Working as a police officer in Mexico

Colombia. Medellin Pablo Stadium!
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It was packed with over thirty thousand people, the noise was deafening!

Today is the match between the Nacional de Montevideo and Uruguay's Danubio F.C., with the former being an all-star team assembled by Pablo, including the Scorpion-style goalkeeper Ikita, the one with the explosive hair, the kind who'd use his feet when his hands would do just as well!

Just by the name, you knew who built this stadium~

The DJ on the field, holding a microphone, announced in the center of the football pitch, "Now, let's warmly welcome our honored guest, Mr. Pablo Escobar!"

The cameras hanging from the boom focused on a private box where Pablo, with a smile, waved at the camera, and this scene was displayed on the big screen in the stadium.

"Long live!!"

The stadium roared with cheers that were deafening, as everyone stood up screaming. Some even knelt in the aisles as if worshiping a deity.

This scene was simply mind-boggling, a big drug trafficker being worshipped like this?!

Of course, there was another reason.

Pablo announced that he would allocate 500 million US dollars every year to subsidize the poor in Medellin, intended for healthcare, education, and living expenses, and if solitary elderly people passed away, the North American Drug Syndicate would buy them graves to settle their afterlife matters.

This directly made his reputation rival that of Jesus!

In other places, who knows, but in Medellin, he was God!

And he also proposed to other members of the North American Drug Syndicate to "do some charity," as the people are the best Protection Umbrella.

Once the cameras were off, Pablo proudly said to his confidants in the box, "Even the President of Colombia kneels to me in Medellin!"

His lackeys, of course, kept up the bootlicking.

"Is the referee taken care of?" Pablo looked towards his right-hand man John Arias, this man was notorious!

The Medellin cartel's number one hitman, all major terrorist attacks in Colombia related to Pablo were basically planned by him, including the death of the presidential candidate Galan.

John Arias, with a youthful face, would never lead you to imagine that this baby-faced man was a cold-blooded killer. Hearing the boss's inquiry, he nodded, "It's settled with the referee, they took fifty thousand US dollars."

Since the semifinal was being held in Medellin, Pablo certainly didn't want to lose face.

Before the match, a group of armed individuals broke into the hotel rooms of the referees in the middle of the night.

They handed each official a briefcase filled with fifty thousand US dollars, telling them, "Your heads have a price."

Leading the group was the chief hitman John Arias.

In Medellin, even if Manchester United and Real Madrid were to compete, they'd have to lose, or the team from the Nacional de Montevideo would go home in coffins.

Pablo, very satisfied, patted John Arias on the shoulder, "Call the British betting company, place another two million, I'm betting on Nacional de Montevideo to win."

He loved gambling and women!

This ran through his life.

Two million US dollars, just a drop in the bucket.

Upon hearing his order, someone went to make arrangements with a phone in hand.

Meanwhile, the introduction segment below had ended, and with the referee's whistle, the game began.

The Danubio F.C. players seemed to be unaware of how to spell "death," as they began by pressing Nacional de Montevideo from the start, and at the 7th minute, a forward received a pass, didn't trap the ball, and beautifully executed a 25-meter volley!

Goalkeeper Ikita barely blinked, and the ball was in!

Pablo's expression stiffened, and with furrowed brows, he looked down at the cheering Uruguayans, clearly not very pleased.

"They've called it off! Boss, the goal is disallowed," said Ochoa sitting next to him.

Indeed, the referee below made a crossed hands gesture to indicate the goal was invalid—before the goal, there was a tug by a Uruguayan player?

Enraged, Danubio F.C. players rushed to confront the referee, and as a result, for pushing, one player was sent off with a red card!

Pablo softly clapped, smiling, "In Medellin, my rules are the rules!"

Ochoa nodded.

"Still, I'm not satisfied with this place, buddy. Medellin is too small. We blow up the Statue of Liberty and the Americans won't let it go, but they are now tied down by Iraq and don't have the capacity to retaliate. This is our opportunity to expand!"

Pablo's gaze stayed on the field, but he spoke of official matters, "We can't always be on the defense; offense is the best strategy."

As he spoke, the team from Nacional de Montevideo scored a goal!

However, it was clear that there was a handball in the box before the goal, yet the referee still ruled it as a goal, "Mexico is very close to the United States, that geographical location is critical. We must firmly hold it. When they declare war on us, we'll launch terrorist attacks inside the United States. I want to see if that idiot Old Bush has the guts to risk his life playing against me!"

"The negotiations with the Soviet Union about the R-14 intermediate-range ballistic missile, if they go well, we're going to ship them to the Mexican border! If he dares to mess with me, I'll strike back hard!" Pablo spoke with a maniacal tone.

A madman!

He was a complete madman.

But indeed, for desperados like drug traffickers, who care about world peace? They can't control their own paranoia.

They resort to violence at the slightest disagreement.

If the R-14 intermediate-range ballistic missiles really make it to the Mexican border, then who should be nervous? Victor would need to clench tight.

The NATO codename for it is SS-5 "Skean"!

With a range of 1000-3000 kilometers, from Mexico, you could hit Washington.