Working as a police officer in Mexico

A man who didn't look handsome or attractive, but his eyes were as flat as a pool of water.

Ethan Hunt was the chief; he was the one who called the shots, and there was no conflict in that.

He was more like a shadow standing beside Victor, protecting him.

"I think I should have some work to keep me busy now," Victor said with a smile, looking at Cuauhtémoc.

…

Sinaloa State, Capital Culiacán!

A group of drug traffickers stormed into a local supermarket, and the security guard hurried to flee but was shot dead from behind by the traffickers!

The civilians, upon hearing the gunshots, were terrified and tried to run.

But the drug traffickers pulled down the shutter and brandished their weapons at them!

The drug lord burst into the manager's office, scaring the other party into raising his hands and shouting, "Don't shoot, we've already paid this month's protection money."

"Don't worry, sir, we're just going to have you show a film, we won't hurt any of the customers, but... if you don't cooperate, I'll cram a grenade into your mouth!"

The manager had no way to resist and could only do as he was told.

Suddenly, Arturo's face appeared on the large supermarket screen that was hanging up.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm terribly sorry to interrupt your time, I just want you to watch a video clip," he said.

All the customers looked up to see on the screen, a group of armed militants bursting into a police station, dragging several men out, and from their conversation, it seemed there was even a town mayor.

"Chop off his head, I don't like him!" a cold male voice said from off-camera, and then Arturo was seen raising the knife and chopping off a man's head

"Ah!"

Many female customers let out cries of shock, hurriedly lowering their heads, not daring to look any longer, leaning into their husbands' arms.

The video scrolled down, showing the town mayor being dragged to death by a pickup truck, and then hung on a street lamp, with the setting sun's afterglow shining upon him.

The body slowly swayed.

The camera also stopped abruptly at this moment.

"This is the mayor of Leavenworth Town, who planned to betray Mr. Guzman, an act of idiocy. Mr. Guzman wants to remind everyone that Mexico belongs to Sinaloa, belongs to Guzman!"

After the video finished playing, the drug lord patted the manager's face with his gun, laughing and saying, "Thanks for your cooperation!"

On the way out, he didn't forget to help himself to a pack of cigarettes.

The manager slumped into his chair, his body covered in sweat, wiping his forehead.

The supermarket was not the only target; drug traffickers stormed into TV stations, government agencies, and even schools, circulating this short film in the states controlled by the Sinaloa Group.

Everyone was frightened by Guzman's methods.

A Canadian journalist even said on a show that same evening that it was an inhumane act, and called Guzman a devil.

Then…

He was shot dead on his way home with 17 bullets.

That was in Canada.

Such was the arrogance of the Sinaloa Drug Cartel.

Mexicali. Security Department.

Victor, Casare, Alejandro, and others had watched the short film, and hearing the young man's cries before his death, they felt deafened!

They turned their gaze to the boss.

Victor's expression was very grave, "Our comrade has been sacrificed."

"But he shall not have died in vain!"

"Randomly pick one of Guzman's sons, kill him!"

Jason Bourne took note on the side; the Grim Reaper had already begun marking, just waiting to see which son would be unlucky.

"Gentlemen, we need to speed up, Mexico is full of wails, we have to go save them. I propose starting today, all male citizens of Mexicali, Dan Senada City, and Guadalupe Island over the age of 18 undergo military training, six days a month, and no institution is allowed to impede it,"

"And each person is to be given a salary subsidy of 6 US dollars a day."

Universal conscription, huh!?

This proposal was so startling that Alejandro even stammered, "This..."

"Don't worry, I've named the plan: the Strong Body Movement. Encouraging young people to be fit and healthy, what's wrong with that?"

No matter what, as long as it's given a high-sounding name, it's legal.

Worst comes to worst, we can call it military training.

What can we do if the big shots in Mexico City don't agree?

Seeing Victor speak like this, Alejandro understood that whatever he advocated would be in vain and obediently shut his mouth.

"Our propaganda department needs to create momentum for Mr. Cuauhtémoc. When he returns to Mexico City, he will initiate the impeachment of Carlos, and by then I want to see slogans calling for Carlos to step down everywhere!"

"Including in front of the Presidential Palace."

"That will require a substantial amount of money," Casare stated frankly.

"Don't be stingy; we'll get much more later."

"Carlos is backed by the Aragon Family; they control all the TV stations and newspapers in Mexico. It might be very difficult to bypass them," Alejandro said softly.

If you want to take down your opponent, you must know who stands behind them, right?

Just hearing the surname Aragon, you can understand their former glory, or perhaps their roots with Spain. It is rumoured that the royal family has been controlling Mexico's wealth through this family.

Just like the Brits giving up many colonies but supporting puppets to speak on their behalf.

Mexico was once a colony of Spain.

Victor narrowed his eyes, "They're not fools. Seeing that Carlos is about to fall, perhaps they are already desperately seeking a new partner. Maybe, before long, we can become comrades in the same trench."

Families are just like that, I'll side with whoever has the stronger fist.

They stand untoppled, all thanks to their ability to see where the wind blows.

"Mr. Cuauhtémoc is our most important banner!"

And at that moment, in a heavily guarded mansion.

This was the place Victor provided for Mr. Cuauhtémoc and his family to settle in.

"Do you want to hear a bedtime story?" he asked, looking at his son McClure lying in bed, touched his forehead with a smile.

"I want to hear 'Hero Victor'!"

Cuauhtémoc was taken aback, looking at his wife holding a book, "Is this some new story?"

"Santos told me about it," McClure, wearing his pajamas, leapt from the bed, his eyes shining. "Santos said Mr. Victor is a hero who saved Mexico, he defeated drug traffickers entrenched in Guadalupe Island!"

"He threw those drug traffickers into the sea to feed the sharks."

"He hung them from bridges, pointing at the drug traffickers he told people, 'This is the fate of a drug trafficker!'"

"They are singing songs about him!"

McClure waved his hands and shouted, "Hey! Mr. Victor!"

Cuauhtémoc's scalp tingled and he looked at his wife, hugged McClure, and said with a serious face, "Do you really think what he's done is right?"

He felt a strong sense of personal worship.

This might be attributed to "charm," but it also transcends "charm"!

"I asked Santos, too."

"What did he answer?"

"He said, we don't have to be bullied by drug traffickers, we have our own house, we can move around at night, we can enjoy our happiness; Mr. Victor is just right!" McClure imitated Santos's words.

"Father, isn't that what you hope for?" McClure asked curiously, looking at him.

Cuauhtémoc looked up, heaving a long sigh.

Mexico...

Has welcomed a true strongman!