Working as a police officer in Mexico

Chapter 49 They Are Young!

Victor felt very insecure.

As soon as he took the position of warden, he saw the number of Golden Finger exchanges go from the original 20 to 40, doubling!

Meanwhile, his points had rocketed because he had killed a member of the Pedro Family, now standing at 971,000 points.

He had earned quite a bit back from his previous expenditures.

Indeed, the more capital you have, the more you earn.

He selected 3 technicians to join Yuri and Kost, forming the "Prison Maintenance Department." The rest were all modeled after Kennedy Heisenberg's template.

The combat team swelled from 18 to 35 people, creating an enhanced platoon.

And Victor, who believed in the supremacy of "firepower," not only added an M240 machine gun to a Hummer, but also equipped them with two TPz-1 "Fox" armored personnel carriers produced by the German Thyssen Henschel Company.

Each man was armed with an anti-tank rocket launcher.

He blew nearly 300,000 points in one go.

With money, you can be so audacious.

He also applied to Alejandro for the establishment of a "Special Combat Team," registered under the name of the Prison Administration Bureau, codename: El León de México (the Mexican Lion), abbreviated as EDM!

As for the official reason...

Of course, it's to suppress prison riots.

Isn't that obvious?

That's the advantage of having official backing; even illegal armed forces can be "whitewashed" for you. If Victor had been a drug trafficker, hehehe, he would probably have been on the wanted list by now, and perhaps Special Forces would have been dispatched to decapitate him.

But he was a police officer.

Finally seeing the importance of being certified, right?

Through EDM, Victor quickly gained control over all the prison sections, and he planned to select some emergency squad members as reserves.

The slots for 35 people were not nearly enough. If there was a chance in the future... he could commission someone to take a look in the Soviet Union, where life for the special forces was tough.

In the office.

Victor hummed a tune, feeling good, as the inmates had been very cooperative lately, earning him quite a bit of US dollars.

With a paring knife in hand, he was peeling an apple when the familiar voice of a female reporter came from the TV; he had developed a bit of a crush on her recently.

The taste was intense.

"According to the Mexico Police Department, drug trafficking groups Michoacán Family, Legion Salvaje, and Alianza Demoníaca are demanding that the Mexican Government release their members incarcerated at Plateau Prison,"

"They also accused Warden Victor Carlos Vieri of abuse of prisoners and demanded his dismissal and for him to be handed over to the Michoacán Family for handling!"

"So far, the Mexican Government has not responded."

Victor choked on his apple when he heard his own name, surprised that his first appearance on TV would be associated with such a "reputation." He squinted his eyes.

He detected a scent in the air targeting him.

Ding-a-ling~

The phone on the desk rang.

Victor picked it up, his expression visibly darkening at a discernible speed.

Interesting...

God has opened shop again.

...

Clayton Cemetery, Mexico.

This was the largest gathering place for "retail" in Mexico City, where many unclaimed inmates who died in accidents were buried.

The lucky ones even got tombstones.

Many of the poor lived off the cemetery, as the government departments needed a lot of laborers to dig graves, albeit for a paltry salary.

A bare-bottomed child, his face caked with dirt, was digging through the mud when he suddenly heard footsteps and looked up with an earthworm in his mouth.

Not far ahead, he saw four or five men in black suits.

Their presence was intimidating.

He instinctively wanted to run; survival was something he had learned in Mexico, but the buzz-cut man leading them waved at him, calling him over.

The child hesitated, then approached.

If he hadn't... he would have died!

"Sir, do you know where the dead prisoners from Plateau Prison are placed?" The leader spoke in a soft and gentle voice, even addressing a child as sir, which felt oddly out of place.

The child timidly nodded, pointing not far away, "Over there."

"Thank you, this is your reward." The man took out 10 US dollars from his pocket and handed it to the boy, who, frightened, hastily waved his hands.

"Take it, every bit of help needs to be rewarded."

The man stuffed the money into the child's hand, even patted his head, and walked towards the area the child pointed to. The child looked at the money in his hand and ran off at full speed.

"Mr. Cardenas, the Mexican Government has rejected our demands!" A subordinate suddenly spoke up from behind.

Osir Cardenas, walking in front, stopped in his tracks and with his head held high, "It seems like the gentlemen sitting in the offices have forgotten what we look like. Let's remind them, and don't forget this is Mexico, where the drug traffickers are in charge!"

The subordinate hurriedly agreed and took out his phone to give the orders.

Meanwhile, Mexico City started to stir.

A bus was in transit, many of its passengers disabled, wearing yellow hats, smiling on their faces because they had gone out for fun today, excitedly waving their flags at their companions taking videos, flashing the peace sign.

"Erica, smile for me, I'll take your picture," a young man with Down syndrome said while holding a camera toward the group leader.

The young woman leading them, who tied her hair in braids, was quite young, barely in her early twenties, and small in stature, not bearing the typical tall frame of Mexican women, and also not conventionally beautiful, with freckles across her face. But she smiled upon hearing the call.

Her eyes curved into crescents.

She posed happily.

Boom... Bang!!!

Suddenly, a dump truck slammed into them from the side, and the driver, out of instinct, swerved, crashing into the greenery on the side.

Erica, who hadn't managed to keep her balance, fell down, but she was still anxiously asking, "Is everyone okay? Tonyino? How are you!"

Before she could finish, a pickup truck charged forward, and seven or eight masked armed militants jumped out, wielding Valmet M76 assault rifles, and opened fire on the bus!

The bullets passed through the metal bus shell and through Erica's body, blood splattered in the air.

Screams, wails, and cries...

The drug traffickers emptied two magazines into the bus, then, without leaving, started attacking bystanders indiscriminately.

Inside the bus.

Tonyino, the young man with Down syndrome lay on the ground, still holding the camera, which played back the happy laughter of everyone.

"We went out to play!"

"We like Erica!"

"Yeah!"

In the camera, their smiles lingered.

They were so young.

Mexico was in chaos.

...

Bang!

Vic hung up the phone, his whole body emanating intense rage.

"Rebel against the tyrant! Rebel against the tyrant!"

Suddenly, shouts erupted from downstairs.

He ran to the window and saw thousands of prisoners running out from the "work" site, many of them carrying various "tools."

They were beating the jail guards.

Quite a few jail guards were actually pinned to the ground as their weapons were snatched away.

"Warden, there's been an incident!" Special Combat Team Captain Harrison ran in, his face also showing fear.

"It's time to fight, mate."

"I order, no need for warnings, kill them all!"

...

TPz-1 "Fox" armoured personnel carrier!