Working as a police officer in Mexico

Sinaloa State, a cemetery.

It was quiet,

even the birds on the trees calmed down, perhaps sensing the sorrow.

Dressed in a black suit and wearing sunglasses, Guzman quietly watched as several men placed the coffin into a pit.

A few of his mistresses and their children stood by his side.

During his lifetime, Guzman had about 50 children; it wasn't like he couldn't afford them.

However, the death of Ainsley, whom he saw as his successor, was a great blow to him, whitening even the hair at his temples.

This is exactly what Victor wanted!

If you don't kill the drug trafficker, they stay uncomfortable, so isn't the "fight poison with poison" drug enforcement ineffective?

"Boss, my condolences."

Arturo Beltran Leyva also sighed. They watched Ainsley grow up, but the drug business is like this, you could kick the bucket at any moment.

But Victor's methods were too "brutal"!

Even the mortician couldn't help but vomit.

They even found a bomb in Ainsley's stomach!

Clearly, those cops were planning to blow up their own group, but perhaps some component broke during transportation and it didn't go off.

Otherwise...

"Boss! Boss!"

Suddenly, Hector was seen running over, his face still showing some nervousness, even falling as he ran.

"Panic-stricken! What's going on!?" Arturo scolded his brother.

Hector swallowed, "Cuauhtémoc announced the establishment of a new political party in San Luis Potosi, impeaching Carlos. He claims that if he comes to power, he will eliminate the drug trafficking industry without mercy."

"Victor declared his support for him, and launched an offensive against other cities in Baja California, and fighting has broken out, it's started again!"

Drug traffickers should be the most concerned about politics.

Because who comes to power determines their wiggle room and the fertile ground for their future survival; upon hearing the name Cuauhtémoc, he instinctively frowned.

"Damn it, didn't kill him?" Guzman looked at Arturo.

The latter showed an embarrassed expression, "No, he has too many guards around him, our men and the Mexican intelligence agencies didn't take them down."

"Then why didn't you report to me!" Guzman glared.

Arturo looked at him, "Your son just died, I couldn't just bring you 'bad news'," Guzman also understood the meaning in his cousin's eyes and fell silent for a moment.

"Should we send support to Tijuana?" Hector said softly, "They've already called many times."

Guzman frowned and shook his head, "Let them recruit people in the city themselves; we're not sending support. We don't want Baja California!"

Arturo also felt that was the best approach.

Having a direct conflict with Victor, who was so fiercely armed... that was simply asking for death.

The others still active in Baja California could only pray for their own luck.

Guzman looked back at the gravestone, upon which was a photo of Ainsley and a phrase, "Guzman's most beloved son!"

"Ainsley, rest assured, I will send Victor down to keep you company!"

...

Who is the most panicked now?

The remnants of the drug traffickers in Baja California.

Tijuana!

As the old stronghold of the original drug trafficking organization, even after the death of Benjamin and his brothers, this place has never known peace.

The Gulf Group, the Juarez Cartel, the Sinaloa Group...

They turned this place into a frontline to stand up against "Tyrant Victor", or, one might say, a buffer zone.

Along with the other organizations that fragmented from the Tijuana Cartel, this northwestern Mexican stronghold quickly surpassed other cities with 120 murders a day, taking the throne for the highest crime rate.

Because it's 19 kilometers north of San Diego, USA, you can see refugees everywhere on the streets, waiting to slip into the United States.

They are also an unstable element in society.

On a street named "Dios de la guerra", a gathering place for those looking to slip across the border, idle black people were everywhere.

They fought each other, women worked as streetwalkers, numbing themselves with cigarettes and drugs.

Some refugees with overflowing artistic cells sat on chairs, quietly playing harmonicas.

"Mommy, I'm hungry." On a bench, a black girl looked up at her mother helplessly as her stomach growled.

Her mother held her hand tightly, anxiously watching the Mexican haggling prices with her husband.

"NONONO, 20 US dollars, that's the highest offer already. Look at how weak she is, no one wants her, and I still have to feed her for a while,"

The Mexican, wearing a cowboy hat and chewing gum, glanced at the girl on the bench and said impatiently to the man.

"Higher, please, higher," the man begged.

The Mexican grimaced, ready to continue bargaining, when he saw a pickup truck barrel into "Dios de la guerra" street, and a tattooed man climbed onto the roof from the back of the truck.

"The Sinaloa Group is hiring temporary workers, 25 US dollars an hour! Sign up now!!!"

The refugees were taken aback, but instantly, there was an uproar.

25 US dollars an hour, damn it, even if we have to fight a war, it's worth it!

Many people crowded forward.

Even the man selling his daughter lit up, rushing forward eagerly, only to be pulled back by the Mexican buyer, "Hey! Where do you think you're going?"

"25 dollars an hour! Didn't you hear? Let go of me!"

"Idiot, think you can just take a drug trafficker's money?"

The man hesitated for a moment, but when he heard the loud voice of the drug trafficker above, saying, "Come quick! Limited spots available,"

he immediately forgot, pulling away from the Mexican buyer and jostling forward. The latter shook his head at the man's behavior, looked up at the drug trafficker, and a sixth sense made him feel that something bad was about to happen. He slipped away from the crowd and ran.

The man, strong in stature, pushed through and registered. He ran back to his wife and daughter with a beaming smile, "I've found a job."

The woman was also delighted, but she asked hesitantly, "Barouk, such high wages, what exactly will you be doing? You're not going to traffic drugs, are you?"

The man named Barouk paused. He looked around at the many people and said, "If trafficking drugs earns money, then I'll traffic drugs."

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The wife sighed.

It was the child who lifted his head, "Mommy, what is drug trafficking?"

This left them not knowing how to answer, stammering and hesitant.

Just a few minutes after the Sinaloa Group had started recruiting.

Trucks from the Juarez and Gulf Group also rushed in, even using loudspeakers.

"Juarez is recruiting, 50 US dollars an hour!"

"Gulf Group is recruiting, 55 US dollars an hour!"

This caused many refugees who had signed up for Sinaloa to regret it deeply, but not all of the refugees were useless; some could sense that something was off.

Why are the drug traffickers getting more and more anxious?

"Sir, sir, what exactly do you need us to do!"

Standing atop the pickup truck, the drug trafficker looked down at the refugees below, his eyes filled with madness, "Nothing much, just help us move some stuff."

Just moving stuff could fetch so much money?

The refugees looked at each other, thinking if they could earn money in Mexico, then next door in the United States, they would definitely earn more!

The drug traffickers watched their expressions, eyes gleaming with insanity.

Victor is coming!

Cannon fodder, get ready to enter the battlefield!

…

"From Mexicali Square, head straight for the battlefield!"

Divide into three groups and surround the city's drug traffickers!

Code name: Operation Hero!!

Victor could now be said to be well-armed and powerful, with 700 of the elite from EDM (Mexican Lion), each member at least a Sergeant, enjoying the best benefits.

Next was the Counter-Terrorism Mobile Unit (EDTV), which had absorbed another 600 rookies to form a 1400-strong force, definitely a mainstay!

The rest were from the Mexican National Emergency Squad (EDN), with 900 members who had only three months of training – all from good families on Guadalupe Island, absolutely Victor's most trusted confidants!

Moreover, these three months included training in over a dozen tactics such as artillery, individual combat, and radio encryption. They crammed everything into their minds, and of course, they couldn't become experts in such a short time.

But taking them to surround and suppress the drug traffickers gave them a taste of the atmosphere of war, mainly as support.

Local public security would be handed over to the newly established National Guard!

There's also a military formation with 30 helicopters!

After all, he had the points, so why not spend them lavishly? His air power exceeded at least 40% of the nations within Blue Star. Victor had even thought about exchanging for military airplanes, but those were…

Too provocative for the Mexican authorities.

After all, what they themselves used were antiquated.

It's better to wait until Cuauhtémoc takes office before dealing with it. He had already thought of the name.

"Mexican Air Police Force!"

Me, Victor as the commander wouldn't be too much, right?

...

Barouk carried sandbags, his gaze weary.

Strong and sturdy, he was deployed to build sandbag barricades at the entrance of Tijuana, but he still couldn't understand, what was the use of this?

Looking at those drug traffickers… they even set up… machine guns next to them!

That's a machine gun, he had seen them in the army of a warlord back in his native Africa. His heart panicked. Was there going to be a war?

He had run away because he didn't want to fight wars. How could there be a war here too?

"What are you dazing for! Go move it already!"

A drug trafficker saw Barouk in a daze and picked up a stone from the ground to throw at him, hitting him right in the head, causing so much pain that Barouk snapped back to his senses and nodded hurriedly.

These drug traffickers had no humanity; how could they possibly let them rest?

Buzz buzz buzz…

At that moment, Barouk heard a noise from the sky and looked up, puzzled.

He saw 1, 2, 3… 7 helicopters appear in the distance. He even counted!

Barouk's eyes widened abruptly.

"Helicopters! Helicopters!" screamed the drug trafficker who had hit him with the stone, and chaos erupted at the entrance.

As for Barouk, he didn't know if he was scared or stunned, but he just stared straight ahead.

He saw the helicopters not coming any closer but dangling something underneath. What was that?

It looked like… a tank?!! Maybe?

About 1 kilometer from Tijuana.

Zolf Sherman, the commander of the Counter-Terrorism Mobile Unit, furrowed his brows as the propellers of the helicopter gave him a headache. But looking at the cargo being transported, his face lit up with joy.

The "Weasel" 1 airborne armored vehicle!

The flagship product of Borshe Corporation.

Fitted with a 20mm cannon, ground-to-air missiles, and anti-aircraft missiles, though these are optional.

But if these 7 armored vehicles worked together properly, they could dominate the city.

It's just that their protection was a bit weak.

But can one have an armored car or tank with high firepower, high rate of fire, good maneuverability, and also strong defense?

You can't have your cake and eat it too!

"Hurry up and unload!"

Officers climbed aboard and began untying the ropes.

"In 45 minutes, we surround Tijuana!!"

...

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