Victor was a very insecure person.
As soon as he took the warden position, he saw the golden finger exchange number jump from the original 20 people directly to 40 - doubled!
And his points had risen significantly due to killing Pedro family members, now at 971,000 points.
He'd earned back quite a bit of what he'd spent before.
Indeed, the higher the capital, the more you earned.
He selected 3 technicians, who along with the previous Yuri and Koster formed the "Prison Maintenance Department." The rest were all created according to Kennedy Heisenberg's template.
The combat force suddenly went from 18 to 35 people, forming a reinforced platoon.
Moreover, Victor, who believed in "firepower is king," besides necessary individual weapons, also added M240 machine guns to Humvees and equipped two TPz-1 "Fox" armored personnel carriers produced by Germany's Thyssen-Henschel company.
One anti-tank rocket launcher per person.
Points were directly swept away by nearly 300,000.
Having money allowed such recklessness.
He also applied to Alejandro to establish a "special forces team" affiliated with the Prison Management Bureau, codenamed: El león de México (Mexican Lion), abbreviated: EDM!
The pretext...
Naturally suppressing prison riots.
Need to ask?
This was the benefit of official backing - even illegal armed forces could be "legitimized." If Victor were a drug dealer, heh heh heh, he'd probably be directly on wanted lists, and maybe special forces would be sent for decapitation.
But he was police.
Finally understood the importance of licensed employment, right?
With EDM, Victor quickly gained control of all prison blocks and planned to select some people from emergency teams as reserve members.
35 people was completely insufficient. If there were opportunities in the future... he could commission someone to visit the Soviet Union. Special forces there lived quite miserably.
In the office.
Victor hummed a tune in good spirits. Recently prisoners had been quite sensible, earning him considerable dollars.
Peeling an apple with a knife, the familiar female reporter's voice came from the TV. Victor had become somewhat infatuated with her lately.
Rich flavor.
"According to Mexican Police Department sources, drug trafficking groups Michoacán Family, Savage Legion (Legión salvaje), and Demon Alliance (Alianza demoníaca) demand the Mexican government release their prisoners held at Altiplano Prison."
"They also accuse Warden Victor Carlos Vieri of prisoner abuse and demand his dismissal, to be handed over to the Michoacán Family for handling!"
"Currently, the Mexican government has not responded."
Hearing his own name, Victor was obviously stunned. He never expected his first TV appearance would be with such "reputation." He stuffed the apple in his mouth and squinted.
He smelled something targeting him in the air.
Ring ring ring~
The phone on the desk rang.
Victor picked it up, his expression visibly darkening.
Interesting...
God was opening shop again.
...
Mexico, Clayton Cemetery.
This was Mexico City's largest gathering place for "individual investors." Many unclaimed prisoners, accident victims, etc. were buried here.
The lucky ones got tombstones.
Many poor people lived off the cemetery. Government departments needed many laborers to help dig holes, though wages were meager.
A naked child with a filthy face was digging soft mud with his hands. Suddenly hearing footsteps, he looked up with an earthworm still in his mouth.
He saw four or five men in black suits standing not far away.
The aura they emanated was somewhat frightening.
He instinctively wanted to run - in Mexico he'd learned survival - but the leading buzz-cut man waved at him and called out.
The child hesitated but still walked over.
Not going over... meant death!
"Sir, do you know where dead Altiplano Prison prisoners are placed?" the leader asked very gently, even calling a child "sir" - indescribably strange.
The child timidly nodded, pointing to the distance, "Over there."
"Thank you, this is your payment." The man pulled out $10 from his pocket and handed it to him. The boy was scared and waved his hands.
"Take it. Every help needs payment."
The man stuffed the money to the child and even patted his head, walking toward where he'd pointed. The child looked at the money in his hand and ran off.
"Mr. Cárdenas, the Mexican government has refused our demands!" a subordinate behind suddenly spoke.
Osiel Cárdenas walking ahead paused, looking up, "Looks like the gentlemen sitting in offices have forgotten what we look like. Let them remember - this is Mexico, where drug dealers call the shots!"
His subordinate quickly agreed, taking out his phone to give orders.
Mexico City immediately became restless.
A bus was traveling with many disabled people inside wearing yellow hats, smiles on their faces because they'd gone out to play today. Excitedly holding flags, they made peace signs at companions filming them.
"Ericka, smile, I'll take your picture." A young man who looked like he had Down syndrome held up a camera to the group leader.
The leader with braided hair was very young, about twenty, and petite - not having the tall build of Mexican women, not even pretty, with freckles on her face. But hearing his call, she smiled.
Her eyes curved like crescents.
Happily posing.
Boom... Bang!!!
Suddenly a dump truck crashed from the side. The driver instinctively swerved, directly hitting nearby landscaping.
Ericka, who hadn't stood steady, accidentally fell, but still anxiously asked, "How is everyone? Tonino? How are you!"
Before she could finish, she saw a pickup truck rush up. Seven or eight hooded militants got out, holding Valmet M76 automatic rifles and fired at the vehicle!
Bullets pierced the metal car body and Ericka's body. Blood splattered in the air.
Wailing, screaming, crying...
These drug dealers emptied two magazines at the car, then still didn't leave, attacking surrounding people indiscriminately.
Inside the vehicle.
The young man with Down syndrome called Tonino lay on the ground, still holding the camera, which played everyone's happy laughter.
"We went out to play!"
"We love Ericka!"
"Yeah!"
In the camera, still smiling.
They were young.
Mexico was chaotic.
...
Bang!
Victor hung up the phone, his whole being radiating intense anger.
"Resist tyrants! Resist tyrants!"
Suddenly shouts came from downstairs.
He ran to the window and saw thousands of prisoners running out from "work" sites, holding many "tools" in their hands.
Beating nearby guards.
Many guards were really pressed to the ground by them, having weapons stolen.
"Warden, trouble!" Emergency team captain Harrison ran in, fear also on his face.
"Time to fight, buddy."
"I order - no persuasion, sweep them all dead!"
..
(End of Chapter)
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