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Summary
Laswell’s op order said no heavy weapons indicated. Then a missile tears 141’s bird out of the sky.
They hit the ground in pieces—Soap bleeding and concussed, Gaz on a bad knee, Price dragging them through a killbox, and Ghost alone on the flank, carving through hitters who move like black‑file operators, not cartel muscle. The route was wrong. The intel was thin.
Somebody set them up.