Then, he extended a friendly hand by surrendering command.
This Colonel Martinez was proving to be an intriguing character.
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Fairy Tail: Igneel's Eldest Son (Chapter 256)
I Am Thalos, Odin's Older Brother (Chapter 336)
Reborn in America's Anti-Terror Unit (Chapter 542)
Solomon in Marvel (Chapter 924)
Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet (Chapter 1284)
Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1289)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
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