Working as a police officer in Mexico

"Let us in! Let us in!"

"My child is in there, let us in."

A group of emotional parents of students stood outside while soldiers of the National Guard, fully armed, set up a barricade at the entrance and blocked them off with a human wall.

"You cowards! Give me a gun and get out of my way, I'll rescue them myself! My son is in there," a muscular man in a black T-shirt, his arms covered in tattoos, shouted angrily, his bushy beard swinging with his rage.

As he spoke, tears started to fall.

The National Guard soldiers facing him looked sympathetic, turning their heads to glance behind them, where they saw two black riot vehicles approaching, emblazoned with the word: Swat!

"Sir, your child will be saved!" a soldier said to the bearded man, patting his shoulder and pointing at the riot vehicles, "See that, General Victor has sent his most elite soldiers; he won't give up on any of his people."

The tone was fervent.

This SWAT unit represented the absolute elite within the National Guard, recruiting every six months from tens of thousands of police officers, undergoing political screening, physical and faith tests for a total of five weeks, with only those who passed qualifying for the reserve team.

In subsequent assessments, defeating a main team member would allow one to take their place, with the main team maintaining a constant 50 members!

As the riot vehicles came to a stop and the doors opened, a group of men disembarked, armed with M16s and wearing denim training pants and bulletproof vests.

Commander Swat looked intimidating, with fierce eyebrows and a cigarette dangling from his lips.

Before he could speak, one of his subordinates behind him said, "Boss, Omega A Team and 141, they've arrived."

Swat turned around and saw several police cars drive past the barricade, with many familiar faces alighting from them.

After all, they all belonged to the military, but there was competition between them.

The leaders of the various units glared at each other, none speaking first.

"I will be the commander of this mission," announced an officer bearing the rank of Major General, a long scar across his face and an eagle-eyed sharpness in his gaze, prompting the Special Forces leaders to straighten up as his eyes swept over them.

"Commander!" they called out in unison.

Major General Otto Skorzenny waved his hand; he now served as the commander of the Northern Mexican Alliance Special Forces Command, holding the rank of Major General!

In his youth, Skorzenny was the epitome of a troubled teenager—fearless and belligerent, engaging in almost every kind of mischief.

His favorite pastime was duels, and he even joined a school duel club. Skorzenny thrived there since the whole point was to have a beer and seek out duels.

Skorzenny participated in an astounding 14 duels, with the tenth leaving an arched sword scar on his face, a wound he would later flaunt with pride.

All beheading operations in the Northern Alliance's external wars were his responsibility.

He was known as the "Father of the Mexican Special Forces!"

"This is the school's map, take a look. According to headquarters' simulation, most students are being held in the large stepped classroom in the back, with the gunmen numbering 9 to 17, armed with AK47s."

"The main perpetrator is Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi."

"Here's his photo."

Major General Otto Skorzenny passed the photo, as a crowd gathered to look at it, they saw a big-bearded man with snake-like, triangular eyes.

"He's an extreme nationalist who had aligned with terrorist organizations over beliefs, organizing the 1983 Beirut Airport terrorist attack and assisting with the 1988 Lockerbie bombing, a very, very dangerous terrorist!"

"Infamous worldwide!"

"What we have to do is to kill him on Northern Mexico soil, belonging to General Victor, and put an end to these ugly deeds for good!"

Major General Otto Skorzenny looked at them, stirring up their emotions.

"What you need to do is burst into the classroom in a short time, take out the gunmen, and then bloom from the inside out."

"141 will handle ground infiltration, SWAT Second Squadron will conduct the aerial assault, and the rest will hold the perimeter."

Upon receiving Major General Otto Skorzenny's orders, the SWWE and Omega A Team became a bit agitated.

"Soldiers! Obedience to orders is your duty, any more squabbling and I'll have you all washing socks outside!"

Seeing him angry, the rest quickly retracted, but it was clear that Omega A Team and SWWE were not convinced.

Major General Otto Skorzenny gazed at the other squads designated for the attack, squinting his eyes, "Do you understand what it means if you fail?"

"The time has come for Mexico and General Victor to need us!"

"The whole world is watching you!"

"Mission will be accomplished!"

Major General Otto Skorzenny nodded slowly, lifting his head to look at the big gate, then glanced at the noisy crowd outside, frowning, "Have the Guard Corps disperse them all, including the journalists; do not allow any filming or broadcasting!"

"Most of them are parents," a subordinate whispered softly.

"And you're sure there are no accomplices among them? If those journalists broadcast our operation, how will we conduct the rescue?"

"Yes, sir!"

The perimeter guards who received the order started dispersing the onlookers. A female reporter wearing a yellow vest obviously just arrived, and as she was being pushed away, she screamed, "What are you doing! Are you forcing me? We have a right to know! Don't touch me, I'll sue you for haras…"