"Damn, Tom, they're probably gone!"

"Let's take care of ourselves first! Jerry!"

An DEA agent with a nose of an airplane was now wearing only a pair of large flowered pants and holding a P5 submachine gun in his hand, staring warily below.

I saw that there were already three immobile Medellin killers lying at the staircase on the third floor, and they all had an average of a dozen bullet holes.

This was left behind when they tried to break through the fourth floor, and the killers threw a grenade upstairs, and then waited for the grenade to explode and immediately rushed up, but when they jumped up the stairs and rushed into the fourth floor gate, they found that the grenade had not exploded at all.

The Americans upstairs had already run 108,000 miles away when the grenade pulled the ring, and the grenade had no success except to blow up the materials in the room and the television set.

And the Medellín killers who rushed upstairs just entered the crossfire zone of the other side, and although the DEA agents only had a few P5 submachine guns in their hands, it was enough to press them back.

The three people who rushed to the front ate a lot of bullets, and then fell to the ground due to inertia, and fell back down the stairs, and several killers behind the three were not injured because their legs were one step slower, except for the gray stained white head of the wall that was knocked down by the bullets.

"These damn Medellin killers, I knew I should have a sentry at night!"

"It's too late to say this, they've already killed us downstairs, now let's figure out how to get out!"

"Does the phone work, call the Colombian police!"

"No, the phone line has been cut too!"

"Where's the radio?"

"Radio ......"

One of the agents looked at his desk, where three square boxes stacked side by side were crackling with electric sparks, and by the light of flashlights, everyone could see the cratered shells that had been pierced by shrapnel.

As for the mobile phone, when they are on duty, in order to prevent leakage, the phone must be kept in the office on the third floor, so now, the agents of the Drug Enforcement Administration have no way to call for help.

"Residents in the neighborhood should have called the police, right?

"Do you think those cops are coming?"

The agent, known as Jerry, put on a coat and motioned for his men to take the radio away.

"Let's see if these three can be repaired, whether everyone can survive or not, it's all up to you!"

Soon the logistic personnel stepped forward to take the radio station away for repairs, while others continued to strengthen the defense at the staircase, they opened all the arsenals on the fourth, fifth and sixth floors, took out the weapons and body armor inside, and then began to throw debris at the staircase in an attempt to block the staircase.

From time to time, the killers fired a few shots at the staircase, or managed to throw another grenade at it.

But it didn't interfere with the reinforcement of the DEA agents, but made the other party speed up, and soon the stairs were blocked by sofas and bed frames, and even the DEA agents also threw down the beds and other things, blocking the stairs with water.

"In this way, they won't be able to get on for a while!"

As soon as Jerry said this, he felt the world turned upside down, and it was even darker in front of him, until a few minutes later, he was dragged to safety by his teammates, and then he woke up.

"What happened?"

"Those guys, they blew up the hallway with explosives! Tefi and Butch are already hanging!"

"Damn!"

Jerry struggled to get up, but found that he had a burning pain in his body, especially the bones in his chest, and the stinging pain made his eyes black, and he almost fainted again.

"Your ribs are broken, and your head is hit with a rock, be careful!"

"Got it!"

With the support of his teammates, Jerry, who sat up in front of him, found that he had come to the sixth floor, and more than half of his teammates were left, and many of them were injured.

And at this moment, the detectives can't even hold the sixth floor, and the killers' grenades and flashbangs are thrown up as if they don't want money, even if

Many agents are hiding in other rooms and are about to be tortured and go crazy.

And the detectives didn't have any explosives in their hands at all, and even the charge *** was almost exhausted.

"Hasn't the radio been fixed yet?"

"There's a problem with the circuit, I'm trying to figure it out!"

"By the time you think of a way, the brothers will be dead!"

Jerry struggled to his feet, urging the logistics to speed up the action while helping his teammates to reach the attack, but at the moment he was half-crippled and could not do anything at all, but he could only be an unknown reloading machine on the sidelines.

Because they don't have any debris to block the staircase now, they can only keep firing and suppressing, although there are still a lot of 9mm bullets, but these bullets are in bulk and must be pressed into empty magazines.

And while Jerry was working hard, a grenade thrown from downstairs smashed into the wall on the sixth floor, and then bounced at his feet, although he was injured, Jerry's movements were still flexible, he flew out, grabbed the grenade and threw it out of the window.

As soon as the grenade flew out of the window, it exploded, and the shrenchnel did not hurt Jerry, but the shock wave of the explosion still blacked his eyes again.

Then, there was another sound of a heavy object falling to the ground, and this time it was a flashbang that flew in.

Jerry looked at the flashbang that was close at hand, and it was too late to pick it up and throw it back, so he could only shout to alert his nearby teammates, while he himself curled up and covered his ears and closed his eyes, trying to resist the next explosion with his back to the flashbang.

Then, the flashbang exploded, releasing a blinding glow, and with it a loud sound.

The sound of 180 decibels, as if someone had slapped him on the head with a shovel, made Jerry immediately begin to be in a trance, the scene in front of him was illusory, and there was no sound in his ears except for sharp tinnitus, and it was difficult for him to even stand up.

And just a few seconds after the explosion, a heavy iron plate appeared at the top of the staircase, and with this improvised bulletproof shield, the killers of Medellín finally attacked the sixth floor.

By the time Jerry came to consciousness again, there was already a grinning Mexican in front of him, holding a G3 automatic rifle in his hand, looking at Jerry and saying.

"Ha, American green hair, I didn't expect to end up like this today, right?"

Jerry tried to touch the pistol that was lying nearby, but the next second the pistol was kicked away, and the Mexican stepped on his hand, then raised the butt to Jerry's head.

This blow directly made Jerry's eyes blush, and he could feel the blood flowing down his head without the slightest strength to resist, but it was difficult for him to raise his hands at the moment, so he could only watch himself being dragged away by the other party.