Working as a police officer in Mexico

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Chihuahua State, "Madella"!

In 1521, Mexico fell to Spanish colonial rule, and numerous pioneering groups came here and gathered, with Madella being one of the earliest Spanish settlements.

Now, centuries later, those Spanish descendants have long since become localized, engaging in small business activities, such as drug trafficking and kidnapping for ransom.

Also, because of this place's unique geographical location, when the Tijuana Cartel was active, it would often clash with local drug traffickers, so the local customs here are quite fierce.

They wouldn't say something mild like, "What are you looking at?"

They'd shoot you three times right off the bat.

Although this is a small town, its homicide cases are particularly prominent in Mexico every year.

But ever since they started warring with the Anti-Drug Force,

The Sinaloa Group that occupies Chihuahua State sent about 200 gunmen to be stationed here, just to keep an eye on the opposite side.

After taking Sonora State, the Anti-Drug Force didn't continue moving southward, which made them relax their guard for just a moment.

Boy...

Are you saying directly that your squad leader was killed?

Before any explanation, they just opened fire indiscriminately.

Would you fucking listen to me explain!

It was just a sheep, just a sheep!

Anti-Drug Force: You motherfucker, you dare to kill my sheep.

The firing covered thousands of rounds, and in an instant, this small town suffered a catastrophe.

"Hurry! Take cover in the bomb shelter!"

The streets of the town were in panic.

People were running everywhere, like headless flies, and before they could get far, they were suddenly smashed on the head by bombs falling from the sky, with successive explosions throwing many "flying" into the air, limbs and body parts scattered everywhere.

"Ahhh!!! Help me! Save me!!"

A drug trafficker wearing a short-sleeved shirt, with a tiger head embroidered on his shoulder, shouted in agony. He looked up and saw his lower half... his pupils contracted, his voice tinged with panic, terror, confusion.

Completely gone below!

His lower half was blown clean off below the root of his thigh.

Fuck, I wonder if my dick can still be used.

It should be fine; Stephen Hawking still managed to get around, with the skill: Diamond Body!

However, this guy seemed to be in a pretty bad state, his intestines were spilling out, extensively oxidized, turning black in a flash. If you don't believe me, you can pull out your own intestines and see, once exposed to air and without treatment, they will spoil quickly. Stay tuned to empire

The drug trafficker wailed in despair, but no one stopped to help him.

What a joke.

The Anti-Drug Force is advancing, we're going to die, we're all going to die!

Finally, the drug trafficker could only die with his eyes wide open, lying on the ground.

"Quick! Call headquarters for reinforcements!" the local ringleader shouted until his voice grew hoarse, it was somewhat like asking Grandpa Sun for help.

A direct call was made to Culiacán, Sinaloa.

Inside the most bustling building in the city center, it was brightly lit.

From the support call from "Madella," it went directly here.

North American Drug Syndicate Mexico division, also known as the Base Camp, where any targeted actions by drug traffickers are initiated.

"Make way! Make way!"

A man, dressed in a suit with a bushy beard, dashed towards Guzman's office. Just as he was about to open the door, his hand on the knob hesitated for a moment, unsure, then knocked.

"Come in."

Only after hearing a voice from within did he push the door and enter, his eyes immediately landing on Guzman sitting behind the boss's desk. Clearly visible were a pair of legs in stockings kneeling on the floor, the face was obscured but it was presumably a woman's.

Wearing stockings, it's not likely to be a man, right?

"What is it?" Guzman asked with a scowl.

The man who rushed in blurted out, "Vic's Anti-Drug Force has attacked the border town of Madella, Andrei is requesting support!"

"OH! Fuck!"

Guzman suddenly yelled, grabbing the woman's head, "You bit me, you bitch!"

In her look of terror, he grabbed a hammer from the side... yes, a hammer lying by the desk, and smashed it on her head.

It was like cracking a coconut, but since the skull is tough, it didn't break, yet it caved in.

Dissatisfied, Guzman continued to hit several more times until she was bloodied before releasing her and pulling up his trousers.

Lately… he had become increasingly violent.

He had heard that Vic liked to smash people with ashtrays; he felt he had to be more ruthless, so he kept a hammer ready.

And damn, does it relieve the pressure when smashed down!

"Say it again," Guzman turned and demanded of his underling.

The underling swallowed hard, "Mad... Madella is under artillery fire, they need reinforcements."

"Which troop is closest to there?"

"God's Battalion 17th Battalion is nearby on the Sinaloa border."

Guzman was very capable; after returning to Mexico, he unified the traffickers under the three major drug trafficking groups, collectively naming them God's Battalion.

Meaning: I am God!

He had 20 battalions under him, each with about 4200 people, adding up to roughly 84,000 people, most of them traffickers trained in extended gun warfare.

That's not all. Aside from the "Regular Army," there was also the "Imperial Allied Army," publicly known as "Xiuhtecuhtli!"

The fire god from Aztec mythology!

The key personnel were local gangs, unemployed farmers, and local civilians recruited from the areas, about 60,000 people.

They also had a Special Forces group known as "Los Zetas," specialized in covert operations.

After being decimated before, they've now replenished with over a thousand men, a mixed bag of US soldiers, Southeast Asian guerrillas, West African Special Forces, European ronin, and others.

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