I had 13 pairs of twos in my hand, and I thought I had a sure win by cheating.
Who would have thought the guy would pull out a royal flush and didn't even bother to disguise it, just flipped the table over.
In this part of the "resume," he saw a familiar name.
Theo Carlos Vieira!
His biological father.
His death indeed had foul play involved, but who would have thought the killer would be the senior who'd been "looking after" him all this time?
Just thinking about it sent shivers down his spine.
"Victor, what's wrong? Are you feeling unwell?" Webster asked softly as he put away his pen, "Do you need to rest for a couple more days?"
"No, no need." Victor waved his hand, forcing a smile, "Just a bit of a headache, it's nothing."
"So, what do you think of my proposal? The First Prison Zone is relatively safe."
Victor looked up and into the other's eyes, calm, concerned... benevolent?
Just like a senior truly considering his junior's best interest!
Damn it!
Victor felt a craving for a cigarette. Seeing one on the table, he pointed and asked, "Can I have one?"
Webster was taken aback at the request, looked down at the cigarette box with a smile, and nodded, "Of course." He pushed the box forward, indicating for him to help himself.
Just as Victor took a cigarette and put it in his mouth, he heard Webster say, "Victor, I remember you don't smoke, do you?"
He paused slightly in his movements.
"The stress has been too much lately, smoking helps me relax."
Webster didn't pry any further.
"Where's the most dangerous place in our prison?" Victor suddenly asked.
"The Third District, heavy crime area."
"Then I want to go to the Third District."
Webster's brows furrowed as if he heard something unbelievable, fell silent for a moment, then laughed, "Is today April Fool's Day?"
"Certainly not, sir. I just feel it's my duty. As a federal officer, I should be on the most dangerous front line, where the public needs me the most. I remember my oath..."
Webster's expression was quite expressive.
In Mexico, you remember your police duties?
Buddy, isn't this like playing with a lighter next to a gas canister—Abe—crows flying planes?
Drug enforcement has to rely on the navy.
The army? Those idiots have long since turned traitor.
Victor wasn't a fool, either. The leaders of the Third District sounded intimidating, but they were under strict control; they were only let out once every half-month, and unlike the First and Second Districts, the Third District's armed forces were significantly increased, with permission to carry HM-3 9mm submachine guns!
The usual Glock 17s weren't bad, either, the same as what the Yanks next door used. Of course, this was only for important facilities like El Altiplano. The other minor police stations?
Having a revolver would be pretty good.
They even turned into a joke where the police station in Alvarado City used slingshots, as personally ordered by the mayor, that twit must have taken drug traffickers' money.
Slingshots?
As long as the firepower is strong enough, I'm safe enough!
Most importantly, Mr. Gao felt that this prison was like a huge cage, trapping him tightly, uncertain when he could actually be killed by someone, and besides, his Golden Finger was useless in prison.
He surely couldn't intentionally let them escape and recapture them, right?
And next to Golden Finger was a small note: Subordinates' catches also count as points.
Isn't this just encouraging me to climb up as hard as possible?
He didn't hold back.
"Hey, hey! What are you doing? Stop it."
"Pull him back."
"Kill the cop!"
The atmosphere grew increasingly tense. Casare was very nervous, and the jail guards standing on the second-floor perimeter were already sounding the alarm.
A brawny man with year rings tattooed on his head was closest and moved fiercely to grab Victor, but Victor spun around, drew his gun, and shoved it into the man's mouth, all in one fluid motion.
"Make another sound and I'll blow your mouth apart."
A foreign object in his mouth, the brawny man became even fiercer, not scared at all, wailing and arrogantly pointing to his own temple as if challenging, "Shoot me dead!"
Bang!
The gun fired!
Instantly, the cafeteria fell silent. The brawny man clutched his left ear, screaming, blood seeping through his fingers, a severed ear lying on the floor.
"Shut your mouth!" Victor stepped hard on the man's mouth and put his finger to his own lips, "Shh, you're too loud, you know?"
Friedson Kulman was stunned with fear.
The jail guard...
Dared to shoot first?
That's not very Mexican.
"Everyone, get down! Don't think I'm joking. Anyone still standing will make my hand jittery, and I won't know where the bullets might go," Victor said with an unfriendly tone.
Most of those who end up in prison aren't fools. Those too stubborn are already dead. They all understand the saying, "Only the wise survive."
They obediently squatted down.
Just as he had gotten the situation under control, he heard footsteps. The emergency response team rushed in. Haggis Baird's face was dark. When he saw the scene, he raised an eyebrow, "What happened here?"
Casare hurriedly explained the situation from the beginning.
Haggis Baird nodded, "Take the injured to the infirmary, lock the ringleader Friedson in solitary, and starve the rest for three days."
After speaking, he turned to Victor and seeing his nonchalant demeanor, a flash of surprise crossed his eyes. He said solemnly, "I will report this to the Warden."
Their direct superior had been injured and supposedly couldn't work normally, so they were reporting directly to Webster.
"Of course, by the book," Victor said casually.
His actions were by the book. If threatened, he was permitted to use a weapon. This was Plateau Prison, not an ordinary jail. You had to be a murderer to get in.
Haggis Baird eyed him, "The man you just injured is not just anybody. He's the cousin of the leader of the Desan Knights."
Victor stared right back at him. The other frowned but held the gaze. However, it wasn't long before he felt his eyes sting and gave in.
"Do you know Dealey Plaza in Dallas, Texas?"
"What's that?" Haggis Baird furrowed his brow. He felt belittled, and his tone wasn't good.
"A president of the United States once lay there. Is there anyone of higher status than him?"
Victor chuckled, patting his shoulder and making a gun gesture with his fingers by his temple, "No matter how high your status, bang, one shot and you're dead. Isn't that right, Mr. Haggis Baird?"
Fury surged in Haggis Baird, who was about to speak when Mr. Gao pushed him aside and walked away. Casare hesitated, then gave an apologetic smile to the former and followed.
"F***! Son of a bitch!"
Haggis Baird kicked the dining table, his face sagging with anger.
"Victor, saying that, aren't you afraid he'll retaliate?" Casare caught up with a worried look.
"A tortoise might hide from a machete, but it can't escape a bomb. Now that we're enemies, it's do or die. Besides, if I don't make some noise, how will certain people be convinced to make a move?" Victor spoke cryptically, puzzling Casare.
"Just be careful," Casare said.
"Don't worry, I was at the hospital last week. The doctor told me my bone density is thicker than a bulletproof vest."
...