Chapter 8 Sweeping the Factory (Please Vote for Recommendation)

"Hey, you are"

Outside the garage door, two gunmen with rifles looked warily at the van stopped at the door.

"Bang! Bang!"

The gunshots with silencers were a bit muffled. The two gunmen were shot in the head and fell to the ground without saying a word. Alejandro held the pistol in both hands, tilted it slightly, and shot three more gunmen in the guard box. Putting the pistol back into the holster, he pulled out an M40A3 sniper rifle from the back seat. This was a military version of the Remington 700 shotgun, modified with a weighted stainless steel barrel.

He had to climb onto the roof of the garage, snipe at the gunmen in the blind spots and monitor the surrounding environment to discover the Reyes Group's reinforcements as soon as possible.

Broly walked to the door of the garage with a rifle in hand.

In a car repair shop, a group of women are making drugs. Their working environment is extremely harsh. The Reyes Group did not purchase any labor protection equipment for them. The hot air, toxic acid mist, choking smoke, and flickering high-pressure sodium lamps all harmed their health.

Because these women had inhaled too many toxic chemicals, their skin was horribly rough and covered with spots, their limbs were thin, their bodies were atrophied, and their demeanor was somewhat demented, as if they were walking zombies.

They are prisoners of this factory, trafficked by Reyes from all over the world, and work in the factory day and night. The oldest among them has not been exposed to the sun for three years, and the longer one is not dead, but was "cleaned" by the management because of illness.

There are several gunmen who supervise their work to prevent them from secretly sucking the finished product. Almost all of them are addicted to drugs because they have worked in drug factories for a long time.

The remaining gunmen were in the three offices of the garage. Most of them were wearing floral shirts, and some were shirtless, showing tattoos on their arms. The air-conditioning in the office was on full blast, and the gunmen were drinking ice-cold whiskey and holding cigars while playing cards. Rolls of U.S. dollars were placed on the card table.

"boom!"

An unparalleled force ripped the iron door of the office directly away from the door frame. The heavy iron door flew into a gunman and stuck him to the wall.

Broly walked in. When the gunmen saw someone suddenly breaking in, they were frightened and a little panicked.

A gunman tried to pick up a pistol on the card table and shoot, but was punched in the chest before he could pull the trigger. There was a crackling sound of broken ribs, a large piece of his chest was dented, and his internal organs were beaten to pulp.

He moved forward, punching one after another, killing more than ten gunmen in two seconds.

Some gunners who reacted quickly finally drew out their pistols and rifles and started shooting. Broly picked up his rifle and started shooting at them.

There was a burst of gunfire like exploding beans in the office. The whistling bullets punched holes one after another in the tables and chairs. The pierced whiskey flowed freely, and fragments of playing cards and dollar bills flew in the air.

Not long after, the gunfire suddenly became silent.

Accompanied by the sounds of several bottles being crushed and the sound of glass being rubbed against the floor tiles, Broly walked out of the office while carrying a bottle of whiskey and drinking. There were four or five bullet holes in his clothes, and there was just a blood spot on the skin inside. The bullets barely penetrated the skin.

He had already tested it beforehand. When rifles and pistols fired ordinary bullets, as long as they missed the vital point, they would only cause pain but no damage. Among light weapons, the only ones that could threaten him were sniper rifles and machine guns with higher energy.

Even so, he tried not to get hit by the bullets because it really hurt. The pain made him angry, and his fighting power began to surge.

"Quién estáahí?Quién es el enemigo?"

The gunshots in the office alerted the gunmen in other offices. They asked in Broly's direction as if they were facing an enemy.

"boom!"

A gunman who quietly pulled the handle of a grenade was suddenly shot in the head by a bullet fired from the attic. The grenade rolled to the ground. The remaining gunmen rushed out of the office. After only a few steps, they were killed by Broly. Shot to the ground.

He was like a hunter hunting rabbits during the hunting season, shooting at these gunmen who were running wildly. He would occasionally swing his rifle like a baseball, beating the gunmen who tried to charge forward to a physical pulp.

"Boring."

Broly put away his rifle, a little bored. As the legendary Super Saiyan, new power continuously pours out from deep within his body, making him even more powerful.

Facing such a gunman, he could no longer feel any joy in fighting.

[Ding, congratulations to the host for reaching level five and gaining a skill point]

[Ding, kill a hundred people. The successful Saiyan people will definitely have blood on their hands. The host has killed more than a hundred people in total. Twenty revival points will be awarded. Congratulations to the host for obtaining the skill Oolong Transformation]

? ? ?

Broly had a question mark on his face. This transformation technique with only five minutes of transformation time was really embarrassing. He might as well add some points and switch to Puer's transformation technique. At least there was no time limit.

Alejandro slid down from the roof with a sniper rifle on his back through the sling. He opened the office door with his fingers, took a look at the scene inside, and then looked at the shattered corpses on the ground.

"This scene is a bit too big and I can't handle it alone."

The corners of his mouth twitched, and several people's bodies were punched through with fists, and their flesh and internal organs were sprayed all over the floor. After hesitating for a moment, he took out an old mobile phone from his pocket and made a call.

"I'm Alejandro. It's a big party for 80 people. You guys are needed to clean up the scene." He sent the satellite coordinates.

Alejandro explained to Broly.

"This is a group of people who specialize in cleaning up the scene for the killer. They are very professional and very tight-lipped."

"What about those women?" Broly said, "I only kill soldiers, not ordinary people."

"We are wearing hoods, they didn't see anything, but if we let them go directly, they will definitely die. It's better to throw them to the Mexican police afterwards."

Alejandro said after a moment of hesitation. He carried a gun and drove the frightened women into the kitchen of the repair shop and locked the door.

They didn't wait too long, and there was a sound of propellers beating the air in the sky. A medium-sized transport plane landed on the dirt road outside the repair shop. A dozen people who were still wearing jackets on a hot day walked down from the plane. They also carried large and small bags of professional tools.

"Alex, you haven't contacted us for a long time."

An old man with gray hair but wearing a very stylish leather jacket took off his hat and gestured to Alejandro.

"When I work for the CIA, I don't need to do cleaning work at my own expense."

Alejandro said with some pain.

"The CIA doesn't do this job as cleanly and neatly as we do, Alex."

The old man said, snapped his fingers, and signaled his men to start working. Facing the scene that was obviously not caused by ordinary people, their faces did not change at all.

"To be honest, if I were a canner, I would have made a fortune long ago."

He looked at the corpses on the ground and whistled.

The meat scraps, internal organs and broken bones on the ground were swept into the body bags, and the bullets embedded in the wall were clamped out by tweezers, and the shells were swept into a pile. Fingerprints and bloodstains were wiped off with professional cleaning spray.

Not long after, rolls of bodies tied with tape were carried onto the plane.

Alejandro took out two rolls of gold coins from his pocket with a painful look on his face and handed them to the old man.

"Welcome to see me again next time."

The old man flicked his cigarette, took the gold coins, and sat in the plane in a cool manner.