Working as a police officer in Mexico

Global manhunt for Pablo.

Casare's eyebrows twitched upon hearing Victor's words, "Boss, he's Colombian."

"So what? Is that supposed to impress me?"

Victor glanced at him, "If he dares to traffic drugs, even if he's the Pope of the Vatican, I'll bring him down and smack him in the face in front of Jesus. The teachings of Jesus don't cover him, so I'll take it upon myself to discipline him."

"Many people in Mexico City might not be too happy about this..." Casare tried to put it delicately. They hadn't even resolved their own mess yet, what if they antagonized the Colombians?

Facing the explosive attacks from Mexican drug traffickers every day was already terrifying enough.

"Who's not happy? Give me a list. Counter-terrorism needs a list, but to deal with traitors internally, all I need is coordinates."

"Those in Mexico City who don't want to do it can roll out. Can't we find a few obedient ones from a population of over a hundred million?" Victor scoffed with derision, picking up a cigarette from the table and lighting it, exhaling a puff of smoke, "In the march against drugs, I don't need moralists with minds of their own, I only need banal yes-men."

Casare's reply was stuck in his throat. He nodded vigorously, quickly adjusting his mindset, "Boss, whatever you do, I support you!"

Victor smiled, patting his shoulder with satisfaction, "Alejandro is getting old, you should help him shoulder more responsibilities."

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Casare's heart tightened; Alejandro wasn't even 50 yet. Was the boss implying dissatisfaction with him?

Victor was indeed a bit displeased with Alejandro's handling of the "31 FBI bodies" situation. Couldn't he even "smear" properly?

More than 10 hours had passed and there had been no announcement.

With such low efficiency, Victor was very unhappy.

If Alejandro disappointed him, just as Victor had raised him up, he could also bring him down!

"Boss, if someone asks about our relationship with Colombia (7.27), what should we say?"

"Such a matter of defending justice, the Yanks will beat us to it in acknowledgment."

If they could grab headlines every day.

They'd love to play the groom every day!

Casare agreed with this statement. Americans, if there were journalists in hell, they would certainly be more willing to envelope Satan.

"Boss, what's the bounty on Pablo?"

Victor contemplated for a moment, "300 million US dollars!"

Wow...

This was simply the highest in history. Bounty Hunters would go insane!

It was unclear if the mercenary groups would be tempted.

Many mercenaries did this kind of "bounty work." Three hundred million US dollars, a few years of company sales, but Pablo was a tough nut to crack.

But in this world, is there a shortage of warriors charging for money?

However, Victor actually preferred to catch him alive.

Then, in front of him, slaughter all his kin one by one, sentencing them to death according to "Victor's Law." What do you think such a proud man would do at that time?

Make him wish he were dead!

To flay him alive in front of the whole world, wouldn't that give a sense of achievement?

As Casare was about to leave the office, the secretary knocked and entered, with a strange expression, "Director."

"What's up?"

"The Mexican-American author Sandra Cisneros has expressly stated on an American TV show that she will nominate you for the Nobel Peace Prize in the September nominations."

????

Victor had weathered many storms, but this news still left him bewildered.

Me?

Nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize?

Casare also looked surprised. Who? Boss, the Peace Prize? Holy shit, if there were a "Bavarian Corporal" award, he'd be the one to be nominated.

Afraid the air might suddenly become quiet.

The secretary chuckled nervously, nodding, "The last Time Magazine had quite an impact in the US, accumulating a lot of fans. In fact, there are even people in the US who established the 'Victor Sect.' The main crowd is some traditional white families, and their number is not small. They claim: Drugs are Satan's excrement, and only the dead eat excrement.

They are very eager to be the vanguard in fighting drug traffickers, and the office received several letters expressing the desire to join the Mexican Drug Enforcement Department."

What's this?

Fanatical believers? Or worshipers?

Victor scratched his head, thinking they were planning to become... the Foreign Legion of the Mexican Anti-Narcotics Force?

How noble!

From 1940 to 2000, American pop culture thrived with rebellion at its core, and they really saw themselves as a lighthouse, a guardian angel of the Third World, the world's custodian.

At that time, the Three Musketeers of North America didn't let down as they did later.

International warriors like Bethune and Louis Allee emerged.

To the traditional white class, Victor's crude methods were seen as defending the so-called bottom line.

"Where are the letters? Let me see them."

The secretary hurried out and Victor, still smiling, told Casare, "Even someone like me has fans."

"Boss, your charisma is like this." Fat Casare held up his thumb in praise, "You and Fidel Castro are both full of admiration in the Latin American world."

Victor pointed at him, "You, always with the smooth talk."

A couple of minutes later, the breathless secretary rushed in with the letters, all opened and checked to prevent any possible poisoning.

Victor took one and it read:

"Hi! Victor!"

"I'm delighted to write to you, I'm from San Francisco, USA. I want to tell you, you rock! Kill off those drug traffickers; they've turned our community into a mess. When will San Francisco's idiot cops get rid of them?"

"If I become president, I'll definitely invite you to help with drug enforcement in the US."

"True Anglos hate the smell of DM."

"Mr. Victor, if needed, please contact me!"

"We're waiting for the real Jesus!"

A simple and modest letter, after looking at the others, they were more or less the same, all expressing his "expectations."

Victor looked at Casare, his eyebrows slightly raised, "Perhaps, we should pay more attention to public opinion. Help me contact a few friends who wrote the letters and Ms. Sandra Cisneros. I would like to invite them to Tijuana for a visit."

Victor was happy to smile at those who were on the same side as him.

When he didn't smile, you had to be careful.

Of course, when the smile was very stiff, it's best to take your ashtray away.

The secretary nodded in response.

"Go find out how much the Nobel Prize costs," Victor whispered to Casare.

He still cared about this title a bit.

This meant that Victor's influence was starting to expand from Mexico to the world!

Stuffing money? Bribery?

Of course not, this is called operation!

Victor wanted to progress too.

...

Santa Fe de Bogota.

A complete mess!

The brawl between the drug traffickers and the Government Forces lasted until 8 pm, when the commander of Colombia's 76th Brigade, Isaac Asimov, was killed!

A shell fell directly on his command vehicle, sending him off to heaven on the spot.

The whole brigade was rubbed raw by the drug traffickers; if not for other brother units coming to their rescue later, they might have been annihilated!

But with the commander dead, they had lost a great deal of face.

Furthermore, during the subsequent personnel tally, they discovered about 200 people were missing!

Absolutely outrageous.

Angry drug traffickers began smashing nearby shops; they even dragged the bodies of EDM and HEAT members with vehicles, leaving blood all over the ground. Some urinated on the bodies. These scenes were broadcast live by the news groups under the Cali Cartel!

Gilbert couldn't care less about the notion of "getting rich silently" anymore.

His own younger brother, Miguel, was dead!

He needed to vent!

The Cali Cartel's television reach extended to over 6 million households in Latin America; those who hadn't been to Colombia wouldn't understand what this name represented.

If Medellin started with violence, then Gilbert and his brother were geniuses in business. Even if they were not drug trafficking, they might have still achieved significant success.

They had their own football team, competing in the Colombian professional league, as well as racehorses in the UK betting circles, and even had real estate companies in several Asian countries. It's said they also had a team on Wall Street trading stocks for them.

They owned at least three publicly traded companies!

How much money they had, they didn't even know themselves.

Once such a machine was activated, it was extremely terrifying!

A drug trafficker holding an AK4, wearing a mask and a Kevlar helmet with military ENVG night vision goggles on top, looked... like he might be from the U.S. Military.

Behind him, drug traffickers were hoisting up a corpse, cutting the dead person's facial features with a dagger, looking incredibly cruel!

The voice of the drug Lord came through the mask, "We'll catch the murderer who disrupted our conference! We will retaliate!"

"When you sleep, keep your eyes open, I'll slash your throat, rape your wives, and kill your families!"

The tone was fierce and maniacal.

At least millions across Latin America saw these eyes and shuddered involuntarily.

Those with a strong Sixth Sense felt something was wrong.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

It couldn't be that Season S3 was about to begin, could it?

Impossible, these are just drug traffickers!

Um... A criminal organization better equipped than over two hundred countries worldwide.

Faced with the drug traffickers' threats, the DEA wasn't afraid. Besides the clumsy bear to the north, who should I fear?

Who could make me tremble?

In Pablo's "Naples" manor.

The living room was very dark, with no lights on at all.

Vaguely visible were several figures sitting, watching the television.

On it, a white-haired man was reading from a script in front of the camera.

"The spokesperson for the United States Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA) states that substantial progress has been made in the anti-drug operations against Colombian Drug Lords, resulting in the deaths of Cali Cartel's second-in-command Miguel, Medellin Cartel's Blanco, and senior leader of the Trout Gang in Guatemala, Franco Vincent..."

"And they will pursue global arrest warrants against the surviving drug traffickers!"

"It also warns everyone not to test the DEA's patience on the drug problem, as the United States has zero tolerance towards drug-related behavior!"

"The Mexican Drug Enforcement Agency announced a historical high bounty of 300 million US Dollars on Pablo, with over seven PMC companies already expressing interest."

"Mayor Casare Gonzalez of Ensenada City, Mexico, said to reporters: The North American Drug Syndicate is just a bunch of clowns in a frenzy."

"Mr. Victor and his Anti-Drug Force of more than ten thousand people will firmly maintain Mexico's security and will not allow any more drugs to flow in."

Casare appeared on the television exactly at that moment.

He pointed, even knocked on the camera lens, his eyes deep, "Victor is watching you!"

In the living room shadows, the person sitting in the middle suddenly stood up, grabbed the gun from the coffee table, and aimed at the television, biubiubiu!!

He short-circuited the television completely.

The gloomy face turned around -- it was Pablo himself, his eyes blood red, "DEA! Victor!"

His tone paused.

"Casare Gonzalez!!"

...