Marvel Saiyans - Chapter 6
Alejandro held a bottle of ice-cold beer in the bar, sipping it slowly.
“I’m done, Matt.”
He spoke to Matt Graver, who was sitting beside him.
Matt Graver, a CIA operative known for taking on the agency’s dirty jobs that skirted the rules, was infamous even within the powerful CIA. He led a special forces team that took down the Reyes criminal organization.
Alejandro, originally a Mexican prosecutor, had his life shattered by the Reyes Group. He had always sought revenge, and Matt gave him that opportunity.
“What’s wrong? Can’t stand that FBI goody-two-shoes anymore?”
The CIA didn’t have jurisdiction to enforce the law within the U.S. and had to work jointly with the FBI. The FBI had sent a female agent named Kate, whose “professional ethics” had caused numerous complications in their operations.
“You could say that I need a break.”
Alejandro replied.
“Bang!”
Matt slammed his hand on the bar, startling the other patrons. He lowered his voice to Alejandro:
“Don’t play dumb with me, Ali. Did you contact that mutant who went on a rampage at the tire shop? You’re insane, collaborating with the Brotherhood of Mutants; you’ll get yourself killed!”
The Brotherhood of Mutants had long been recognized as a terrorist organization for mutants, and any association with them meant being ostracised in the U.S. and the entire Americas.
Alejandro knew he couldn’t fool Matt with his feeble excuses. He shook his head:
“He’s not with the Brotherhood of Mutants, I’m sure. He is indifferent to mutant rights and doesn’t carry the Brotherhood’s scent.”
He laid out his entire plan to Matt.
Matt hesitated for a moment.
“You don’t have to quit, and I’ll apply to the higher-ups. This plan has potential. If possible, we might even recruit that mutant into the CIA.”
Alejandro shook his head.
“I’m not divulging any information about him, and I don’t want to die yet.”
He had seen Broly’s extraordinary surveillance methods. He guessed it might be a telepathic ability similar to Professor X’s, a blend of Professor X and Wolverine—no one would want to be his enemy.
Alejandro stood up, picked up a lighter from the table, and pocketed it, heading towards the bar door.
“You know how much I want revenge; don’t try to stop me.”
Matt shrugged and continued drinking his beer.
…
…
Back at the safehouse in El Paso, Alejandro suddenly became alert and drew his handgun from its holster, holding it as he cautiously entered the room.
“Don’t be nervous, it’s me.”
Broly sat casually on the couch in the safehouse.
“So, how did it go?”
Alejandro put his handgun back in the holster, went into the kitchen, made some sandwiches, and placed them on a plate.
“Matt won’t stop us; he’ll even provide the necessary support. At least the border patrol won’t check our car.” He picked up a sandwich and took a few bites: “We’re heading to Mexico today.”
After finishing his sandwich, he opened a hidden compartment in the cabinet and took out two large bags of gear.
“Can you handle a gun?”
“Of course!”
Broly said. Although his fists were much more powerful than a rifle, they weren’t as efficient at killing. So, he had exchanged his points for this skill.
?Loki’s Shooting Skills?
This skill costs only 5 points, but it’s efficient. After all, even using a submachine gun, it’s no simple task to hit Master Roshi. Alejandro nodded and tossed a rifle from the equipment bag to Broly.
“HK-433, 12-inch barrel, the latest product from HK Inc. C-Mag drum, holds 100 rounds.”
Broly examined the rifle in his hands. The fine craftsmanship and precise mechanics made this rifle more like a work of art than a weapon.
“Do drug dealers use such good weapons? In my memory, they usually have old rifles like AK47s, right?”
Alejandro shook his head.
“The Mata Group is no small player. They have assets worth about twenty-five billion dollars; they wouldn’t use outdated junk from the last century.”
…
…
Diaz, the senior lawyer for the Reyes Group, had extensive connections in Mexico’s law enforcement and had bribed countless police officers. He also lobbied to amend Mexican laws to create a more lenient environment for the Reyes Group. He had amassed a fortune and owned a mansion with over a hundred rooms, complete with a man-made lake stocked with fierce fish worldwide.
Three strong bodyguards escorted him out of the Mexico City Business Bank Financial Building and into the back seat of a Mercedes-Maybach S560.
He had rented an entire floor for his law firm’s office in the tallest and most expensive office in all of Mexico.
The heavy luxury car, powered by a robust engine, glided out of the parking spot. Just as it was about to merge onto the main road, an old van suddenly burst out, blocking the way.
The van’s door slid open, and a fully armed thug wearing a skull mask raised a rifle and started shooting at the Maybach S560. The luxury car’s windshield instantly filled with bullet holes, but most bullets did not penetrate the bulletproof glass.
With a roar from the engine, the car’s bodyguards tried to ram the obstructing van.
“Cut!”
Broly discarded his rifle, stood firmly in front of the oncoming luxury car, and, with sheer brute force, stopped the entire vehicle with one foot.
The tires screeched violently against the ground, emitting a burst of hot black smoke, and although the engine roared, the car remained immobile.
The panicked bodyguards rolled down the window, leaned out with their rifles, and attempted to shoot.
“Bang! Bang! Bang!”
Alejandro, already out of the van, raised his rifle and shot them all dead.
Diaz opened the car door, shuffling his bulky body towards the financial building.
“Bang!”
A burst of blood mist exploded from his leg, and his hefty body heavily fell to the ground, his glasses flying off. Driven by a strong survival instinct, he struggled up from the ground, limping as he continued to run.
“Bang!”
His injured leg was hit again, and this time, Diaz couldn’t run any further. He writhed on the ground like a fat grub.
Alejandro sauntered, picked up the fallen glasses, and threw them onto Diaz.
“Put them on.”
He pointed the rifle at Diaz, his tone even.
Diaz shakily picked up the glasses and put them on.
Alejandro pulled off his mask, allowing Diaz to see his face. Diaz recognised him, his pupils constricted, and he started to say something.
“Goodbye, my friend.”
Alejandro didn’t give him a chance to speak.
“Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!”
A hail of bullets turned Diaz’s hefty body into a mass of mangled flesh.
He glanced at the footprint on the car’s hood, pulled the pin of a hand grenade, lifted it, and tossed it inside.
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