Mexico City suburbs.
This place was desolate. Even drug dealers were too lazy to come here at night.
What they showed on TV were all bullshit plots - like drug deals in these remote mountains and forests wouldn't get you caught.
That would be more conspicuous! Idiot!
This was Mexico - they could trade in glittering KTVs. What would they come here for?
Under moonlight, you could see a small house covered in spider webs outside, looking like it had been abandoned for quite some time.
"Woof!"
The dog's low growling made Songwu's whole body tense, his scalp tingling. He was hooded, couldn't see anything, but his body was tightly bound - this was most terrifying.
Suddenly, his head felt loose. The hood was removed. The sudden light made his pupils adjust for self-protection. After a while, when it eased up, he just raised his head and saw a dog looking at him fiercely, drool at the corners of its mouth, sharp teeth gleaming.
"Grr~ Woof!" The dog snarled and tried to rush forward but was held back.
Songwu swallowed, trying to keep himself calm. His fierce gaze swept over those present, wanting to see if there were any familiar faces. He really did see one.
"Ryan! What do you want!"
"You still remember me?"
Ryan didn't speak. Holder standing beside him spoke first, looking at this "long-missed" enemy, his breathing becoming rapid.
How many nights had he curled up on wooden plank beds in poor areas, enduring freezing winds that could kill, bearing the humiliation of being beaten - he just wanted to live, he wanted revenge!
Songwu looked at him, confusion flashing in his eyes.
Mainly Holder had changed too much. Burns had left scars on his face, and his temperament had become completely different.
"Heh, looks like you forgot."
Holder limped slowly toward Songwu, "You never expected the fire didn't burn me to death, did you?"
Songwu's expression went from initial bewilderment to suddenly widening his eyes, "You're Holder!"
"See, you can still remember me."
Holder smiled, grabbed his hair, and yanked it back hard. In Songwu's terrified gaze, he leaned close to his ear, "I've come for you!"
Gulp~
Songwu's Adam's apple bobbed. The alcohol in his system instantly disappeared. Looking at Holder, he tried to explain, "I didn't set that fire. I never thought of burning you to death."
Explanations were always so pale and powerless.
"Don't worry, go confess to God. He'll forgive you."
Hearing this, Juan loosened his grip on the dog. The Bordeaux Mastiff lunged toward Songwu under his terrified gaze.
"Ahhh!!!"
The Bordeaux Mastiff bit his thigh, shaking its head violently.
Songwu struggled desperately, even knocking over the chair. The dog bit his face, snarling as he screamed in pain.
Even Juan felt sick.
"Inject him with adrenaline. I want to watch him get bitten to death." Holder obviously didn't want to let him off easy, even specially buying this "suffering miracle drug."
"Kill me! Kill me! Kill me!"
Songwu rolled on the ground in pain. Dog bites were no joke - about as forceful as a girlfriend's bite.
"Don't worry, I won't let you walk alone. I'll send your 3 mistresses and 8 children to see you. Oh right, I killed your mother Shaina. I tied her to the toilet... then..."
Holder spoke of the murder like a devil, his expression somewhat crazed.
Don't advise people to be generous, and don't think they're extreme.
It's just suppressed madness waiting to be released.
Advising people to be virtuous - may heaven strike with thunder!
Songwu's screams lasted all night. Every time he was about to faint, they'd inject him with adrenaline.
By dawn, you couldn't say only a skeleton remained - that was a bit exaggerated - but there was hardly any good flesh left.
The Bordeaux Mastiff, having eaten its fill, lay beside sleeping.
Holder stood before Songwu, who was barely breathing, without strength to speak. He took a knife and finished him off.
"Cut off his head and throw it in a garbage bin."
Walking out of the hut, standing at the door, the sun outside slowly rose.
"That morning glow is really beautiful." Ryan walked over and handed him a cigarette, looking at the distant red sky filling the horizon with sentiment.
"Yes, it's dawn."
Holder's eyes reflected memories. Looking up, the horizon seemed to have his former family of four - his parents were still young then, they still had a home then, it was very warm then.
But...
Growing up, it all disappeared.
Mexico didn't deserve to contain warmth.
Two grown men stood at the door, leaning against the doorframe, gazing at the rising sun. The afterglow illuminated both men, their shadows behind them also touching the light.
...
Songwu's head was found in a garbage bin.
The sanitation worker's mood was like taking drugs then discovering the prostitute you found was a man.
No manners at all, completely inconsiderate of sanitation workers' feelings!
Juárez people came to take the head and sealed the hut.
But the people had run - what could you do?
However, Juárez people definitely wouldn't let this go. All of Mexico City was jittery - this was already the second attack targeting Juárez this month.
They had reason to suspect it was those major organizations causing trouble.
However, these matters didn't hinder Mexico's New Generation. Their business was even thriving - they'd done two more deals, though with small customers, selling less than $20,000.
But this was still a good start.
If arms dealing wasn't so sensitive, Victor would have considered asking how much TV advertising cost.
You should know Mexico was a "strict gun control" country. That's right, the entire country had only one place where you could buy guns. Even police equipment had to be purchased there.
Drug dealers all used stuff from black markets.
Drugs could soften people's will and destroy bodies, but if arms proliferated, that would shake the ruling order.
Believe it or not - advertise today, counter-terrorism tomorrow. Not just anti-crime operations, but Americans would come too. They didn't want internal chaos in this nearby subordinate.
"Victor~"
"Good morning, Victor~"
Because of the "exercise confrontation" incident, Victor's reputation in prison had almost done a 180-degree turn. Many people were happy to talk with him - his "connections" had opened up.
Victor maintained friendly smiles and nods to them all.
These people would all be "helpers" in his future career.
"Hey Victor." A female officer in uniform and black stockings stood at the monitoring room door, waving when she saw him.
"Ardama, good morning. What can I do for you?"
This was Anna's replacement, now head of psychological intervention - essentially a madam. She was drop-dead gorgeous.
You could deny drug lords' humanity, but not their aesthetics.
What kind of trash would they use to serve the bosses?
She was also Warden Webster's new secretary.
"The warden asked me to give you this document from the Federal Preventive Police Prison Management Bureau." She handed over the document. Hearing this name, Victor felt something was wrong.
Ardama continued, "Because your law enforcement caused one criminal's death and another's serious injury, the Federal Preventive Police have issued you a suspension, pending investigation by the affairs department before further action."
This was...
Using official power to go after him?
So-called administrative leave?
Prison guards were already standing at office doorways looking this way.
Victor opened the document. It was indeed as she said, with an official seal below. He nodded, put away the letter, and very politely thanked Ardama.
"From now on you're not allowed in office areas."
"No problem."
Victor smiled, walked two steps, then turned back, "Ardama? My salary should still be paid to me, right?"
Ardama was stunned. You still care about that?
"Of... of course."
"That's good. My salary has to support my family."
Victor tore the document in half and threw it in the trash, his mood not as relaxed as his expression appeared.
Now it was suspension, but tomorrow there would definitely be news: "After investigation, Victor has serious dereliction of duty. Dismissed from position, referred to disciplinary inspection department for prosecution."
If not for fearing too direct methods, Webster could have delivered both suspension and dismissal papers together.
Then he'd be fish on the chopping board, at others' mercy.
Indeed, those in officialdom had much more subtle ways of killing people than drug lords.
He went to the second block and found Casare on duty. Hearing about his suspension, the other frowned but patted his chest directly, "Boss, you can't lose your police identity. Don't worry, I'll handle this."
In their plan, they'd use the company to provide Victor financial and other support, facilitating his climb up the ladder as the group's protective umbrella.
Without some methods, did they really think he was easy to bully?
Sir, work shouldn't be taken too seriously - it's easy to risk your life.
(End of Chapter)
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