Chapter 210: The Legend of El Cucuy
Alex stared in disbelief at what he was witnessing. The video was very clearly taken from his perspective, but was not at all what his memory told him had happened the previous day. From the moment the combat began, Alex kicked open the door of the pickup truck, and rushed through machine gun fire and automatic grenade launchers as if he were Lieutenant Spiers.
After closing the distance between himself and the enemy, and somehow miraculously surviving their attempts to kill him, Alex began to ruthlessly gun down the Jalisco sicarios as if he were the embodiment of the punisher. He even engaged in close quarters combat with some of them, kicking them into the wall, and repeatedly stabbing them with his combat knife.
By the time the rest of Alex’s team arrived at the entrance, Alex had not only killed the facility’s exterior defenders, but had also kicked down the door, storming the facility and gunning down the remaining Jalisco Sicarios entirely by himself almost as if he were a one-man army.
Apparently, during the crisis, those prisoners Alex thought he had decapitated in a display of brutality, fled the scene with their lives intact, while Alex murdered his way through the guards and sentries as if he were a living god of war.
His relentless and ruthless assault of the enemy was all caught from his own perspective and from his own camera. Alex could tell it was him, because his voice was recorded while he taunted the men he killed, calling them all kinds of horrific names, and mocking them for crying as he cut through them like wheat to the scythe.
While he was watching his murder spree, first hand, as well as the psychotic taunts, and laughs that he made with each kill, Alex genuinely thought that the video was more unbelievable than the memories he had in his head of the previous day. Or perhaps that was all a dream that tried to explain his drug fueled rampage in a way that actually made sense to him.
Either way, Alex was finally snapped out of his days by Selena’s seductive voice, which spoke to him in an almost endearing tone.
“Those bastards in Jalisco are already saying that this new “boogeyman” is more like a madman. They have posted already bounty on your head worth twenty-five million dollars. Not that it matters. They have no idea who you really are.
Though the more worrying part is, they have also posted a price worth a million dollars for any information regarding your identity and whereabouts that might lead to your capture and or death. I’ve got to see, when your team sent me the video you took, they told me you had snorted enough cocaine to kill an enraged rhinoceros before the firefight began.
I am ashamed to admit that I wept the entire night thinking I had lost you... But here you are alive, and well... Or alive at least, how are you feeling right now?”
Alex felt worse than he ever had in his life. It was if he suffering from the worst hangover anyone had ever experienced in the history of alcohol consumption. And thus he slammed his head on the table and confessed his current state to the woman.
Alex could live with killing sicarios. After all, they were just as despicable pieces of human trash as himself, if not Moreso. But beheading non-combatants? That might take some getting used to. Luckily for Alex, he had five beautiful Latina women in his bed who were more than happy to help him feel better. And thus, Alex spent the rest of his day nursing the worst hangover of his life.
—
La Madre was not exaggerating by any means. The feats of violence Alex displayed in his combat footage were something few men were capable of achieving. Alex had proven he had the destructive power of an entire platoon’s worth of soldiers, or perhaps even a company.
When he attacked that facility, there were dozens of armed Sicarios waiting for him, and he had cut through them like a knife through butter. Leaving no survivors and mocking them as he reaped their souls. This video was naturally spread by the Zetas to show off the humiliation of the Jalisco sicarios begging for their lives, and crying in the face of death.
In another corner of Mexico there lie a beautiful auburn-haired young woman. She was dressed in a translucent night gown, while sleeping on a pile of money and silk sheets. Though she was not directly involved with the Cartel, her father, brothers, and uncles were all bigshots in the Jalisco Cartel.
She was currently watching the video of men that she personally knew as they were being slaughtered like helpless little lambs by a masked man who mocked them all in English while he killed them in brutal fashion.
Judging by the tone of skin on this man’s forearms, and the fact that he spoke perfect English with an American accent, whoever this El Cucuy was, he was most definitely a gringo. To think that the Zetas were so desperate as to recruit a psycho from north of the border, it was both laughable, and in a fucked up sense, romantic to the young Drug Princess.
After watching the video for the eighteenth time this morning, Isabella closed her laptop and laid back in her bed, while staring off into space. Her eyes just so happened to fall upon her poster of a famous American fighter who was currently a rising prospect in the Light Heavyweight division of the Ultimate Fighting Challenge.
That’s right, this poster was for Alex. But she was not currently thinking about Alex, who until now had been Isabella’s number one husbundo. Instead, the young drug princess was thinking of this new killer, who was even more violent and crazed than Alex was. Or so she thought.
Naturally, she had no idea that the two men were one and the same, and thus a single thought escaped her lips as she envisioned her ultimate fantasy, with the masked El Cucuy being her new focus.
“Oh, El Cucuy... Won’t you kick down my door and take me away from all this boredom?”