Working as a police officer in Mexico

Can God strike down drug traffickers?

I don't know.

But to place a cross in a place like Parliament is the greatest disrespect to Victor, "If you've put up Jesus, why not me!"

Without an identity card approved by Victor, his God cannot be called God, but only Jesus!

Looking at that cross, he felt more and more nauseated the more he looked at it.

He waved Zolf Sherman over with a curl of his finger. Sherman came over with a confused look, but his expression became subtle upon seeing the side of God's face charred with a hole.

The Latin American region...

This is illegal.

If the priests found out, they'd make him understand what Liberation Theology is all about on the spot; those guys in priest robes are vicious.

Victor reached out and pulled the handgun from Zolf Sherman's waist, aiming it at the God on the cross.

"If it's useless, then please don't take up space."

Boom!

The gunshot rang out.

Directly took it out!

Half a stone head fell from above, tumbling down from the steps with a clatter, coming to rest at the feet of a female legislator.

Enjoy new tales from empire

Startled... she hastily shrank back.

The X00X trembled as well.

Jesus... had been blown open?!

All those in the legislature fell silent, looking on in disbelief at the scene before them. This was blasphemy!

This was blasphemy!

But why, when the voices of protest reached their lips, could they not utter a word, as if something was blocking their mouths?

Upon closer inspection, oh, it was a 7.62 caliber round.

God is God, and life is life; these cannot be lumped together as one and the same.

From his elevated position, Victor looked down at the legislators, scrutinizing each one carefully. He hoped there might be some good people in Sonora State, but...

"Ah, I'm sorry, ladies and gentlemen, but you can't make me forgive you. Go to hell."

"Fire!"

Zolf Sherman immediately understood and with a wave of his hand, the police officers pulled their triggers and began to sweep with gunfire.

Ratatatatat!

"Help! Save me!"

"Don't kill me! I won't dare again!"

The wretched legislators screamed and tried to run, but they were all hit by bullets and fell into pools of blood.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

"Spare me! Spare me! I have elders above and young ones below, my child is still very young, and I have to raise him."

A young legislator with short hair shouted loudly and knelt down, kowtowing on the ground.

If the madonnas heard this, they might think Victor was some sort of murderous maniac, but this guy... was originally the son of a chief from the Juarez Drug Trafficking Group.

At 17, he kidnapped a tourist outside; at 18, he raped and killed a woman; at 21, he began trafficking drugs for Juarez in San Francisco.

Entered politics at 24?

Now 27, in three years climbed into the state legislature.

Shit!

Did your ass have rockets installed?

Indeed, only three things sustain power: money, blood, and babies, and even in Mexico, Victor sometimes had to scratch his head.

It wasn't that he regretted it, rather, he was frightened.

When he was killing people before, didn't he see their tears?

Victor just slightly raised his eyelids, turned his head away, took the cigar handed to him by Casare, lit it, and blew out a ring of smoke.

"About to die and still so verbose."

Zolf Sherman personally took out a shotgun, tucked it under his arm, and gave the man's head a blast!

The watermelon... exploded!

Wherever there was filth, that's where Victor swept!

The legislature?

Pffft!

About 80 state legislators lay here.

"Make sure to clean the place up."

After walking out of the Parliament building, Victor didn't forget to prompt for a thorough cleanup.

"Boss, with the legislators gone, might there be complaints from Mexico City?" Casare asked softly by his side.

"True, we'll need a few people to fill those positions."

Victor nodded thoughtfully. Then, suddenly he said, "Pick out some rank-and-file officers and combatants from the police force and let them serve. It's just about having people sitting in those seats inside."

Those chairs don't have butt-recognition systems.

Whoever Victor says can sit, can sit.

But upon hearing this, Casare and Zolf Sherman exchanged glances, at a loss for words.

Isn't this essentially... establishing a military government?

Fat Casare scratched his head; even Cuauhtémoc from Mexico City would lose sleep if this got out.

"I know what you're thinking. Politics are just a means to the end of drug prohibition, nothing more. Once I've rid Sonora State of drug traffickers, I will definitely return power to Mexico City," Victor pronounced righteously.

Why does that line sound so familiar?

Did the Corporal not say the same thing once? That he wanted only Germany's greatness and nothing else?

However, Victor meant it sincerely; he was a "Drug Prohibition Warrior"!

Cleaning his own ranks in Sonora State's legislature, which were filled with drug traffickers, that was all.

They all misunderstood me... My true good intentions.

As the "Grand Steward," Casare understood that it was time for him to step forward, "Yes, the Director is right, I agree with this move. The officers fight on the front lines, offering their lives for the peace in Mexico, and we must give them not just material satisfaction but also sufficient voice."

Now that's what you call a confidant.

Victor was very pleased, nodding his head, "It's crucial to pick from the rank-and-file officers."

"Understood, I'll handle it."

The group got into their vehicles, Zolf Sherman left a squad to wait there at the legislature in case someone... arrived late, casually sending them along.

"Today, let's sweep clean every family and consortium related to drug traffickers!" Victor's tone was grim as he looked at the desolate street outside, then turned to Casare who had come in, "You know what I mean, not a single one spared!"