Although it was January, it was still oppressively hot here.
Mosquitoes buzzed incessantly by the ear, hovering like bombers, ready to dive in for a bite at any moment, incredibly annoying.
"Damn mosquitoes!"
The guard on the rooftop cursed under his breath and slapped a desperately hungry mosquito dead on his neck.
He grumbled, filled with resentment.
Today he was on lookout duty on the rooftop, and hadn't left since dusk.
The aroma of meat and liquor drifting up from below was sheer torture.
He checked his watch.
At midnight he could switch shifts, when he would definitely head to the kitchen to grab some leftovers, pour a good drink to soothe his stomach, and then happily sleep till daylight.
Now, with bodyguards and armed guards inside and outside the house, and this being Batchai's territory, who would dare cause trouble here?
It made everyone nervously on high alert duty, which was absolutely unnecessary!
The guard walked to the edge of the rooftop railing and stretched his head out to look down.
Several SUVs were parked in front of the house, and beside the front door brothers were accompanied by a few hulking bodyguards who had arrived with the SUVs.
"Hmph!"
He had no fond feelings for these fierce-looking brutes.
He had seen these guys before.
They had visited once a month ago.
Lately, for some reason, there were always Caucasians coming to see the boss.
And these Caucasians brought bodyguards who were arrogantly overbearing, not putting his own group of the White Face gang in their eyes at all, as they snubbed their noses at them.
"Acting all high and mighty!"
He muttered under his breath, wanting to spit on the heads of those guys below, but he held back.
He looked around, the night deepening, and the small town quieted down; the guard's tense nerves slightly relaxed.
He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, carefully lit one, and greedily took several deep drags, indulging in the peace of blowing smoke rings.
Smoking was a guilty pleasure for him, and if the boss saw, he would definitely be scolded.
Because Batchai didn't smoke.
Um...
A white powder dealer who didn't smoke.
But he sold white powder.
Hehe.
They say smoking leads to cancer.
Cancer?
As if taking white powder could make one live forever.
Hypocrites!
He sneered coldly to himself.
Just as he was indulging in the relaxation of smoking, in the alley opposite the small red building, two dark figures were slowly approaching close to the building.
And on the other side behind him, two more figures stealthily made their way over, reaching about thirty meters from the small red building.
Since the economy of this place was extremely underdeveloped, the town was nearly devoid of any public lighting at night, everywhere was pitch black, even the few lit windows emitted only dim light.
At the front door, Batchai's men gathered and chatted, while Joyce's mercenaries seemed not to mix well with them, standing several meters away on the opposite side, each group keeping to themselves.
Not far from the front door, hidden behind a wall corner, Song Heping felt a flicker of joy. He quietly asked over the channel, "Grey Wolf, report your position."
"In position."
He quickly received Grey Wolf's reply.
"Hunter, report the situation."
"The rooftop guard is smoking, those downstairs are chatting, no one in the courtyard, all inside."
"Understood."
He peered once more at those bodyguards and guards in front of the door.
They stood somewhat scattered.
But it was manageable. A sweeping fire from a PKM machine gun should resolve the issue very quickly.
But it must be fast!
Speed is the essence!
If they were fast enough, the enemy wouldn't have time to react. If they gained reaction time and hid behind the cars or took cover in the courtyard, it would complicate matters.