10:00 a.m.
50 emergency squad members boarded the troop transport, while Victor and Harrison got on a BTR-40 armored personnel carrier, which was painted with green letters that read: Prisión de la meseta de México (Mexico Highlands Prison).
With this thing, what bullets to fear?
It had cost Victor over 50,000 points to exchange, and although it was equipment from 1950, it was born in 1944, so it just missed the cutoff point of World War II, hence the price was a bit reserved.
Moreover, for fire power, a 14.5 mm machine gun was welded on it.
Yuri and Kost worked on it all night.
As for origin, if anyone asked, he could just push it off onto the former Warden. After all, who would care?
The gates of the prison opened slowly, and the convoy drove out of the prison.
The jail guards at the gate even saluted them.
Victor frowned upon seeing there were still quite a few shady figures lurking around outside; he grumbled, "Chase these people away. The Plateau Prison isn't some henhouse, what are they doing loitering at the entrance like that?"
"I don't care about other places; even if they go to the Presidential Palace to take a dump, it's none of my business. But on my turf, they need to follow the rules."
Harrison, sitting in the passenger seat, also glanced outside. Since the boss had spoken, he would act. He understood by now that by following Victor, at least he wouldn't go hungry.
And indeed, he truly stood up for his subordinates.
Harrison responded accordingly.
Miski Town, located southeast of Mexico City, has a nickname: "Ghost Village." It's often frequented by foreigners.
According to the Aztec calendar, every November 1st is the Day of the Dead, which usually lasts for about three days. According to Mexican folk customs, the 1st is the Day of the Little Angels, and the 2nd is the Day of the Dead.
It's to commemorate the deceased.
For instance, Pixar Animation Studios later released an animated film: Coco, which is about this festival.
Miski Town is named after Misko, the Indian goddess who governs life and death, and has a history of over 900 years. Read more exciting chapters on m vl-e-mpy-r
In 1403, the town became the central place of worship for the local indigenous people.
Upon entering the town, one could see residents and tourists everywhere dressed up as spirits, not even knowing at a glance how many people there were.
The sight overwhelmed Victor.
Harrison had already arranged a plan: groups of ten patrolled in five teams with the armored vehicle as the center, reporting any issues via walkie-talkie.
Of course, in such a large town, it wasn't just their group; there were also local police. He only hoped nothing would happen.
During the day, the crowd was still manageable; the only thing was that quite a few tourists reported their wallets missing. Victor didn't bother with such trivial matters, telling them to report it to the police station.
However, the chances of recovery were about as likely as a Komodo dragon surviving unscathed in India.
"Inspection!"
Victor's gaze swept over everyone. There weren't many people here, as there was a big party happening outside. Who would be playing video games?
He immediately noticed a man sitting in front of a gaming machine, wearing a tank top that revealed tattoos of a bat.
Victor approached with his team and stood behind him; the man was playing Street Fighter, a game that had become a global sensation since its release in 1987.
"Can we talk?" Victor said from behind him.
But the man turned around to look, gave him a disdainful once-over, then spit out his chewing gum onto Victor's shoe, and turned his head back.
Victor looked down at the gum, smiling genteelly.
Suddenly, he grabbed the arcade player's hair and smashed his head against the machine, shattering the thick glass and eliciting a scream from him.
The gaming machine's screen flickered a few times before going dark.
Unsatisfied, Victor continued to bang the head against the machine.
"Hey, what are you doing! Starting trouble?" the guy at the ticket booth shouted, and Harrison slapped him right away, "Shut it, who asked for your opinion?"
The guy was instantly enraged, ready to strike back, but a jail guard raised his gunstock and smashed it down, quickly subduing him.
After pounding a dozen more times and his hands started to ache, Victor let go, the man convulsing and his face covered in blood.
The shout from the youngster at the booth was quite loud, and a group of about a dozen people with clubs came running out of the arcade.
Standing in the midst of the group was a middle-aged man, dressed in a suit and glasses, who looked very refined. He frowned upon seeing his badly beaten subordinate, then raised his head to look at Victor.
"Sir, the young man is ignorant. I apologize for him. Please, for my sake, let him go," he said.
"For your sake?" Victor looked at him, nodded, and lifted his foot with gum on it, "Lick it clean."
At his words, the man's face turned dark, and the surrounding boys, even more emboldened, swung their clubs and charged at Victor.
Victor quickly pulled back the charging handle of the submachine gun in his hand, pointing it at them.
"Gentlemen, I'm here for a gunfight, a real man's gunfight, and you call yourselves a gang?"
"Come on!"
Victor pulled the trigger, two sounds of 'da da.'
Two of the guys nearby got shot, clutching their bellies as they lay on the ground.
"Oh~"
"Sorry, it went off, bastards!"
<img data-ywcc-imgId="10045904" data-ywcc-path="/imgChapter/23506817501037701/26228101101623904/10045904/53f1f9d7abbd6e33cb8cb9d386d0fb54KFVcxNsl5DhtLFp.jpg">
...