Colombia. Cali Cartel!
After the signal was cut, a long silence enveloped the room.
No angry roars, no vows of revenge, just suffocating quiet.
A core mber finally broke the silence, his voice as dry as sandpaper, "Better to end it ourselves than fall into their hands."
"Victor doesn't want a trial, he wants a performance. We're the actors in the next show," another chid in, their tone filled with deep helplessness.
Just then, there was a rapid knock on the door, and a subordinate burst in, pale-faced: "Boss! Ergency news! The Italians... and the people they've rallied are coming at us again! They're less than fifty kiloters away!"
"What?!" The room was instantly set ablaze.
The drug lords, who had just been imrsed in despair, leapt up like cornered beasts whose tails had been stepped on.
"Damn those Italian bastards!"
"Do they really think we're pushovers?!"
"Damn it, let's fight them! Even if we die, we'll take so down with us!"
"Show them sothing! Let them know Cali isn't dead yet!"
Curses, the sound of fists pounding tables, and the tallic clatter of guns being cocked filled the room.
"Boss! Boss, say sothing, boss!"
All eyes turned to the end of the long table at Gilbert.
At the peak of this frenzy, Gilbert slowly lifted his eyelids. His movents were slow, but they gradually quieted the clamorous curses, as everyone watched him, awaiting the order for a bloody battle.
Gilbert's gaze swept over the anger-twisted faces, and after a few seconds of silent pause, which felt endless, he spoke, his voice low:
"No fight."
!!!!
"What?" soone squeezed out in disbelief.
Gilbert's voice remained steady: "I said, surrender."
"Surrender?!!!" Shock quickly turned into more violent anger, "Boss! We still have guns! We still have n!"
"Gilbert! Are you fucking insane?! Surrendering to those bastards? Waiting to be dragged off for a performance of rcury torture?!"
"I'd rather die fighting!"
Gilbert slamd his hand on the table, the trendous sound imdiately dominating the room.
"Fight? How do we fight? Like Guzman, trapped in a rat hole, then dragged before the world, killed with rcury like so monkey on display? Let Victor, that bastard, stage another grand show?"
"Damn it, do you think I don't want to fight?!"
He took a deep breath and paused, his voice sinking lower, "You were right earlier, better to end it ourselves than fall into their hands, but have you thought about this? Victor wants us dead in battle or for execution scenes; death is the easiest way out. What about afterward? What about our families? Our nas will beco the next bloody emblem on his power stage, replayed repeatedly until everyone rembers the horrible fate of defying him."
He slowly stood up, exhibiting clarity: "Surrendering, at least we can choose a more dignified way to die, or maybe, just maybe, there's a slim chance our families won't have to see our faces lting in rcury on screens worldwide. We can't afford a grand death anymore, brothers. Now, the choice is about making this play... not go quite as Victor wants."
Gilbert took a deep breath, "Most importantly!" His voice wasn't loud, but it hamred at everyone's heart, quieting the unrest, "We must surrender, and it has to be to the Italians. Absolutely, absolutely not falling into the hands of the xicans."
This instantly left the previously clamorous subordinates stunned.
Surrendering was already hard to accept, and now they had to choose to whom?
"Boss, what... what's the difference? Isn't it all death?" A thickset officer hoarsely asked, eyes filled with confusion and deeper despair.
"Difference?" Gilbert pulled a bitter smile, "The difference is, falling into Victor's hands, we don't even get to choose how we die. He'll strip us bare in front of caras and turn us into 'artifacts' to terrorize the entire underworld in the most horrifying ways! rcury torture? That's just the start! He'll squeeze every last bit of dignity from us, turning our screams into the backdrop of his power!"
His sharp gaze swept across every face, forcing them to face this bloody reality:
"Do you think beating those Italians and their allies outside will change anything? Wrong! That will only bring about greater disaster!"
"Victor is just looking for an excuse to crush us completely! If we exhaust our last resources fighting the Italians here, drained, the xican army will swoop in like sharks slling blood!"
"Then, we won't even have the strength to sit and think about surrendering like now! We'll only be like trapped beasts, easily dragged out for the next performance! That would be true indignity, dying worse than a stray dog!"
"Surrender to the Italians," Gilbert's tone carried a hint of a desperate gamble, "there's at least a sliver of a chance for survival. Behind the Italians is the governnt, an army—they want achievents, dismantling the Cali Cartel, not creating a globally broadcast terror show. They have their rules, their court procedures. Even if it ends in a bullet, it's ten thousand tis better than being lted alive in rcury under billions of eyes!"
He pressed his hands on the table, leaning slightly forward:
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