At the same time, General Nasser, who was far away in the Mehran base camp, was sitting in his office in the underground shelter, irritably sucking on the almost burned out cigarette in his hand, his face so gloomy that he was almost dripping with water.
Because his spy in New Baghdad brought him very bad news.
A few days ago, Amadana's transport aircraft unloaded thousands of Zoeys at the airport, and the freight train at the station contained countless main battle tanks and armored vehicles wrapped in black tarpaulins. Many of them have been moved to warehouses, and the exact number is unclear.
Based on past experience, General Nasser expected that the number of tanks and infantry fighting vehicles would not exceed 150, which together with Zoey would be all the equipment needed for a synthetic armored brigade.
But what does it matter?
Regardless of whether the opponent comes from an armored brigade, an armored regiment, or an armored battalion, the outcome is the same. The Renaissance Front, which is extremely short of advanced anti-armor weapons, has no chance other than being crushed in front of the torrent of steel in the new century.
Nasser put out his cigarette butt in the already full ashtray at hand.
You should know that he had just successfully quit smoking not long ago, but the huge pressure brought by Armadanax forced him to take a few puffs to distract himself from his excessive concentration.
He didn't understand why the good Amadana suddenly wanted to take action on him. If Amadana took action, what would be the attitude of Elysian Space and the North American Alliance behind them towards him? Will the Star Group also follow?
Thanks to the powerful computing power of the Star Hub, Harland secretly sent the equipment required for offensive preparations to the designated location in batches. With the help of the half-hearted intelligence personnel of the Renaissance Front, they did not realize that the Star Group was the coming storm. source.
Fortunately, Haaland did a good job of keeping secrets, otherwise Nasser would not have even the slightest thought of struggling. He would just quickly let his men go their separate ways, while he fled to the Pan-Asian Alliance incognito with all his belongings. Stability Live the rest of your life.
Nasser, who was in the dark, thought about it and came up with a possibility.
Amadana Company wanted to launch a new product but no one was interested in it, so they used the Renaissance Front as a practical target and a gimmick to show their strength to customers.
"What a great Amadanai, how deceptive he is!"
Nasser, who thought he had grasped the key point, gritted his teeth and pulled out the dagger, and nailed it to the location of New Baghdad on the map. The tip of the knife was drawn all the way to the Baidra-Mehran area, and the tabletop was scratched with a strange and strange crunching sound. Infiltrate people.
But the next second he suddenly calmed down - these ignorant capitalists want to establish themselves and the Renaissance Front, then they must be prepared to shed blood!
If it is just a combined armored brigade, the Renaissance Front is not without the power to fight, but many people will die, many, many people...
Just when Nasser frowned and thought about how many holy warrior lives it would take to close the equipment gap between the two sides, one of his confidants knocked on the door and brought him some unknown news.
After learning about the situation of the Renaissance Front, a mysterious force that did not want to reveal its identity decided to generously donate a batch of advanced weapons and equipment to them, including a considerable number of anti-armor weapons.
As long as the Al-Nath Front can hold out for two to three days in Amadanai's offensive, the first batch of equipment will appear at a to-be-determined coordinate on the outskirts of Mehran waiting for the jihadists to receive it.
Regardless of whether the news was true or false, Nasser felt that his spirit was indeed lifted, as if he had the courage to fight Amadana for 300 rounds in an instant.
After asking his confidants to convene a meeting with his "generals", Nasser returned to the bathroom of his office and grinned in the mirror.
The mirror reflected Nasser's smile that was worse than crying. A long and narrow scar slanted across the thick lip from the right cheek, just like the crack he made on the map, it was extremely ugly.
This scar was left on a mission when he was still serving in the special forces of the Middle East Alliance. All his teammates who performed the mission with him died in a foreign country. Only he escaped with his superb lurking skills.
After returning to the motherland after going through all kinds of difficulties and dangers, he did not get the flowers, applause and treatment that a hero deserves. But he didn't care, and he didn't want the honor that was exchanged for the lives of his comrades.
Just when he returned to his hometown with scars all over his body and wanted to spend the rest of his life with some of the pension he had accumulated during the operation, his former superior came to the door with more than a dozen fully armed soldiers and wanted him to Previous action "Shut up forever".
Nasser smiled in the face of many people who wanted to take his life.
Hearing the sneer of his superiors and the low sound of gunfire from the silencer, he seemed to be back when he was performing tasks for the country, but this time he was doing it for himself and his dead comrades.
The final outcome was beyond everyone's expectation, including Nasser, and he won.
The beast-like fighting instinct and cold heart allowed Nasser to kill all the killers with almost no injuries, and left the double-story wooden house that had been turned into ruins with his savings.
The wooden house he built with his late wife holds many memories, but it turns out that when a man's desire for revenge reaches its peak, there is nothing he can't give up.
No more compromise, no more weakness.
From a little-known retired special forces soldier to a great leader in the eyes of the entire 100,000 holy warriors of the Renaissance Front, Nasser has experienced a lot and abandoned a lot.
Looking at myself in the mirror, the gold-plated general stars on the shoulders of the khaki military uniform have become mottled under the gnawing of time, revealing the copper lining. The tall and muscular figure he once had was no longer there, and his short brown hair was more than half gray.
Maybe this is his last battle, Nasser suddenly had this thought in his mind.
In order to avenge his country, he had to rely on religious brainwashing to gather the abnormal product of the Renaissance Front. For more than twenty years, he had been worried about his decision and could not sleep at night.
Maybe everything will come to an end, his twenty years of violence and madness.
Taking one last look at the middle-aged man who was still grinning in the glasses, Nasser punched the center of the mirror, completely shattering the already cracked mirror and causing cuts by sharp fragments falling like raindrops. He grabbed his hand, and red blood flowed out.
Allowing his blood to drip into the pool and flow into the filthy sewer, Nasser had only one thought left in his mind.
Regardless of victory or defeat, let’s fight to the death!
...
At dawn the next day, residents around the train station in Dehloran, a medium-sized city south of Baidra, clearly noticed that the station was much quieter than before.
Some residents who came out for morning exercise yawned and tightened their warm clothes when they saw the white breath exhaling from their mouths.
This winter is much colder than usual, perhaps because of some phenomenon mentioned by a certain expert that I saw on TV.
But when they passed by the edge of the station as usual, several heavily armored Zhuoyi, covered in black and with ferocious faces, stopped in front of them. There was an obviously newly arranged checkpoint behind the robot.
Just when the morning exercisers were either curious or dissatisfied and wanted to find the person in charge of the checkpoint to understand the situation, an officer wearing a fourth-generation and a half exoskeleton came out of the checkpoint box.
While many morning exercisers were whispering about the red star on the black background that they had never seen before on the officer's armband, the young officer took out a wartime directive issued by the new Baghdad City Government from his pocket and patiently read it to everyone.
"This directive was issued by the New Baghdad Municipal Government. Starting from December 1, 2154, all affairs along Suaira, Dehloran and other cities will be managed by the Star Group security forces. The management will follow the end of the war in the New Baghdad Municipal Government. Until the current state."
"The specific reasons are confidential. I forgive my inconvenience to disclose them. Please go home."
"You can't do this. This is the territory of the Middle East Alliance. You, the lackeys of the North American Alliance, should get out!"
One "patriot" yelled while picking up stones on the ground and trying to throw them into the officer's face.
"boom!"
The officer drew out the electromagnetic pistol from his chest at lightning speed, and the dull sound of gunfire struck the hearts of the protesters like a heavy hammer.
"Please go home! I promise you this."
"Huhuhu..."
Just as the officer's voice became stern with the gradually biting cold wind, the roar of a high-speed train came from the train station. Through the fence of the station, a long silver-white train could be seen speeding through the station. Although I don’t know what the purpose of this strange-looking train is, it can be seen from the cannon barrels on it that it is not for peace.
"We come for peace."
The officer turned his head and glanced at the armored train that was accelerating away from the station. The cold expression on his face melted away, and he smiled and said to the frightened morning exercisers.
"If nothing else happens, the wartime status will be lifted soon."
