There are many goals to rediscover in this war-torn region.
Whether in the past or present, soldiers from special forces units harbor deep hatred for those rampant terrorists.
Armed with weapons, they attacked everywhere, wantonly plundering the civilians' remaining supplies.
They have no moral compass, they steal women and children, and kill men who cannot resist.
When doing business with the culprits who have broken countless families, there's no need to follow the rules.
Before choosing his first target, Eric first went to Mosul, the second largest city.
The security zones established by the US, UK, and France should have many familiar faces, so obtaining information about their outposts shouldn't be too difficult.
The following afternoon.
A small cafe in the city center.
In addition to the five Off-road Vehicle, there were three British armored vehicles and a dozen or so heavily armed soldiers outside.
"Captain, do you know their leader?"
Eric opened the car door from the back seat. "Don't fight, just wait for me to come back."
After he got out of the car, a middle-aged man in military uniform also got out of the armored vehicle.
The two went into the coffee shop, while they stayed obediently in the car.
Retired is retired, after all; those outside are all active duty.
"Why is the captain resorting to double-crossing all of a sudden?"
"It's all because of us." Melvin toyed with the rifle in his hand.
"If we close two or three more deals, we'll probably get back into the swing of things."
Compared to previous areas, the transaction prices here are significantly higher.
However, the corresponding risks will also be higher.
In a café with only two people.
"Long time no see, Eric."
"Hunter, it's been three years since we last contacted each other. So you've ended up in this lousy place."
"You are too." Hunter raised his cup and took a sip of coffee.
"What's wrong? Business's been slow lately?"
Eric sighed softly, "You should be able to receive news from back home even from here, right?"
Congress is discussing gun control, and it's estimated that it will be implemented within a few years.
Legal as it may be, fewer and fewer people will buy it.
"That's true." Hunter put down his cup, reached into the inside pocket of his uniform, took out a file folder, and placed it on the table.
"By the way, Vincent's in high school now, right? Is he going to Eton or Westminster?"
"Neither." Eric sighed again.
"You know this kid's personality. Once he decides to do something, not even nine oxen could pull him back."
Hunter nodded in agreement. "He's a lot like you in that respect. I still remember how dashing you were back then."
At the Eton graduation party that year, he watched Eric walk out of the school gate with his application to join the army.
Why?
Either finish college and inherit the family's buildings, or go somewhere that Grandpa Wayne can't find.
Perhaps it was out of aspiration, but Hunter, whose family owned a hotel, also joined the army after graduating from Cambridge.
At that time, Eric was already a member of the SAS Special Air Service).
"I was almost able to pass the physical fitness test..." Hunter kept repeating this until Eric retired.
"Heroic my foot! The old man severed ties with me more than ten years ago. If Vincent hadn't been born later, I guess he would never have seen me again before he died."
"Indeed, your husband's temper is even worse than mine."
Eric laughed heartily, "Let's not talk about these unhappy things. Have you found someone to marry yet?"
Hunter's face immediately darkened. "If I found it, would I still be staying in this godforsaken place?"
"Alright, good luck."
Given the current situation, it's estimated that withdrawal is still a long way off.
After a few lighthearted banter, the two began discussing their future plans.
"Just stay in the army until you die." Hunter flashed his captain's rank in his uniform.
"Tch~ Wait until you become a major general before you brag to me." Eric took a sip of his coffee.
"After I finish this business, I still need to go to France."
"Occupy Paris?"
He rolled his eyes. "Transformation, huh? I'm planning to acquire a car factory."
Which brand?
"Bugatti".
Hunter almost spat out the coffee he had just put in his mouth.
The global economy has been sluggish in recent years, but the traditional car market is doing alright.
The supercar market?
With the British pound and the Italy lira recently forced to withdraw from the Europe Exchange Rate Mechanism, the assets of the wealthy have shrunk by nearly half, making it impossible for them to squander money as freely as before.
"Good luck," he said, patting Eric's shoulder gently.
"If you can't make it here, come back. I'll save you a position as an adjutant."
"Step back a little, Captain McAlis is standing in front of you."
Hunter would swear to the Queen that he was only envious for a second.
"Do you still want the file?"
"At your age, you're still acting like a child," Eric said, but he put away the files with surprising speed.
"That's all for today. Remember to find me for a drink when you get back to China."
"Then you'd better save some money. I'm used to drinking the good wine at home, so don't try to get me some ordinary stuff."
Gamp's Vintage Social Brew... it shouldn't be considered an ordinary product.
"I promise you'll never forget this."
Hunter, his face filled with disbelief, walked out of the coffee shop alongside him.
There was no conflict, and both sides behaved well.
Eric got into the Off-road Vehicle and drove away under the watchful eyes of himself and the soldiers.
"Sir, should we go back?"
"Let's go back."
About 20 kilometers east of Mosul, there is a relatively small village.
Six months ago, a dozen terrorists occupied this place.
They controlled the entire village with weapons, and their status was almost equivalent to that of Allah.
However, by evening, it all came to an end.
As his first objective in regaining his rhythm, Eric led his men in a direct assault.
The AK-47, a favorite of terrorists, is highly lethal and inexpensive to manufacture, but unfortunately, its accuracy is always lacking due to its excessive recoil.
What took their lives was the FN-FAL— the SLR self-loading rifle.
Mass-produced in 1957, it is one of the three giants of the automatic rifle world, nicknamed "the right hand of the free world".
Those who used them were not ordinary soldiers.
An elite among elites, a former member of the Special Air Service (SAS).
Eric sat on the hood of an Off-road Vehicle, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.
He put the lighter he had taken out back, then raised his hand to look at his mechanical watch.
It's been almost three minutes, and it's still not over.
Just as they were about to go in to take a look, Hunt came over, supporting Melvin, who had an injured shoulder.
There is no room for sympathy on the battlefield, but they are not soldiers now.
"Captain, I saved three hostages!" Melvin had no regrets.
Terrorists left women behind to vent their anger, and children were brainwashed and turned into "human bombs."
In critical moments, they can also act as hostages.
"Well done!" Eric glanced at his watch again.
The gunfire stopped; it must be over.