The next day.
Victor got off the armored vehicle with a weary expression.
He was truly too "great" - fearing drug lords might continue causing trouble at night, he had brought EDM to garrison Mexico City's most prosperous "Central Street."
About... 300 meters from City Hall.
Actually, he just didn't trust politicians' integrity. If they didn't give you a chance for "interrogation" and directly sent troops to arrest you, then Victor might be able to take out those high-and-mighty bigshots with one shot, right?
He'd been like this since childhood - couldn't trust others.
"Boss, your call from Mr. Alejandro." Kennedy Heisenberg crawled out of the armored vehicle and handed him the phone.
Victor took a piss, shook his bird, wiped his hands on Kennedy's body, took the phone, and said with a smile, "Good morning, Alejandro."
See, he wasn't even calling him Director anymore.
"Where are you? Just got notice - morning time has been moved to 8:05."
Victor checked his watch - it was 8 o'clock. He instantly understood those bigshots wanted to show him who was boss.
"Have them move it to 8:30. I'll come after breakfast."
Alejandro knew this would happen. Those idiots wanted to suppress his arrogance?
You'd need women to help blow!
"Victor, going head-to-head with them won't do you any good." Alejandro rubbed his temples persuasively.
"Sir, I speak quite directly. If they find me displeasing, let them take guns and shoot me. If they don't have the guts, please have them sit down and wait for me to finish eating before I come talk to them."
He hung up after saying this.
Hearing the busy tone from the brick phone, Alejandro helplessly cursed, frowning. He knew Victor's money wasn't easy to take. He could only take a deep breath, pick up his briefcase, get out of the car, and walk into City Hall.
Victor certainly couldn't go eat - there had just been gunfights yesterday, and martial law was still in effect. You couldn't even see street vendors.
He just sat in the car until time, smoking a cigarette.
People need to assert themselves. If you don't, others will think you're an honest person who's easy to bully. Don't believe that bullshit about gold shining - if someone covers you with a rag, you'll never turn things around for life.
Especially in violent places like Mexico.
Want to suppress Victor?
I'll blow your ass apart!
Victor dawdled until 8:40 before taking 10 EDM members to City Hall. Going alone made him rather "afraid."
Though there were guards at City Hall's entrance, they didn't come forward to question or have team members lay down weapons - this didn't conform to "Mexican national conditions."
All the way to the third floor, standing at that door, you could hear angry questioning inside - a woman's voice: "Alejandro! Where's Victor!"
"Too lawless, too arrogant! I've never seen such government personnel."
Victor forcefully pushed open the door, shouting loudly, "Then let me show you."
The interior space was quite spacious. Those 12 interrogators sat in a circle, with Alejandro standing in the middle being scolded by them, wearing a somewhat submissive smile on his face.
The interrogators were 8 men and 4 women. Victor casually scanned them.
All fucking smoky bastards.
Victor straightened his clothes, walked to Alejandro's side under everyone's gaze, looked left and right, spread his hands, "Gentlemen and ladies, where's my seat?"
These bureaucrats came to their senses.
They saw one wearing gold-rimmed glasses, dressed in a fitted black outfit, looking about 40, still charming, with quite large breasts.
She sat on the left side, face dark, "Victor, you're late..."
This voice belonged to the person who'd just been scolding Alejandro.
Victor interrupted her speech, "Late? Your scheduled time or my scheduled time? I don't accept what you scheduled."
This direct confrontation shocked the interrogators.
"Victor! Do you know what you're saying? Now you're a criminal..."
"Shut up!"
Victor rushed over with a fierce expression, forcefully slapping both hands on the table, "I'm out there in gunfights with drug dealers while you're here pointing fingers. What right do you have to call me a criminal?"
He grabbed her clothes and yanked hard, seeing a butterfly tattoo on her shoulder, sneering, "What's this?"
Not waiting for her to speak, he slapped her directly, shouting harshly, "What is this!"
The force wasn't light - it directly knocked the woman to the ground, half her face swelling up. Victor pointed at her and cursed, "A dignified Mexican government official acting like a whore, and you're talking about me? What right do you have to talk about me? What right do you have to talk about Alejandro?"
"Ptui~" He spat thick phlegm on her.
"Get lost if you're dirty, don't obstruct my vision." Victor picked up her chair, dragged it to the center, and sat down directly, crossing his legs, looking at others with very aggressive eyes, "Sir, I have a herniated disc - standing is uncomfortable. Getting a chair isn't excessive, right?"
Other female interrogators nearby quickly helped her up. The latter's face was full of tears.
Don't look at her crying - Victor found her resume quite "stunning."
Senior Assistant, Security Department.
Mistress of high-ranking Sinaloa leader Zambada!
Also a socialite who mingled among high-ranking security officials.
Often sold military police anti-drug information to Zambada. The Sinaloa Group had avoided crisis several times.
Such a person...
You want to judge me?
That I didn't blow you away shows my flexible moral bottom line.
Victor was irreconcilable with gambling and drugs for life.
Victor's "brutality index" immediately maxed out in everyone's hearts. This guy definitely had some psychological abnormality or distortion.
Bang bang bang!
Hearing hammer knocking on table sounds.
They saw a middle-aged man sitting in the center, looking very upright with thick eyebrows and big eyes. His expression was equally ugly, "Victor, I'll write this incident of you insulting and assaulting a superior in the meeting minutes. This is very unfavorable for you. I hope you can correct your attitude."
"We called you here just to understand the cause of events. We've received many anonymous tip letters saying you abuse prisoners in prison. Did this happen?"
"No." Victor said firmly.
"Then how do you explain this prisoner abuse matter?"
"You can call the accusers to let me confront them face-to-face."
Don't worry, I won't beat them to death!
The middle-aged man nodded, suddenly looked up, "Yesterday someone said you killed prisoners. What do you have to say about this?"
Victor spread his hands, "Slander, this is complete slander. If there's evidence, please arrest me."
"Then how do you explain Altiplano Prison suddenly missing over a thousand people?"
Victor looked at him deeply. It seemed the security department had also planted informants inside, but he remained calm, "They escaped. Yesterday there was a riot - they all ran away."
This technique of lying with eyes wide open made the interrogators feel somewhat difficult.
"It seems your prison management ability isn't very good, Officer Victor." The middle-aged man looked at him.
"Then you should commit suicide, sir, because you can't even manage Mexican drug dealers."
This seemed to anger the middle-aged man who slapped the table and stood up, "Please watch your attitude."
Victor had been impatient for a while. He stood up from his chair. Alejandro was startled, thinking he was going to hit the other, quickly grabbed him, saying quietly, "You can't hit this one - he's the Security Department's anti-drug commander."
Quite a high position.
Victor broke free from Alejandro, walked to the middle-aged man, pressed both hands on the table, looking into his eyes. The other still refused to back down somewhat defiantly.
He actually looked like a pretty decent bureaucrat.
"Mr. Luciano, I quite admire you."
Victor suddenly smiled, reaching out to brush the other's clothes, "Slept at your mistress's house last night, came to work today. Didn't finish the cocaine yesterday?"
"Oh right, you'd better hide the money Tijuana sent well - you'd be heartbroken if you lost it."
Luciano's eyes flashed, his expression immediately turning ugly, "What are you talking about?"
"You know what I'm talking about."
"You dare mess with me, Victor?" He grabbed the other's collar and pulled him over, picking up the meeting minutes from his desk, looking at the negative comments about himself, smiling, "Looks like you have opinions about me. Change it - change it to Victor being brave, intelligent, and of excellent quality."
"Impossible. You're threatening and slandering a superior. I will... Ahhh!!!"
Victor pulled out a knife and stabbed it directly through his hand. The table was also pierced through, blood immediately seeping out.
"I hate it most when people pretend, sir!"
(End of Chapter)
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