This sudden turn of events scared the girls.
They panicked and tried to run outside, but Casare blocked the door, so they could only tremble against the wall.
Being a prostitute in Mexico wasn't safe either - you could get caught up in revenge killings at any time.
Coming out to make some money really wasn't easy.
Victor took a glass shard and stabbed it directly into Wilbert's thigh, "I'll ask again - who did it!!"
"Olivier, it's Olivier!" Wilbert screamed, his expression terrified.
Who the hell starts fighting right away?
I just wanted some money!
If you want to freeload, just say so directly - could I disagree?
"Which Olivier?" Best frowned.
"Those Tezcatlipoca people. He wants revenge on you for killing his only brother!"
Best slowly nodded to Victor, "I think I know where they are."
"Then this person is useless, right?"
Wilbert was scared to death by this statement, raising his hands and shouting in terror, "Don't kill me, I'm useful. I can provide you intelligence."
"You're too expensive, sir."
Casare fired 7 shots at him, the last one a headshot.
Most importantly, you could offend Jesus and still pray, but if you offended Boss Victor and still wanted to live?
Who didn't know he was most petty... scratch that, most devoted to eliminating evil!
"Sir! Someone's coming!" The guard at the door opened it and shouted urgently.
"Let's get out first."
Victor took the Uzi submachine gun from Casare's hands. Just as he walked out of the private room, he saw four or five big men charging over. From their tattoos, you could tell they belonged to some gang.
Seeing they had guns, the others were obviously confused. When Victor raised his weapon, they were so scared they crashed through doors to hide in nearby rooms.
Victor's group seized the opportunity and rushed out. At the entrance, one guard even pulled the pin on a tear gas grenade and threw it at the still-dancing crowd.
That's what you get for not sleeping at night!
The thick smoke instantly filled the entire bar. Screams, panic, and crying rose and fell.
The group got in a red Mazda parked at the entrance and drove away.
When the gang members watching the place came out with runny noses and teary eyes, they could only rage helplessly on the spot.
...
"Who is Olivier?" Victor sat in the passenger seat, gripping the handle above his head, turning to ask Best behind him.
"His father was an avocado tycoon in Michoacán, but due to climate warming and slow agricultural growth, he felt he couldn't get rich, so he joined Gulf to do channel business for them. But once during transport, he was killed by the DEA. That's when Olivier took over his father's position."
"But he had big ambitions, broke away from Gulf to go solo. However, his business didn't last long before being beaten back by the Michoacán Family Cartel, finally coming to Mexico City."
Casare beside him was puzzled, "How do you know so much detail?"
"Because he does things very arrogantly without following rules, killing entire families at the drop of a hat."
"Does he have strong firepower?" Victor asked the question he really wanted to know.
"He maintains nearly a hundred gunmen, including but not limited to assault rifles. In Mexico City, this counts as rare firepower."
That made it clear.
Indeed, while neighbors store grain, I store guns - neighbors become my granary. As long as the caliber is big, your voice is loud.
"Any RPGs?"
"Haven't heard of any..."
"Heavy machine guns?"
Best shook his head with an awkward smile, "Boss Victor, ordinary gangs simply can't afford these things."
"Then what bullshit are you talking about? Are gang drug dealers really that good at fighting? What's the use of being good at fighting? When doing business, it's all about firepower. This kind of cancer should be eliminated!"
Victor lit a cigarette for himself, "Go get two pickup trucks to Warehouse No. 1. I'll show you what real firepower means."
Casare was afraid he'd go too far, "Boss Victor, we guards don't have law enforcement authority. If this gets too big, it'll be hard to handle."
This was the only bad thing about being guards - you couldn't act openly.
"Without uniforms, who knows who you are? I have one principle in doing things - whoever wants to jump, I'll crush them. A guy who sells avocados dares to shit on my head. Even if Jesus comes, he can't save him - I said so!"
Seeing his determination, Casare stopped trying to persuade him.
Best called Duke to buy a used pickup. When the group reached Warehouse No. 1 in Belgardes village outside the prison, Duke was already standing outside in the cold wind.
Victor knocked on the door. The wooden door opened from inside, revealing two blonde, blue-eyed foreigners who looked Germanic.
Mexicans were mainly Indo-European mixed race and indigenous people.
Casare and Best behind him looked at each other in confusion. When did the team get Germanic people?
This was actually after Victor's total points exceeded 10,000, the originally "dark gray" "Characters" section in his golden finger panel lit up.
He could obtain custom exclusive characters from it.
With gender, age, name, nationality, etc.
But according to the functions you added, the required points would increase.
For example, if you just needed an "ordinary soldier," this cannon fodder-level combat personnel cost about 2,000 points. But if you added "NATO Weapons Proficiency" on top, you'd need another 2,000 points.
If you had enough points, everyone could be fucking Stallone?
But it was adjusted according to position.
Currently as Inspector and Deputy Warden, he could only get 20 people.
Wasn't this forcing him to climb higher!!
Now it seemed that emergency team guards just needed some small money, so they were currently more cost-effective.
This golden finger - did it want him to be a police officer or a warlord?
He used 3,000 points to "create" two technicians with "Basic Welding."
One named Yuri, one named Koster.
Most importantly, they wouldn't appear particularly "wooden." Even if you stripped them naked, you could see hair where there should be hair.
"Boss!" Both men showed joy on their faces when they saw Victor.
"Where are the things?"
Yuri pointed inside, "Already arranged."
"Come, I'll show you what real firepower means!" Victor said to the two behind him, leading the way inside.
Best and Casare looked at each other, feeling the boss's smile was somehow malicious. Walking through the gate, their eyes immediately widened.
They saw a... cannon placed beside the boss!!
"M3 cannon, American-made. How about it? Weld this to the pickup truck and blow that bastard to pieces with one shot. Is their firepower bigger than my caliber?"
The two listened with wide eyes.
You're cheating!
They at most have some guns, and you directly use cannons?
Isn't this too much bullying?
Moreover, this kind of "battle pickup" also refreshed their understanding. Weapons could be used this way?
What really made armed pickups famous worldwide was in 1987.
That year, Libya and Chad had an armed conflict. The Libyan army was well-equipped at the time, while the Chadian army only had 400 civilian Toyota pickups. But the Chadian army mounted anti-tank missiles on pickups, using their mobile and flexible characteristics to maneuver with Libya's tank units in the vast desert, conducting guerrilla warfare, and finally defeated the invincible Libyan forces.
Mexican drug lords actually started implementing "battle pickups" in the early 1990s. In armed conflicts between Sinaloa and Tijuana, heavy machine guns mounted on pickups appeared, firing at crowds.
These things were cheap, sturdy, and durable - simply essential for home travel and firefights.
"Weld it on."
With Victor's order, Yuri and Koster got to work. Duke beside them had shining eyes. After Victor went inside, he said to Best, "Boss, the boss has wide connections - even got cannons in."
"This isn't a good thing." Best sighed.
"How so? Any problems?"
"If we really use cannons, what do you think those major drug trafficking groups will do? They'll definitely upgrade their equipment too. Places already rampant with drug activity will definitely become more brutal."
Duke clearly understood drug lords' nature. If they knew there was this kind of "gameplay," they'd definitely join in, escalating conflicts between drug lords into "war"!
There was also an "arms race" between drug lords.
Los Zetas once spent $60 million buying arms in 2009, even bidding worldwide.
Aren't you brain-damaged?
Who dares sell to you?
Can't you send faxes privately?
No! Can't you write letters?
Papua New Guinea, with over 8 million people, only spent $84 million on military expenses in 2017!
You drug trafficking group are more fierce than a country.
If Fortune 500 could include "illegal organizations," Mexico would definitely be the country with the most "enterprises" on the list.
"But does this concern us?" Duke hesitated, "Boss, in Mexico, others dying is better than us dying."
When you're about to be killed, why play saint?
"I'm just sighing, idiot!" Best said angrily.
"Come quickly, lend a hand." Casare shouted from the pickup truck.
"Coming, coming." Duke hurried over.
The group worked until dawn. They just needed to fix it in place, weld it so one shot wouldn't flip themselves over.
When Victor was called out to see the "battle pickup," he also felt the pressure it exuded. 37mm caliber couldn't be called a "gun," right?
Suddenly an idea popped up.
If he had a factory in the future, could he export these to Africa?
Selling them cheap should have a good market.
Can't sell to Mexican drug dealers - if they bombarded him, that would be counterproductive.
But he suddenly thought of a problem.
"Which of you knows how to fire cannons!"
(End of Chapter)
[Get +20 Extra Chapters On — P@tr3on "Mutter"]
[Every 50 Power Stones = 1 Bonus Chapter Drop]
[Thanks for Reading!]