In the pile of rotting leaves in the Amazon Rainforest.
Captain John McTavish of the 141st Special Battalion of the Mexican Army used a tactical dagger to lift the camouflage net, revealing a half-buried diesel barrel underneath. Through the night vision goggles, the drug factory 300 meters away resembled a poisonous toad squatting in the mud, with dew forming on the tin roof and dripping down alongside rusty rivets.
"Are the Colombians in position?" He whispered into his throat mic, sweat trickling down his spine into his tactical pants under the bulletproof vest, "Tell that sniper called 'Viper', if he makes me wait any longer, I'll shove his sniper rifle up his ass!"
A chuckle from a Colombian Special Combat Team member came through the headset: "Calm down, John McTavish. My crosshairs are already fixed on the machine gunner at the factory entrance."
