"Don’t be nervous, Chief Svet," Mayor Leo de los Santos said with a smile, "these people are just expressing their right to march. There won’t be any trouble. Our citizens are simple and honest, don’t you know that? They’ll retreat tomorrow, you just go back and get a good night’s sleep."
"You..." Svet pointed at him, "the streets are full of corpses! Do you know how much damage has been done to the property of innocent people? The drug traffickers and thugs have tead up."
The other party, seeing his gesture, got angrily and slamd the table, "Don’t point fingers at , haven’t you learned any manners? In Hermosillo, I am the mayor!"
Svet’s mouth contorted with anger.
"My, Mayor Leo de los Santos, you really throw your weight around," Just then, a dull voice ca from the door as it was pushed open, and seven or eight n dressed in military uniforms entered.
"Who are you?! Who let you in!"
"I’m George Smiley, part of the Thirteen Protectors, Mr. Mayor, you should have heard of us."
Thirteen Protectors!
"Lapdog Faction!" Leo de los Santos’s eyes jerked with fear, blurting out the na.
The three words almost made a few of the Thirteen Protectors frown, but George Smiley remained composed and even smiled, "I like this na. I bite whoever General Victor tells to bite, even if they’re made of steel, I’ll bite off a piece of iron!"
General Victor’s vast enterprise naturally had factions, but unlike most divisions based on "political orientation," outsiders categorized his factions as the Lapdog Faction, Spiritual Leader Faction, and the Moderate Faction.
Lapdog Faction ant: I do whatever the General says, even if he orders to die there must be a reason for it, surely he wants to go after Jesus, with representatives being Casare and Kennedy Heisenberg.
Spiritual Leader Faction: represents those who are guided by the spirit of Victor, believing drug traffickers should be completely exterminated. According to dieval terms, such people are fanatics.
As for the Moderate Faction, it’s simpler: they believe drug traffickers should not be completely rooted out, as it would damage General Victor’s benevolence, and instead they should be sent to dical schools for human experintation.
Contributing to dical progress would reduce the sins of the drug traffickers.
"Leo de los Santos!" George Smiley, chief of the Thirteen Protectors, bellowed, "You are under arrest."
His subordinates went behind him, pressed his head against the table, and cuffed his hands.
"You have no right to arrest ! Call soone from the Governor’s Mansion..."
George Smiley grabbed his head, pulled hard, making him look into his own dals, "Thirteen Protectors, by General’s special permission, we take care of things the Governor’s Mansion doesn’t dare to, and even more so those they intend to!"
"You such a disgrace, you’ve shad the General."
Having said that, he grabbed a pen from the table, flicked off the cap with his thumb, and stabbed furiously into his neck!
The neck was rather thick...
The stab didn’t go through.
Leo de los Santos glared, his hands clawed towards George Smiley, but they crashed heavily in mid-air and landed on the ground, dead with eyes wide open, his head resting sideways on the table.
"Waste of space!" George Smiley looked on coldly, turned to Svet, who looked petrified, and the latter swallowed hard.
"Now you’re acting mayor. I want you to suppress the riot in Hermosillo within 5 hours, the National Guard will join in. It’s ti to give these ungrateful bastards a bit of a physical shock."
"Can you do it?"
Faced with his gaze, Svet’s heart jumped, but then his thoughts cleared, and he saluted, "Hi! Victor!"
George Smiley nodded in satisfaction.
There were still many who were grateful for the General’s favor.
Ard with the Imperial Sword, Police Chief Svet gave the order, "Charge! No rcy!"
That group of n and won sporting wild styles in black jackets hurled stones, feces, and Molotov cocktails at a prison.
Freedom! Release everyone inside!
The drug traffickers and many criminals inside were getting riled up too, shaking the iron doors vigorously and making "hehe" noises. When jail guards ca up to beat them with batons, they even dared to fight back.
Standing outside the cell, Warden Joachim Ribbentrop slipped on white gloves, his gaze as cold as a viper, took an Uzi submachine gun from his lieutenant, stomped his military boots on the ground, and led a charge inside.
"Let us out!" In a cell near the entrance, a criminal with dirty dreadlocks held up his fists and yelled. But upon seeing a fully ard Joachim Ribbentrop enter, he sensed imminent danger.
But before he could duck back, the leading warden started firing into the cell!
Around 20 people in a single cell, all dead!
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"Kill them all!"
The jail guards started shooting at the inmates and even threw grenades.
With over 700 criminals in Emosiye Prison, it was just a question of bullets.
Bodies were strewn everywhere!
On beds, on floors, in toilets...
Joachim Ribbentrop liked his handiwork, even photographing everything inside the prison.
Hmm...
Perhaps one day, he’d submit it for a Pulitzer Prize consideration.
"Boss, we’ve received a ssage from the mayor’s office to disperse and arrest the troublemakers outside," a lieutenant reported.
Joachim Ribbentrop twisted his brow, inhaled deeply, and commanded, "Set up the fire god cannon on the wall, blast them to death!"
"!!!" The lieutenant felt his skin crawl, swallowing hard.
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