Alexandr Konstantinovich pushed open the door wearily, he lived in the slums, a place exuding stench and chaos.
With his unkempt beard, one couldn’t tell he was a 21-year-old man.
Just as he had arrived ho, three little girls rushed over to him—they all looked very young and emaciated due to malnutrition, with sparse hair.
"Big brother, big sister hit today."
"Big brother, big brother, are you tired?"
"Big brother, I’m hungry."
The children clamored, Konstantinovich patted their heads, "I’ll get you sothing to eat, you guys watch TV first."
His smile was bitter as he turned on the TV for the children and walked into the kitchen.
By his na, one could tell he was not purely xican; his father was Soviet. Back then his family was doing well with a farm in the countryside, but because the drug cartel wanted to cultivate DM, they demanded his parents sell at a ridiculously low price.
But that was the livelihood of a family, and his father, a hot-tempered Soviet, refused to comply at all costs.
The drug trafficker let him really understand what it ant to be unreasonable.
They just killed his father!
When his mother went to report it to the police, she was beheaded by a drug trafficker in the police station.
Konstantinovich could only survive by working odd jobs for others, but recently, with the xicali drug traffickers causing trouble, even the grocery store where he worked was robbed empty.
The drug traffickers, however, were recruiting.
300 pesos a day.
He had seen his neighbors go to work for them, but in the end… they disappeared.
Money from the drug traffickers is not so easy to earn.
Konstantinovich opened the food cabinet and saw two corn cobs inside, enough to fill their stomachs for a bit.
"I am Victor, the head of Guadalupe Island Police Station."
"This here is the execution site for drug traffickers!"
Just then, a strong male voice ca from the TV, commanding a convincing presence.
Executing drug traffickers?
Konstantinovich raised an eyebrow in curiosity and walked to the doorway, only to see his three sisters huddled together, playing with blocks, while on the TV screen, a rugged man stood with an empty space behind him.
"We have co to xicali to restore local social order. Any action that dares to obstruct the xican people’s desire for a peaceful life is a provocation to us!"
"Here with , drug traffickers are only sentenced to death! Those few are core mbers of the Sinaloa Drug Cartel, and we will broadcast their execution live."
Victor stepped aside slightly, and the cara swept behind him, showing a line of police officers escorting seven or eight drug traffickers, then binding them together, restraining their hands and feet.
"We will use an RPG to send these drug traffickers to the skies."
RPG!
Many citizens had already widened their eyes when they heard about the execution of drug traffickers, as xico didn’t have the death penalty, and this did not align with their values.
A police officer carried a rocket launcher and aid it at the traffickers from a hundred ters away.
Konstantinovich held his breath and tensed into a fist, his nails nearly embedding into his flesh, as he watched the kneeling officer pull the trigger.
The rocket flew at a speed visible to the naked eye.
And exploded right in the middle of the drug traffickers.
Boom!!!
Konstantinovich saw one man blown into the air, dismbering in mid-flight, and he actually felt thrilled!
Drug traffickers deserve to die!
So of the traffickers weren’t dead yet, a number of them lay on the ground, crying out in pain; Victor ordered soone to gather them up again.
Fire another shot!
Why should the death penalty be carried out only once?
If they’re not dead, continue.
Send their souls to Satan.
Boom!
The second rocket ensured even the toughest among them turned into a jigsaw puzzle.
Many residents in front of the TV trembled with fear at the sight, yet so couldn’t help but shout out.
Victor pointed to the cara, "Don’t be nervous. If anyone is dealing drugs, I’ll find you, then I’ll crack open your skull and piss inside it!"
"Also, the Guadalupe Island Police Station has officially arrested Zambada, the number two figure of the Sinaloa Group. His execution will be carried out on April 11, 1990, in xicali Heroes Square, with a firing squad using no less than a 120mm caliber, and it will be broadcast live."
"The Guadalupe Island Police Station reminds you, do not deal drugs, be careful not to wipe out your entire family!"
"I am always watching you."
Victor’s gaze made Konstantinovich feel frightened on the other side of the TV, like being stared at intently by a wolf.
As if in the next second, the adversary could burst out and tear him apart.
But then Konstantinovich was excited, his eyes lit up, and an idea burst into his mind.
Follow Mr. Victor!
Kill all the drug traffickers!
He could take his revenge!
Konstantinovich had also served in the military, but then he turned to look at his three sisters, his eyes filled with indulgence.
His gaze turned to the prominent family photo beside the TV.
A tall man embraced his wife, standing in his military uniform, while three younger sisters curiously hugged his legs.
At that ti...
His family was still very happy.
"Drug traffickers should all die!" Konstantinovich looked up and muttered to himself.
...
"Drug traffickers should all die!"
In a park on Guadalupe Island, a large screen was set up.
Victor did it so that whenever he wanted to speak, he could be heard and seen—he was a bit of a show-off.
Watching those drug traffickers being blown to the skies.
Santos, in the crowd, raised his hand and shouted loudly, his buddies cheering along.
The whole of Guadalupe Island was screaming.
Only when there were no drug traffickers did people realize how good life could be.
You wouldn’t have to worry about bumping into soone on the street, scared they would pull out a gun and kill you, nor fret about being caught up in a shootout while dining out at a restaurant.
You wouldn’t have to fear that your parents, who were chatting with you today, would be forever parted from you by tomorrow.
Peace and tranquility are the most precious things.
"When does the police academy start? I can’t wait to join," his good friend Campos said, scratching his head. "But I’m worried I don’t have enough knowledge!"
The other buddies around him sighed in response.
Santos raised his hand, "Don’t worry, you guys can co to , I’ll tutor you, and then we’ll enter the police academy together!"
"Really?"
"Thank you, Santos."
Listening to his buddies’ thanks, Santos straightened the cap on his head and smiled happily, "Follow Mr. Victor, eliminate the drug traffickers!"
His buddies also chanted along with him.
Santos was known as a devout "Victor Believer," and he had gathered quite a few companions, advancing on the right path.
Looking at this lively group of kids, the adults around smiled.
Their own childhoods were filled with violence, intimidation, and drugs. Many hadn’t received an education, but they did not want the next generation to endure the sa.
Mr. Victor was the hero of xico!
...
Cannon decision!
120mm caliber.
Guzman, watching Victor on TV, felt a shudder in his heart, even though he was as fierce as they co.
Wouldn’t the air be filled with Zambada?
"What are you doing! Get out of the way!"
"You, Guzman’s lackey, move aside, I want to see Guzman!"
"CNMDB! Who are you talking to?"
A commotion erupted at the door, and Guzman’s face darkened. He stood up to open the door and saw two groups confronting each other outside.
One was the Beltran Leyva brothers.
The other was two brothers from Zambada.
Both parties had even drawn their guns.
"What are you doing!" Guzman bellowed. "We’re all our own people, are you trying to start a war with each other?"
"Guzman, I just want to ask you one thing. What about my brother? Are you going to save him or not?" The one with the large face opposite was Zambada’s second brother, nicknad the "Sinaloa Wildcat": Ismail Zambada Wicks.
He was quite hot-tempered and had butted heads with Guzman many tis.
"Watch your manners, you idiot!" Arturo, the eldest of the four brothers, pointed at him and said.
Ismail glared back, not willing to show weakness.
Guzman’s temples bulged with veins, his face grim, "Save him! Of course, save him. Zambada is my brother; do you think I’m the kind of person who abandons his own?"
Not saving him would an real internal strife.
"But we can’t do it alone, we need to contact Juarez and Gulf Group. To save Zambada, we definitely need their help."
Ismail pointed at Guzman, "You’d better be telling the truth. Otherwise, I will take our n and break away from Sinaloa!"
After saying that, he left with his people.
"Cousin, shall I take n and kill him?" Arturo said in a low voice.
"Act, act, act, all you know is action! We need to use our brains," Guzman cursed, frowning. "If you kill him, by tomorrow we’ll have to disband!"
He inhaled sharply from his cigarette, then flung the butt on the ground, his face fierce.
"If Victor won’t let us live, then we’ll make him suffer!"
"First, we’ll contact Abrego and Aguilar; we’ll take on Victor!"
Guzman’s eyes flickered.
But rely being reckless wasn’t his style.
He planned to...
Surrender to the xican Governnt.
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