Working as a police officer in Mexico

Svet was an ordinary police officer at the Tijuana local police station.

But he was also a member of a local society called "Pescador mexicano," which was not about fishing, but rather a rather extreme Drug Enforcement Organization.

There are many such organizations in the Latin American region, with strong connotations.

For example, the Aryan Brotherhood in the United States advocates for white supremacy.

The organization had about seven members, all of whom had deep vendettas against drug traffickers. It wasn't that they didn't plan on recruiting more people, but this was Tijuana.

One and a half out of every three people were involved in drug trafficking.

The half were the undecided ones, swayed by whatever was in their best interest. If the money was right, they could also be members of a Drug Enforcement Organization.

To prevent accidents, they rarely took in new members.

Their main goal was to hunt down lone drug traffickers!

Even Svet's wife was unaware of this.

He gathered his team members, most of whom were carrying antiques – they had no source of funding and had to settle for weapons from World War II.

"Mr. Victor has made his move!" Svet looked at his team members with shining eyes, "When I was at the police station, I once accompanied the Director to a mansion. There, I saw someone."

"Who?" a short and chubby team member replied. He was Svet's childhood friend and colleague Piet, holding a PPSH-41 submachine gun.

"Armando Carrillo Fuentes!"

At that name, the team members were taken aback, looking at each other in disbelief.

"The guy with a 2 million US Dollar bounty on his head from Guadalupe Island Police Department, nicknamed the 'General Killer' Armando?" Piet raised an eyebrow and asked.

This nickname came from him having killed two Mexican generals in Mexicali, which had made him infamous.

Sky King?

Just because you have a few planes, you dare to call yourself that?

You don't even have bombers, yet you call yourself the Sky King? You're more like the Sky Turtle!

"Let's go take him out!" Svet had guts.

"With these…old relics in our hands?" Piet looked incredulous.

"Who says old relics can't take lives? Don't you still prefer the older ones in the red-light district?"

Piet's face turned red.

"Are we doing this or not? If we take him out, we might also get to join Victor's forces."

The team members glanced at each other.

"We're in!"

Svet certainly knew the principle of seeking wealth amidst danger.

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"Let's go!"

Tijuana was bustling with intense activity.

Meanwhile, the city of Tecate was having an easier time of things.

That's mainly because Victor's recently acquired underling, the local police chief Guillermo, was very competent and had kept a tight grip on the situation until Victor announced the crackdown on drug traffickers in Baja California.

He suddenly "rose in rebellion!"

Leading the police officers right into the city hall, he arrested the mayor and several deputy mayors who were in a meeting.

"What are you doing, Guillermo?"

"Please, call me Officer! You drug trafficking bastard." Guillermo walked up and slapped the man. Explore stories at empire

The deputy chief slammed the table, "You..."

Guillermo picked up the ashtray and smashed it backhandedly, just like smashing a watermelon, with a clang.

Oh!

His eyes lit up; smashing someone with an ashtray felt so damn good!

No wonder boss Victor liked to use this too.

Guillermo rushed up to the fallen deputy chief and repeatedly struck him.

The "Ashtray Squad" gained another member.

"Don't move, or we'll kill you. Don't blame us for trembling hands."

Tecate itself was a small city. On the map of Mexico, you might not even find it, but when the Anti-Drug Force came into town in armored vehicles.

The drug traffickers who ran did so, those who surrendered did so; there was no resistance, they just knelt on the ground.

The officer in charge cursed at them, "Why don't you resist?"

The drug trafficker: ???

Are you crazy? Even our surrender is a problem?

"Captain, there's a reporter," a team member whispered from behind. The captain took a deep breath and glared at them, "Just their luck. Send a telegram to the Mexicali side; my unit has resolved the fight."

His tone was full of resentment.

The drug traffickers were just lucky, it's off to road building for them.

Mexicali city, the security department building.

This was the command center for operations.

Well, a battle had to be conducted with some formality, of course.

There was even a map on the wall.

"Director, the Tecate traffickers have surrendered," Casare came running over, saying excitedly.

At these words, Victor's eyes sparkled, and he checked the time: 3 hours and 02 minutes!

"Tell them to maintain strict control over the local security, block all exits, and let no drug trafficker escape."

Casare nodded and lowered his voice, "Boss, some of the footage on the show seems too bloody, with cops executing drug traffickers on their own."

"The station has received a lot of complaint calls, all from other states."

Complaints?

This left Victor utterly confused, certain this wasn't some kind of dark humor?

What was Mexico learning from the United States, prioritizing human rights above all?

"The executed drug traffickers haven't protested, so what are they protesting for? Whoever calls the station again, just tell them to piss off. They're spoiling them. My officers are out there upholding justice, and these people just babble on. If they think they can do better, send them to the battlefield."

"From now on, let the person concerned make the complaint."

Casare was both amused and exasperated.

"Taking over Baja California is our strategic goal, and we must crush anyone who stands in our way!" Victor declared determinedly.

Baja California was truly a gem, geographically ideal. Just look at how the United States' Baja California had developed. As long as we wipe out the drug traffickers and boost the tourism industry, the GDP would definitely soar daily.

And there certainly weren't a few Runren who managed to get to the United States from here.

Those smugglers made a fortune just by collecting people's smuggling fees, which became an industry in itself. It's said that, disregarding other steps, just transporting a person from Mexico to the other side could cost 3000 US dollars!

And that was the price back in the '80s.

NMD...

How could such a lucrative business be left in the hands of criminals? Of course, it had to be managed by the government of Baja California. The title was already figured out: when the time came, official tourist visas would be issued, and vessels would directly deliver people across without the fear of capsizing.

Work on this for a few years, and this place would definitely become the most coveted city in the world for Runren, with domestic demand soaring in no time.

These were just a small part of the economic recovery measures.

Of course...

Victor didn't have "power"; he was just a lowly Director. But once Cuauhtémoc moved into the Official Residence of Mexico, he would be "the Economic Advisor of Baja California, Head of the State Security Department, and the one calling the shots in the State Police Department!"

Don't rush... Stay calm.

"Director, you have a phone call."

"Who is it?"

"Carlos… Mr. President!" the secretary said with a peculiar look on her face.

Victor's face also showed surprise, but then he smiled, picking up the phone and starting with a greeting, "Good afternoon, Mr. President."

"Oh no! Soon it will be 'ex' Mr. President."

...

Carlos was so close to smashing his phone listening to the almost "humiliating" tone on the other end!

But reason told him to cool it.

Carlos took a deep breath, "Get Cuauhtémoc to call off his operations, and I can agree to any demand you have."

"I'm just a cop, sir, not the president!"

Carlos could have crushed his teeth.

Cuauhtémoc that damned dog wanted to create a New Mexico?

And too many old-timers were supporting him, driving Carlos furious. He could imagine what awaited him if he left office.

Would Cuauhtémoc let him live?

Would Victor let him live?

Would any of the other families let him live?

They'd surely fear him speaking out too much, then fabricate an "accidental death." Carlos didn't want to die, fear flashing in his eyes.

"I can promote you to head of Mexican security, I promise you a crackdown on all drug traffickers nationwide!"

"Just make Cuauhtémoc stand down!"

Carlos's voice carried a hint of plea.

Victor could almost laugh, "Sir, I don't need your permission to crack down on drug traffickers. It is both the mission and duty of a police officer!"

"You perform poorly in your position; it's time for a change."

Are you trying to kill me, Victor?" Carlos finally roared out loud.

"To kill you?"

Victor spoke with a hostile tone, "Yes, to kill you! If you jump off the balcony right now, I will spare the Salinas Family!"

"You're betraying Mexico by dealing with the drug cartels!"

Carlos's mouth was trembling; the other party was serious about exterminating them all.

"I don't have much time to waste on you, Mr. President. I have to celebrate the bright rebirth of Tijuana!"

With that, Victor hung up the phone.

Carlos stood rigidly, the wind passing through the window causing the curtains to flutter.

"Bastard! Asshole!" He smashed the phone to the ground and overturned all the documents on the table. Outside, Ajit, the secretary who heard the commotion, walked in. Seeing the messy office, his eyes flashed.

Carlos glared with a ferocious look.

If Victor wasn't going to let him live, then they should all die together!

"Declare it!"

"Victor is a rebel!"

"Arrest Cuauhtémoc; he's attempting to overthrow Mexico. Deploy the military to apprehend them!"

Madness… Complete madness!

...