President of Colombia, Armando Benedetto, returned to Bogota with a high-profile escort of Mexican armored convoys, like a scorching iron branding the hearts of the opposition.
Panic swiftly spread among the opposition members; they were understandably fearful of being purged.
In a certain secret location.
"He's back! With the Mexican tanks!"
A parliamentarian's face was grim, his voice trembling, "Armando will surely exploit this to label us as traitors colluding with foreign forces, and completely wash us clean!"
"We cannot sit and wait for death!"
Another seasoned opposition leader slammed the table fiercely, a reckless gleam in his eyes, "That fool thinks he's invincible with Mexican backing? Don't forget, General Carlos of the Bogota City Defense forces is our man! He still commands forces loyal to the nation!"
Nation?
Coming out of their mouths, that word felt ironic.
