Working as a police officer in Mexico

"Kill my civilians, it's like killing my parents!"

On TV, Victor's voice was deafening!

The office of the mayor of Guadalajara, Jalisco.

El Mencho was holding a bowl, spooning food vigorously into his mouth, the greenish liquid seeping out of the corners, resembling a zombie from a horror movie.

It was actually mashed cacti.

North Americans eat in such strange ways.

Standing next to him were gunmen, and four people were kneeling across the desk.

One of them was curled up like a maggot.

This was none other than the Mayor of Guadalajara, Abufei Mahabubu, along with his wife and two young children.

El Mencho took a sip of Pepsi, shifted the handgun from the table, wiped his mouth with a US Dollar bill, and watched the TV.

"This Victor, he's acting so damn well," he suddenly burst out laughing.

The lackeys around him followed suit with awkward laughter.

"What are you laughing at?" El Mencho turned and asked sharply.

The lackey's face froze, panic in his eyes, "Boss... boss..."

"What right do you have to laugh at a Mexican Governor? Get out!"

Humiliated, the lackey ducked his head and scurried out.

There was definitely something wrong with El Mencho's mind; when Victor called him "despicable" on television, he wasn't even angry but found Victor temperamental, more straightforward than those hypocritical Mexican politicians!

Sometimes the underlings thought the boss had a thing for Victor's guts.

Forget that heroes respect heroes crap.

You're a damn drug trafficker, what kind of hero are you?

"Mr. Mayor, are you planning to leave Guadalajara? Your staff says you wanted to go north?" El Mencho leaned forward on the desk with a smile and asked.

Mayor Abufei Mahabubu struggled to look up, glancing at the staff member standing next to El Mencho, who was overwhelmed with fear and guilt, hanging his head, not knowing what to do. Enjoy exclusive adventures from My Virtual Library Empire

He had betrayed his friend of many years!

"Isn't Guadalajara good? Whatever Victor has, we have here."

Perhaps realizing he was not going to make it, Abufei Mahabubu sat up with difficulty, his eyes bloodshot, "Good? Addicts everywhere, drugs on the streets, children with no hope, what's good here?"

"Is it good for the tons of drugs? Or for the rampant drug traffickers? Or for the bastards who sell human organs!"

"How can you compete with Victor? You're not even worth the hairs on his legs! You are a despicable drug trafficker!"

Abufei Mahabubu's voice began to rise.

"You've darkened the skies! You've stolen Mexico's future…"

Bang!

The gun fired!

Abufei Mahabubu, clutching his chest, collapsed on the floor, with his wife and children crying out and rushing to him.

"You're right, but I don't like to hear it."

El Mencho's face was grim, the barrel of his gun still smoking.

He considered himself one of the "Mexican Hegemons," and it made him angry to be belittled compared to Victor. Frowning, he suddenly turned his head to the staff member, "What do you think!"

The man swallowed hard, having betrayed his best friend, he had no moral ground left. Glancing at the barrel of the gun, he quickly gave a thumbs-up, "Victor is nothing compared to you, sir!"

"Once you become the mayor, Guadalajara will definitely be better than Tijuana!"

El Mencho's expression eased slightly at these words. He pointed to Mayor Abufei Mahabubu's widow, eyes glittering, "Take care of them!"

"You know how to kill, don't you?" he suddenly asked but then shook his head, "You bureaucrats are much crueler killers than drug traffickers."

"Make it clean, don't mess up my election."

As El Mencho walked out the door, he still glanced at the mayor's corpse.

What a piece of crap mayor!

If you don't obey, you need to be taught a lesson!

In Jalisco, he was the "Emperor." As he walked out the door, he said to his trusted aide, "Those idiots from Sinaloa are too useless. Get our guys to teach the Northerners a lesson!"

"Let Culiacán get messier!"

Hmm...

The last one to underestimate the Northern Soldiers was probably Guzman's old-school drug lords. Now Aguilar from Juarez has quieted down, Ambrege from Gulf Group has briefly disappeared, and Guzman is "visiting" Jalisco.

The true face of a drug trafficker has to be upheld by oneself!

He wanted the name El Mencho to become the top banner against the "Northern Army" moving southward!

"Big brother, should we do something big?" his deputy asked quietly.

"What do you have in mind?"

"Perform a comprehensive assassination on all the officials of the Northern Governorship! From the grassroots to the top-level, as long as people are moving in Tijuana, it's impossible to stop our guys from infiltrating!"

"It'll scare the hell out of them when the time comes."

That's the ambition of a drug trafficker.

But it was indeed effective.

Millions in Tijuana, what does that mean?

Smugglers, refugees, American tourists, and so on, Victor has already issued the "Management Plan for the Mobile Population." Every outsider coming to Tijuana had to report to the local authorities.

And get an identification card.

If you don't have this ID, sorry, you'll just go have a drink.

But there were loopholes.

Many scalpers started selling "identification proofs."

The world is vast, and there are always those who are not afraid to die. They would rather be beaten to death than die of poverty.

An identification proof was being sold for 300 US dollars. For those whose identity shouldn't be made public, are you going to buy it?