Night fell quickly on Guadalupe Island.
In the district named after Mexican independence hero Morelos, most residents lived at the bottom of society.
They mainly made their living doing odd jobs or fishing at sea.
But due to fighting between drug dealers and police, factories shut down, ports stopped operating, and even the only two schools suspended classes.
"Ugh, I'm really sick of those stinking police. Why do they have to fight drugs? Wouldn't it be better to coexist peacefully with drug dealers?"
"Yeah, my dad could make money working with them before. One trip to America earned $50, and he could buy me lots of toys. Now these police are blocking everything."
"I heard drug dealers are recruiting people to fight police - 300 pesos a day. Are you going?"
Several half-grown children sat under a big tree complaining to each other.
A thin figure carrying a basket walked by. Originally keeping his head down, but hearing their words, he seemed to gather courage, "That's not true!"
Those bigger children were stunned.
"Drug dealers are tumors! They're parasites of this country, they're killing people!" the little boy said boldly.
"What did you say! Santos, are you asking for a beating?"
"Beat him! Beat him! I think he's been asking for it lately."
"Kill this bastard!"
The bigger children shouted and rushed over.
The child called Santos stepped back in fear, but only one step. Then he raised his hands and angrily roared, "Justice can never be killed!"
"Long live Mr. Victor!"
"Long live Mexico!"
He charged at the children bigger than himself.
...
Valentina looked at the clock on the mottled wall, nervously frowning. Two corn tortillas sat on the table - this family's usual dinner.
Just as she was getting anxious and restless, wanting to go out searching, she heard the door open and saw a small figure walk in.
"Santos!"
Valentina hurried over. Seeing his condition, she was stunned, then worriedly asked, "What happened to your face?"
Santos's small face was covered in dirt and wounds, bruised all over. Hearing his mother's question, he grinned, showing half-broken teeth, "I'm fine, mama."
"I'll go wash my hands." He ran to the bathroom, standing on tiptoes, looking at his wounded face in the mirror, raising his fist to encourage himself, "Santos, keep going!"
When he came out, Valentina quickly had him sit in a chair to apply medicine. He grimaced in pain, picking up a corn tortilla to gnaw on, though it was tough.
"Residents of Guadalupe Island, good evening. I am Victor."
Hearing this name, Santos's eyes lit up. He quickly turned to look at the TV. Valentina tapped his head, "Don't move around."
Santos stared intently at the television.
Victor sat upright in police uniform facing the camera, with two armed EDM members standing behind him, "I'm pleased to announce that today we recaptured the Guadalupe Island TV station controlled by drug dealers. From 1840 to 1989, our relatives and compatriots have suffered under drug dealers' devastation. They have created inhumane slaughter on this originally peaceful land."
"But compatriots, please don't be afraid. When darkness falls, sunlight from afar is fighting hard. Even if small boats wandering at sea are scattered by strong winds, they will still choose to stand firm."
"We should become creators of history. Only this way can we be truly accomplished people. Mexico shouldn't be like this. The pursuit of truth and knowledge and fighting for them is one of humanity's highest qualities."
"Mexico doesn't belong to just one person. This country belongs to all of us. I have a dream. I dream that one day my children will no longer lose their childhood to drugs, riots, and arson. I dream that one day they can stand in sunlight and proudly declare: they are Mexicans!"
"Therefore, I hereby declare war on drug trafficking groups on behalf of Guadalupe Island Police Station. We will accept no compromise or threats. We will fight for Mexico to the last person, even if our blood runs dry!"
"I also sincerely invite everyone to join us. From today, Guadalupe Island enters martial law. No one is allowed out after 7 PM, or they will be considered drug dealers. I declare that any islander has the right to kill them. For killing a drug dealer, the police station will issue a $1,000 bounty and keep their identity secret."
"Long live great Mexico! Long live the great Mexican people!"
Victor spoke entirely without script, his expression solemn yet dignified. After he finished, the screen went black.
This station reached everyone on Guadalupe Island - meaning everyone on the island saw it.
Many people forgot to chew the food in their mouths, staring blankly at the TV.
Declaring war on drug trafficking groups?
Mexico hadn't seen such a fierce person since independence in 1821.
Some glanced dismissively, just muttering about politicians' theatrics, others waiting to see the joke of how drug dealers would kill him.
Of course, some people's eyes lit up - $1,000!
This money was enough to make many people lose their minds.
"Long live great Mexico! Long live the great Mexican people!!" Santos jumped down from his chair, raising his hands and shouting fanatically, then ran toward his room.
"Your head isn't cleaned up yet," Valentina called out.
"Mama, men shouldn't whimper weakly but should enjoy pain!" Santos said, standing at his room doorway.
Valentina was stunned, her eyes reddening - perhaps feeling her son had grown up.
Santos climbed onto his bed, carefully brought down a delicate small box and placed it on the table, opening it forcefully. Inside lay a police badge.
He picked it up with both hands, holding it close, looking up at the morning star in the sky. He seemed to see his bearded father from childhood wearing a police uniform holding him, telling him to become a police officer when he grew up.
"Father, please bless Mr. Victor from heaven. He's a good man."
Santos pressed his forehead to his hands, closing his eyes in prayer.
...
"Set up Browning M2HBs on the second floor. The TV station is key to controlling Guadalupe Island's public opinion."
Victor was willing to spend big - after all, there were at least nearly 10,000 people on the island involved in drug trafficking. If this group rushed together, the few hundred at the police station would definitely be finished, even if Superman came.
But drug dealers couldn't truly unite. These 10,000 people belonged to dozens of organizations, and many were on transportation lines - asking drivers to do gunmen's work required paying extra.
So drug dealers with actual combat capability topped out at 2,000, and they'd killed many.
But wanting to kill them all wasn't easy - they had to mobilize the people.
$1,000 per head was basically robbery.
But the more such places needed thunderbolt methods.
To pull everyone out of drugs required industry. Once society was somewhat stable (most drug dealers dead), they could open some processing plants so everyone had work.
Victor treated Guadalupe Island as his foundation.
"Let the bullets fly for a while."
(End of Chapter)
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