Anna had just returned from "official business" and was taking a bath, looking at the black and purple bruises reflected in the mirror, frowning and taking a deep breath.
Drug lords played quite elaborately.
Many things would need to be censored in America. You know, when Kennedy was shot dead, even his brains didn't get this treatment.
For women in places like Latin America, the only way to get ahead was through "sleeping around." Do you think there were many people like the world's number one female drug lord, Colombia's "Black Widow" Blanco?
In the male-dominated criminal world, there was only one woman who could establish herself and be respectfully called "Godmother" by numerous drug lords.
Just mentioning one thing was enough to make people afraid - she personally murdered her three husbands. On this point alone, many women couldn't compare.
If you weren't ruthless, did you still want to stand firm?
Why was there no feminism in places like Mexico and India?
Because they really hit women.
Most women were still like Anna - the pretty ones were kept as mistresses, becoming outlets for drug lords, while the ugly ones stood on street corners for 20 pesos a time.
In dangerous social environments, women, like money, were just tools for transactions.
Anna had just finished bathing when she saw a male guard's head poking around the doorway.
"What are you looking at?" Thinking it was another lustful one, she wrapped herself in a towel, leaned against the wall, casually took out a cigarette from the table, and expertly put it in her mouth, "If you want to look, pay money."
"There's a phone call for you at the duty room." The male guard looked at Anna's legs, swallowed, but knew this woman wasn't someone he could touch. Most importantly, he couldn't afford it - his monthly salary wouldn't even be enough to rub against her at the door.
Anna took a drag, pulled her towel up, and pushed past the guard. She was very realistic - if you have no money, why should I waste words with you?
Walking to the duty room, she picked up the phone receiver from the desk, sat down in the chair, put her legs up on the table. The male guard who followed couldn't help but glance several times.
"Who are you!"
Suddenly, Anna sat up straight, frowning.
"You don't need to know who I am. If you don't want your brother to die, come to the warehouse outside the prison. Don't think about calling for help..." The voice on the other end was obviously disguised. After speaking, without waiting for her response, they hung up directly.
Anna's face darkened as she slammed the receiver down hard.
"Need help?" the guard asked, bending over boldly.
But she completely ignored him, picked up the phone and dialed a number. As soon as it connected, she said anxiously, "My brother has been kidnapped."
You think I won't call for help just because you said not to?
Do you take me for an idiot?
Not calling for help would be like going there as fish on a chopping board.
Anna had been in society early and experienced many things. If you had backing and didn't call them, why would you join a gang?
As for whether it would cost her brother's life?
She had to survive first before worrying about that.
...
Bang!
Thunder roared in the sky.
Standing beside the warehouse, watching the distant "lightning," Victor calmly smoked, a beam of distant light shining over. Through the glass, his calm face showed more grimness.
"They're here!" Casare grabbed an umbrella and rushed out.
Best got out of the passenger seat and dragged a man from the back seat, walking into the warehouse.
"Boss."
Best proactively pointed at Duke, "This is my best brother and the helper I found."
On the way here, he had obviously talked to Duke, who somewhat restrainedly called Victor boss.
"We're all brothers, no need to be so formal." Victor smiled, his face trembling, glancing at the man bound behind his back with his mouth stuffed with... what looked like socks?
"Throw him in the box."
Duke nodded, carried the other person and stuffed him into a large wooden crate nearby, even making a silencing gesture with his finger to his mouth, "Be good, or I'll sell you to Africa to be gay."
Watching the box lid slowly close, despair showed in the other's eyes.
Duke clapped his hands and walked out, hearing Victor speaking, "I already said what needed to be said on the phone. Someone wants to kill me - that's cutting off our source of income. I'm a reasonable person. Whoever wants to kill me, I'll kill them!"
As he spoke, he dragged out a suitcase from the corner while holding his cigarette.
"Open it."
Duke reacted quickly, went up and pulled the zipper, seeing four Uzi submachine guns lying quietly inside, with over ten magazines beside them, all filled with 9×19mm bullets. At 20 rounds per magazine, there were at least over 200 rounds.
"Someone doesn't want us to live peacefully." Victor threw his cigarette butt on the ground, stepped on it, and spread his hands, "What do you think we should do?"
"Then we kill them," Best said.
"They want our lives, so I want their whole families dead. One gun each. If anyone coming in isn't a woman, fucking shoot them down." Victor picked up an Uzi and pulled the bolt, "In this business, it's about who's more ruthless. Even if Jesus comes today, I'll put a few bullets in his head."
Seeing his orders, Best and the others were straightforward, stuffing their pockets with magazines and finding four positions to hide.
About ten minutes later, two Chevrolets drove over from the distance. They didn't hide their tracks at all, obviously used to being arrogant.
They stopped outside the warehouse.
Six or seven people got out of the cars.
"You stay here. I want to see who's bold enough to touch our Juárez people." The leader was a man in dark green camouflage with a sturdy build, talking to Anna in the car.
"Amman, be careful."
The man pulled out a pistol from his jacket, and his subordinates behind him also took out weapons. Big companies were different - almost everyone had one.
Astra 357 police revolvers - from the name you could tell they were police station exclusive, produced by Spain's Astra Company for Mexico's Preventive Police Department. Ironically, police didn't use them, but drug dealers got them first.
Amman led his people into the warehouse. Seeing the pitch darkness inside, his eyebrows furrowed, feeling something was wrong. Just as he was about to warn: "Something's not right..."
Victor, hiding on the second floor crossbridge, stood up, holding the Uzi submachine gun and started firing directly. This was like a signal - Duke and the others attacked from both sides.
Just like cutting wheat.
Four or five people fell at once.
Three people with 80 bullets total, taking out six or seven people in the first round while having the high ground - did you think you were Ultraman?
Anna in the car outside heard the gunshots and her face changed drastically. She quickly moved to the driver's seat, fumbling with the gear shift, but she had never learned to drive - that required tuition money she was reluctant to spend.
Great...
The car spun like a top in place.
When Duke came out holding the Uzi, thinking she was trying to escape, he changed magazines and fired a burst, shattering the rear windshield. Anna inside was so scared she let go and covered her head, screaming loudly.
Facts proved that when facing fear, most women could only scream.
Best also came out, exchanged glances with Duke, and they slowly surrounded her in a fan formation. One was a police officer, one had been a soldier - they had basic combat skills.
Seeing Anna trembling inside, Best went up, opened the car door, and dragged her out by the hair.
The woman screamed and struggled, but it didn't arouse any sympathy from him.
After his whole family died and he was trapped in the slums, Best understood one thing - Mexico was fucking cannibalistic. He used to be bullied because he didn't dare resist, needing to survive. But now it was his turn to bully others - why show mercy?
He threw her hard to the ground, and Anna couldn't help but sob quietly.
"Buddy, you should be more gentlemanly with ladies. We do business reasonably."
Anna heard the familiar voice, looked up sharply, tears scared back into her eyes, "Victor."
"Good evening, Anna. Sorry to invite you this way. I just want to know who put the bomb in my office."
"I don't know, it wasn't me. Please let me go, Victor." Anna reached out to hug Victor's legs but was pulled back by Best grabbing her hair.
Hearing her words, Victor wasn't surprised at all. How would she talk without some methods?
He lowered his head and smiled, put a piece of chocolate in his mouth, rubbed his nose tip with his index finger, "You're making this very difficult for me!"
As soon as he finished speaking, he went up and kicked Anna in the face, stepping heavily on her face, glaring, "Stinking bitch, giving you face and you don't want it. Fine, bring out her brother."
Casare responded, ran back to the warehouse and dragged out her brother.
When the latter saw Anna, hope for life burst from his eyes, making muffled sounds from his throat.
"Your brother at this age doesn't do anything but deal drugs!"
"Being a drug dealer has no future!"
"Let him taste it first." Victor said.
Best took out a fire axe from his car trunk, casually "picked up" from the street. He stepped on Anna's brother's hand, axe raised, then dropped!
"Mmm!!"
Painful cries accompanied by weeping. When Best lifted his foot, the other was rolling on the ground in pain.
Victor squatted down, grabbed Anna's hair, "My patience is very limited. Tell me, who was it!"
Anna shook her head, just crying.
Victor smiled. It had been a while since he encountered such a tough bone. "Two more fingers!"
"Don't..." Anna quickly shouted, but Best grinned viciously and chopped off more of the other's fingers. Using too much force, even a middle finger flew in front of her. Anna went crazy, hugging the severed finger and crying herself hoarse.
"Already chopped four, six more to go. But I can't guarantee next time it won't be your brother's head." Victor's tone grew increasingly sinister.
Finally, Anna's psychological defenses collapsed.
She cried heartbreakingly.
But everyone in this business had to understand what dying an unnatural death meant.
And you see her crying so hard now, but how she usually treated others...
"It's Stepan Blancard! You beat him, he wants Victor dead, wants to blow him up before he'll feel better!"