Dormitory building.
Many people heard the commotion and stood at windows pointing and commenting.
Webster held a cigarette, frowning as he looked at the second block. Already having deep furrows on his aging face, he now looked even more worried.
"Make trouble then, make trouble until others can't stand you, and naturally someone will deal with you."
After muttering to himself, he forcefully pulled the curtains shut.
This "new official's first fire" burned all night long.
Over ten people were hung in the yard, all troublemakers, now beaten beyond recognition - even their mothers wouldn't know who to look for.
Kennedy could at least identify his skull cap.
On the ground, cigarettes and magazines were piled on the left, while confiscated weapons and drugs were placed on the right.
Quite a few good items.
Victor even found a .38 caliber special police revolver produced by Miroku Corporation.
"Boss."
Casare walked over excitedly, "Counted them all. This time we confiscated 43 handguns, 326 bullets, and various other contraband."
This prison under Webster's management was simply a big sieve.
43 weapons?
Even Nurhaci only started his rebellion with 13 sets of armor.
"Waste!"
Victor threw the pistol on the ground, not knowing who this curse was directed at, "Tell the guards from now on - whoever helps prisoners bring things in better not let me catch them, or I'll throw them out."
Casare nodded quickly.
"What about these weapons and drugs?"
"Give the weapons to Best to sell. Damn it, we searched them out ourselves, so naturally we handle them ourselves."
In Mexico's arms market, even if you brought WWII-era weapons, people would want them. Eventually arm all 128 million people with guns.
Eventually counterattack America!
"Find a place to destroy the drugs."
"What about those with drug withdrawal?"
Victor was still quite humane, "Then hang them up so they don't run around. If they can't make it through, have the prison doctor write an accidental death certificate."
"Today punish all prisoners in the second block - no food allowed. They came to prison for reformation, not enjoyment."
"Yes!"
This fire completely boiled Altiplano Prison. The main blocks were only separated by wire mesh. When "light criminals" from the first block came out for activities in the morning, they saw a row of people hanging next door.
Many prisoners were also tied up by emergency team members and dragged to the yard like public display.
Many of these people knew each other, even finding their own bosses among the bruised crowd.
Noises, curses, and incitement rose and fell. Guards from the first block didn't even dare step forward to stop it.
More and more people gathered, picking up stones from the ground and throwing them at guards. The situation was getting worse.
Webster, who had just laid down not long ago, seeing this scene also had trembling legs. The first block had nearly 700 people!
"Release them!"
"Damn dog bastards, let them go!"
The wire mesh was swaying back and forth. Hearing the commotion, prisoners in the second block also looked excited - with enough people, we won't fear these police.
"Look what you've done. What do we do now?!"
Webster's face was ugly, blaming Victor when he saw him.
Victor's expression was very cold, "I haven't had breakfast and I'm in a very bad mood right now. Since prisoners choose armed rebellion, we have the right to choose armed suppression!"
This statement made Webster's eyelid twitch.
"What are you going to do?"
Victor held his rubber baton, looking at first block prisoners swarming like zombies in the distance, waving his finger.
"¡Todos listos!! (All ready!)" Casare shouted hoarsely.
Emergency team guards all raised their weapons. This behavior caused an uproar across from them.
"Fire!!"
Under Webster's terrified gaze, prisoners crowded in front were shot and wailed. Facts proved:
Bullets had more killing power than words.
These originally gathered prisoners immediately fled in panic, even causing crowding and trampling incidents.
"Do you know what you're doing, Victor! This is massacre. Stop, all stop!" Webster was so excited his face was red, spittle almost spraying on his face.
"Sir, I just want to tell you, in Mexico when dealing with criminals you should choose violence. Only when you're more vicious than them will they curl up like sheep!"
As for whether things would get too big and then get shot by people outside?
Too many people wanted him dead - was he short a few more?
As long as he wore this uniform, he could even openly supplement emergency team members and maintain justice with fists.
As long as I have enough people, I can't possibly be the one to die.
Discourse power was held by those with hard fists.
Why could Pablo be so arrogant? Because he was strong enough, had formed warlord strength capable of overthrowing a government.
He owned a private army of over 40,000, equipped with armed helicopters, warships, submarines, tanks, armored vehicles, even missiles.
Taken to Africa, he could almost sweep through.
At that time, the Colombian government was on the verge of collapse. Government forces didn't have weapons as advanced as Escobar's private army.
He even openly offered bounties on police heads - $1,000 per head.
Rumors said criminals from neighboring countries came over to "earn extra money."
Compared to him, Mexico's current drug trafficking groups were still "gentle" - at most dismembering bodies and crushing bones. But wanting to form military capabilities threatening government forces would have to wait for later "Los Zetas" and "Jalisco New Generation."
The current government still had military "capability."
If this were Colombia now, would Victor dare make such trouble? Maybe he would have already joined Pablo and cheered for him.
But regardless, if this "farce" spread, Victor's reputation would really resound throughout the land.
Not the first police officer who dared fight back against drug dealers, but definitely the first who dared confront them like this.
"You butcher!" Webster shouted very excitedly.
"Thank you, very nice nickname. I think you should go take care of those sheep's feelings, and tell them to be honest. In prison, I can kill them very easily!"
"Tell them never, ever to affect my mood."
After saying this, Victor left him a dashing silhouette.
"I will definitely report you to the superior."
Only a middle finger responded to him.
Do you know what kind of people can get promoted and rich?
Reckless warriors!
Smart people fancy themselves as wise men who look before they leap. They quietly wait for so-called opportunities, then grow old and lament being born at the wrong time.
The strong never complain about their environment.
Just one life anyway - could they kill me twice?
Victor always thought so freely. In Mexico, having no family meant no burdens or leverage.
(End of Chapter)
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