Marvel Saiyans - Chapter 7
Alejandro pulled out a dagger and cut off the right ears of all the bodies present, stuffing them into his pocket to take away. This was a standard method of intimidation used by the Mata Group.
Nearby, the sound of police sirens began to echo. This area, Reforma Avenue, is one of the busiest streets in Mexico City, right next to Chapultepec Park, a focal point of law enforcement for the Mexican police.
“We should go.”
Alejandro put his mask back on, took the driver’s seat, and threw the bag with the ears onto the passenger seat. Broly leaned out, one hand gripping the frame of the van’s window, the other holding an assault rifle, firing at the approaching police cars.
The recoil of the rifle was almost non-existent for him.
“Bang! Bang! Bang!”
Sparks erupted from the engine compartment of the police car as bullets penetrated it. The police car veered sharply and crashed into the curb. The officers inside quickly stopped the vehicle and fled.
Broly put away the rifle and sat back down, closing the door and frowning.
“You just stole four kills from me.”
After a hard fight, he gained no experience.
Alejandro, very familiar with the roads of Mexico City, took several detours, and soon the sound of sirens was almost gone. He found Broly’s obsession with killing somewhat strange.
“Don’t worry, there will be plenty of opportunities coming up.”
Broly put the safety on his rifle, took out the magazine, and began loading bullets.
Their next target was the Reyes Group’s drug factory, located in a hidden garage, capable of producing about twenty tons of methamphetamine a year. It was the largest of the fifty factories owned by the Reyes Group. These drugs, along with high-purity narcotics from Colombia, Bolivia, and Peru, were smuggled through tunnels across the border to Texas and then distributed to various states by mules.
This golden route brought abundant cash flow to the Reyes Group. Therefore, this crucial garage was hidden, guarded by over eighty fully armed soldiers, with watchtowers on the perimeter.
“How did you find that place?”
Broly asked, curious.
“As a garage, it uses too much electricity, water consumption, and sewage discharge exceeds standards. The Reyes Group thought they were being secretive, but the CIA had discovered this place long ago,” Alejandro explained.
The garage was in a town on the outskirts of Mexico City. The infrastructure was underdeveloped; only dirt roads remained after about ten miles of paved road from the city.
Dust billowed up along the way, and outside the window was a vast wilderness dotted with clusters of Joshua trees.
“Stay alert, and our car is too conspicuous now.”
Alejandro squinted his eyes, watching for movements on either side.
Ahead on the horizon appeared a settlement with rundown buildings and roadblocks set up. Several fierce-looking Latino men stood by the roadblocks.
They were all members of the Reyes Group, guarding the only route to the garage.
“What are you here for?” they asked in Spanish.
“I’m a tour guide; the guy in the back is an American. He wants to take some photos of the Mexican desert under the stars,” Alejandro replied.
Broly, who didn’t understand Spanish, saw that Alejandro was talking about him and quickly raised his DSLR camera to show them.
The Latino man eyed Broly and focused on the camera in his eyes. Licking his thick lips, the camera looked very valuable to him.
He said fiercely, “Give me that camera, and you guys get out of here.”
Broly didn’t understand what was being said and looked towards Alejandro.
Alejandro shook his head and whistled.
As the Latino man was about to say something else, a hand reached out from the car and grabbed his neck. His eyes bulged, and he could only let out a faint “heh” before he was strangled to death. The others nearby had not yet realized the fate of their companion when they were shot down.
“Act now! Don’t let them alert the people at the garage!” Alejandro opened the car door, got out from the driver’s seat, and, using the van as cover, shot at everyone in the settlement.
Worried that Alejandro would take all the kills, Broly fired a rifle from under the seat. He set it to fully automatic, his hands like vices firmly holding the gun steady without any recoil.
As bullets pierced through bodies, the unsuspecting gunmen were instantly brought down, their corpses littering the ground.
Broly, gun in both hands, kicked the door open and ducked behind a wall. The room immediately erupted in gunfire, bullets striking the wall and chipping away large chunks of cement. He elbowed the window open and shot in the direction of the gunfire, taking down several gunmen inside.
He was responsible for clearing the enemies inside the buildings, while Alejandro held a gun on guard to prevent anyone from escaping the settlement.
With a succession of gunshots, the people in the entire settlement were quickly killed or injured. They hadn’t imagined that their deaths would be over someone foolishly coveting a camera.
?Ding! Congratulations, a host has leveled up to level four, gaining three skill points and one attribute point?
About forty people in the settlement contributed over two hundred experience points. With previous experience, Broly leveled up three times to reach level four. However, the expertise needed for each level-up doubled; now, he needed four hundred points at level four.
The rule was to gain one skill point per level and one attribute point every three levels, with attribute points being much more valuable than skill points.
Without hesitation, he added the attribute point to his strength. His muscles tensed suddenly, and a surge of strength flowed deep within his body. He felt his strength increase by about a third.
This was somewhat terrifying. The improvement from his regular training paled compared to that from adding points. Moreover, it was difficult to improve intelligence through exercise, which could also be enhanced by adding points, making attribute points even more precious than he had anticipated.
“Who’s there!”
Broly suddenly called out, pulling a young boy about thirteen or fourteen from overgrown grass. The boy’s face was full of panic, pale and trembling.
He immediately knelt on the ground, about to beg for mercy.
“Bang!”
The boy was killed with a single shot, his lifeless body collapsing limply to the ground.
Broly put away his gun and sat back in the car.
Alejandro whistled.
“You’re more decisive than I thought; I was ready to cover you.”
Broly sat down in the seat and closed his eyes to rest.
“Since he chose to pick up a gun and become a warrior, he shouldn’t think about escaping by kneeling.”
Alejandro shrugged, casually cut a few ears, stuffed them into his pocket, shook the ears in the bag, cleaned up the scene, and took away all the shells and bullets, along with the body that had Broly’s fingerprints.
Although the level of the Mexican police was not high, he still didn’t leave any clues at the scene due to professional habit.
He threw the bag with the ears onto the passenger seat, sat in the car, and took a deep drag on a cigarette.
“What we’re about to do next will drive the entire Reyes Group mad.”
Broly said indifferently.
“I just love driving people mad.”
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