MLC Command Center Location.
Early morning, 5:30 AM.
Bang—
A 60-mm mortar shell landed in the camp, collapsing one of the tents.
"Mortar attack—!"
The sudden scream shattered the previous peace.
Two cooks in the center of the camp setting up a fire to make breakfast were so startled that they dropped the cleaned and gutted lamb to the ground and started scrambling, clutching their heads.
Bang—
Before the scream subsided, another mortar shell exploded in the camp.
The blast wave flipped over the control center's canvas roof; Colonel Kandar was tackled to the ground by two guards who rushed in, while his favorite mistress curled up in the corner, her fingers painted with bright red nail polish grabbing her hair as she let out a ghostly scream.
"Sir! Enemy discovered on the east side..."
The communications report was cut off by the explosion of another rocket, and the flickering tent lights cast twisted shadows on the violently shaking canvas.
Kandar struggled to get up, his uniform's front stained with spilled coffee.
He snatched the satellite phone from his mistress's hand, his knuckles turning white from exertion.
The screen displayed encrypted intelligence received over ten minutes ago—a warning from Major Jansen forwarded to him about the "Musician" Defense Company's involvement in the battle.
"Son of a bitch..."
He cursed through clenched teeth, his fingers frantically typing on the keypad.
Another burst of bullets pierced the tent, shattering the whiskey bottle on the table, glass shards scattering like diamonds onto the combat map.
The electronic tone when the call connected was a heavenly sound at this moment.
"Jansen! I fucking need support! Now! Immediately!"
Kandar's roar drowned out the constant gunfire.
He bent down, half-crouched like a desperate stray dog, his forehead sweat dripping onto the satellite phone's keyboard.
"The government army's counterattack is a decoy! Their real target is—"
A sharp whistle suddenly pierced the air.
Kandar reflexively ducked, watching helplessly as a two-meter diameter hole was blasted open on the tent's western side.
The morning sunlight penetrated the smoke, pouring into the tent, illuminating the scattered documents and the bullet-pierced "Infantry Tactics Manual"—a gift from the American military advisor last year.
"Kandar? Speak!"
Jansen's voice came from the receiver, with a clear hint of impatience.
The Colonel's gaze suddenly froze.
Through the hole in the tent, he saw a glint on the sand dune three hundred meters away—it was the cold glow of a sniper scope under the moonlight.
More terrifying, vaguely visible behind the dune were several gun posts, their muzzle flashes glaring even in the morning sun.
"They're here..."
Kandar's voice suddenly turned hoarse, his hand holding the phone starting to tremble uncontrollably, "That China man... Song Heping's people... they're on their side! They've infiltrated the back of the front line!"
Paper shuffling could be heard on the other end of the line; Jansen seemed to be checking some documents.
"Calm down, Colonel. My drones haven't detected any large-scale government army movements."
"Fuck your drones!"
Kandar suddenly flared up, kicking over the nearby ammunition box.
"Listen, Jansen! My command center is under attack by professional Special Forces! They used silenced weapons to pinpoint my sentries, used thermal imaging to locate all machine gun positions..."
A bullet suddenly zipped past his ear, leaving a smoking hole in the bulletproof panel behind him.
"—Fuck! They've surrounded my command post!"
Outside the tent, the dying screams of MLC soldiers resonated continuously.
Through the tattered canvas opening, two of his subordinates with guns frantically ran across the open ground, seemingly trying to reach the camp's perimeter to patch up the breached defenses.
But before running far, countless small bursts of dust and dirt erupted under their feet, and a mist of blood blossomed from their bodies, crashing into the roadside ditch like an out-of-control car.
Kandar felt a chill run up his spine — the gunfire came from all directions, as if enemy fire points were everywhere.
"Marlo! Marlo!"
He shouted loudly for the name of his guard company commander.
"I'm here!"
Kandar's confidant Marlo crawled in from the other side of the tent in disarray, likewise crouching down to crawl beside him like a dog.
"Colonel, we were ambushed! It's a tactical trap! The retreat an hour ago was a trap! Our main forces are up front, the rear is empty, their target is you!"
"I know!" Kandar's primary concern wasn't the issue; he grabbed Marlo by the collar and asked, "How many men do we have left?! Tell them not to panic, organize and build defenses, hold out! The American support will arrive soon!"