Spy Wars: I am the Captain of the Military Police

Iron Hammer quickly threw a smoke bomb, and the corridor was instantly shrouded in grayish-white smoke.

Makarov and Sickle used smoke as cover and employed alternating advance tactics, with one moving and the other providing cover.

Makarov crawled low to the corner, with Sickle crouching behind him as a watchful eye.

As the guard squad fired blindly through the smoke, Makarov leaned out and took down the two nearest enemies with two short bursts of his MP40 before retreating.

Sickle then leaned forward, and with a few short bursts from his automatic rifle, shot down the soldier who was trying to lay down his gun to fire the grenade launcher.

The two coordinated as naturally as breathing, quickly resolving the battle without sustaining any injuries.

Matsui Iwane's personal guards finally put up an effective resistance three minutes later.

About twenty elite guards formed a temporary defensive line in front of the command post, and two Type 11 light machine guns formed a crossfire network, temporarily hindering the team's advance.

"Winter Wolf, machine gunner," Makarov gave a brief order.

"Target locked," Winter Wolf responded from the end of the corridor, clearly seeing the sweat on the machine gunner's forehead through the 4x scope.

A crisp gunshot rang out, and the first machine gunner fell backward.

The assistant gunner had just taken over the handgun when the second bullet arrived.

This precise long-range sniping demonstrates the tactical essence of "eye-gouging and paralysis" in special operations, which is to prioritize eliminating the enemy's key firepower points.

The gunfire subsided, and the smoke slowly settled.

Makarov surveyed the battlefield: his squad had suffered no casualties, at most only minor abrasions.

On the ground lay at least thirty Japanese soldiers' corpses, more than half of whom were officers and non-commissioned officers, killed by precise shots.

Shell casings were scattered everywhere, but almost all of them came from the squad's side, and the Japanese counterattack was disorganized and ineffective.

Inside the command post, the remaining staff officers trembled with fear. Some tried to destroy documents, some ran around like headless flies, and some shouted into the phone, begging the guards to come and protect them.

The corridor outside the command post had been turned into a blood-soaked passageway.

Makarov left two team members behind, a demolition expert codenamed "Vodka" and a medic codenamed "Caviar," to set up an ambush at the corner of the passage.

They quickly set up MG34 light machine guns and used their personal explosive packs to set up booby traps. The explosions and the roar of the machine guns instantly engulfed the surging Japanese guards.

Makarov, along with Hammer, Sickle, and Red Star, advanced in a wedge formation. The flickering firelight reflected in the lenses of each member's gas mask made them look like demons emerging from hell.

The once orderly operations room in the command center had descended into chaos.

As the first grenade exploded and echoed through the dome, staff officers also attempted to burn classified files in filing cabinets.

"Clear all resistance! Leave no one alive!" Makarov's roar was icy and devoid of any human emotion. His MP36 submachine gun spat fire, bullets sweeping across any moving target in his field of vision like the scythe of death.

Indiscriminate killing has begun.

This is a professional executioner crushing a terrified lamb awaiting slaughter.

The personnel in the command post, from the white-haired senior staff officers to the young communications soldiers, were powerless against the well-trained professional assassins.

However, Makarov's squad's killing efficiency far exceeded their reaction speed.

Iron Hammer's MP36 submachine gun swept across the office area at a rate of 500 rounds per minute. Bullets pierced through paper maps and tea sets, leaving the clerical staff who were tearing up documents in a bloody mess.

The sickle, on the other hand, was designed to kill targets wearing officer epaulets. His 7.92mm rifle bullets always penetrated precisely into the eye socket or temple, a technique he had honed.

The most terrifying weapon was the MG34 machine gun operated by Red Star.

When more than ten guards attempted to organize a counterattack using sandbag fortifications, he directly switched to a 75-round drum magazine for suppressive fire.

Ricochet bullets flew between the walls, slicing off half of Major General Yoshiharu Takeshita's head, the Chief of Operations of the Central China Expeditionary Army.

When blood splattered onto the Nanjing defense map on the wall, Kobayashi Koichi, Matsui Iwane's most trusted communications officer, was so frightened that he lost control of his bladder and collapsed onto the blood-soaked French carpet, convulsing.

Makarov's face contorted with an almost gleeful savagery.

He specifically "took care of" those with high military ranks.

A lieutenant colonel who was holding a saber and trying to resist was hit hard in the face by Makarov with the butt of his rifle. His nose collapsed and blood gushed out. Then his Adam's apple was smashed by the butt of his rifle, and he convulsed in pain as he suffocated.

Another obese general, wearing the rank of major general, was hiding under the table; he was likely the logistics director.

When Makarov discovered him, he was so terrified that he soiled himself and raised his hands to beg for mercy.

Makarov sneered, but instead of firing, he slowly and precisely pierced the officer's carotid artery with his bayonet, watching him bleed to death in despair, as if enjoying the sense of power to decide the life and death of a high-ranking officer.

Makarov's eyes were cold, yet his movements carried a cruel elegance, as if he were not killing, but creating a bloody work of art.

The killing continued.

Senior staff officer Colonel Kazuo Horiba had just drawn his sword when Makarov struck him repeatedly in the knee and elbow with a captured Nambu Type 14 pistol. This deliberate avoidance of vital points was clearly intended to prolong the prey's suffering.

Looking at his subordinates groaning on the ground, Matsui Iwane's aide-de-camp, upon discovering that the attackers had Soviet Russian faces, screamed in Russian, "We are prisoners of war! According to the Prisoners of War Convention..." Before he could finish speaking, Red Star's machine gun had riddled him with bullets.

Amidst this bloody chaos, Major General Iinuma Mori, Chief of Staff of the Central China Expeditionary Army, demonstrated his survival instincts.

Unlike the others, he did not panic, but calmly observed the pace of the massacre.

As Makarov's attention was drawn to the resistance fighters, Iinuma Mamoru gave a wink to his deputy chief of staff, Colonel Uemura Toshimichi, and several key staff officers.

Taking advantage of the chaos and human shield created by the massacre of their comrades, they quickly retreated to the flank of the command post.

A trusted guard quickly pushed aside the iron shelf filled with miscellaneous items, revealing the narrow secret passage behind it.

Iinuma Mamoru took one last look back at this hell on earth, a complex light flashing in his eyes—was it despair, shame, or perhaps a hint of relief?

Without hesitation, he disappeared into the darkness, followed closely by Toshimichi Uemura and two other senior officers.

"Boss, on the right, three or four rats have slipped out the back door. The leader looks like a big fish."

Makarov had just killed an officer who attempted close combat with his dagger when he heard the report, and merely glanced indifferently in that direction.

You could even hear hurried footsteps fading away from inside.

“Ignore him.” Makarov’s voice was completely calm as he switched to a new magazine: “Our target is Matsui Iwane. Small fry, let him get away.”

Makarov saw it clearly, but he just sneered and ignored it.

At this moment, Makarov was like a forensic doctor dissecting a corpse, intently peeling away every trace of resistance from the command structure.