Chapter 1471 - 479: Garbage Time_2

Chapter 1471: Chapter 479: Garbage Time_2

The frontline collapse was beyond repair, and they went madly fleeing into Havana city, cursing their parents for not giving them two more legs, losing countless valuable military assets along the way, but none of that was more important than their lives.

When the first wave of defeated soldiers finally rushed to Havana port, they saw it already crowded with people.

The pier was packed, as far as one could see, it was all restlessly anxious heads, but the docks were empty, with not a single Floating Ship left; only the airport had a few planes queued for eager boarding.

Everyone here wore faces of panic, mostly local drug dealers and recruitment henchmen, reluctant to abandon their businesses and escape to Europe with the nightmare, or hoping to stay behind to make a fortune alongside the Celestial Soldiers.

No one could have imagined the frontline would lose so quickly, after all, these were European Celestial Soldiers, how could they lose?

The previous defeats were just false propaganda from the opposition.

Self-hypnosis can be terrifying, sometimes you might never understand until you’re dead.

But now the frontline truly collapsed, and they were struck as if by lightning, terrified of the Cuban army and Horizon Mercenaries entering the city to settle the scores.

They knew better than anyone what they had done, and those debts couldn’t be repaid even with ten lives.

At this moment, these people were crowded in front of the planes, crying and pleading desperately.

"I’ll pay! I’ll pay! Please save me a spot!"

"Sir! Sir! It’s me, remember me? I’ve bled for Europe, I’ve contributed to Europe! Sir! Please, take me with you, I’ll be your dog!"

"I’ll give you my wife and daughter and my money too, I’ll sit in the cargo hold, the cargo hold is fine!"

Inside a transport plane, it was already packed with Europeans, many of whom came to Havana for business or disembarked from warships to control the city’s troops. Once they confirmed no more could fit, they were ready to close the door and take off.

The pilot stuck his head out from the cockpit, shouting at the soldiers blocking these people at the door.

"Close the door quickly, the plane is starting."

"I’d close it if I could!"

The soldiers cursed, forcefully pulling at the door, but these Cuban henchmen burst with incredulous strength, fingers clutching the door, refusing to let the soldiers close it.

"Damn it! Get out of here!"

An English soldier couldn’t take it anymore, punching a Cuban interpreter hanging onto the door, leaving a small dent in his forehead before the interpreter finally let go.

But it didn’t matter; the crowd continued to surge forward, trampling the interpreter into a bloody mess. His past bootlicking and ruthless acts against his compatriots did nothing to earn respect from these European masters at this moment, only seen as easily discardable BYT.

The pilot couldn’t wait any longer either, flooring the gas and firing up the engines, the plane took off vertically on the spot.

A few unlucky souls close to the engines were ignited, turning into screaming torches, prompting others to back off from the area.

Even as the plane ascended, these people wouldn’t give up, the ones in front clung fiercely to the landing gear, others grabbing their pants and legs, forming a chain of four or five people, truly astonishing.

To avoid falling, those on top kicked at the faces of those below, leaving them with mutilated face, eyes bursting.

Only when the ones below passed out did they finally let go, crashing down onto the crowd below.

No evil surpasses that found in the human heart.

But what good is hanging on the landing gear? As the plane climbed a thousand meters, you’ll either drop unconscious from fatigue, or get blown into oblivion by the wind, tumbling down to the earth as a human missile, or freeze into a corpse aloft, survival is impossible.

As one plane departed, the remaining desperate crowd surged toward the remaining planes, the blocking soldiers couldn’t take it anymore, drawing their guns at the crowd.

Rat-a-tat-tat!!

No warning shots needed, directly firing at the people.

Bullets tore through flesh, ripping blood and meat, the ones in the front being blown to bits, the infantry weapons used on cyborgs wouldn’t even leave you a whole corpse.

When blood splattered their faces, a large portion of the crowd immediately fell silent, no longer daring to take a step forward.

But this doesn’t mean everyone is afraid of these soldiers’ guns, because an increasing number of routed soldiers are entering the city, arriving at the port and airport, and they have guns just as good.

"Damn it, let us on!"

A British special forces team forcibly pushed through the crowd, rushing to confront the soldiers holding the entrance, the captain stepped forward to negotiate.

"I’m Sergeant Ulster from Ascent, my brothers need to board."

Facing the dark gun barrels, the defensive German soldiers still had the nerve to refuse.

"No, the plane is already full."

"Full?"

The captain didn’t believe it, he knew well these people’s conduct, didn’t he?

The cargo hold is likely stuffed with Gold, jewels, furs, and other expensive assets, there hasn’t been a shortage of looting these days.

"Let me go up and see."

"No! Captain Franz is inside."

The soldier continued to block the way, if he let people in, he’d surely be kicked off the plane.

The sergeant didn’t care about this nonsense, he knew those lunatics would soon enter the city, the sky is big, life is biggest.