Alvaro looked at the team member's expression of agony and hurriedly averted his eyes with some panic.
"Your name, military number, and purpose of coming here!" Victor demanded, staring at him.
But he was quite tough, refusing to speak.
Victor didn't indulge him, having someone tie one of his legs with a rope and then binding the other end to the Humvee. Alvaro panicked immediately, "Stop it, I am a soldier from another country, you have no right to punish me..."
No right?
Let your boss come and talk to me.
Boom~
The driving officer hit the gas, dragging him off.
He let him experience what's known as: extreme human-powered vehicle.
The friction on his back soon made Alvaro scream in pain, struggling to tear off the rope on his foot, but the stony roads of Guadalupe Island were ruthless, and as the car dragged him over a sharp stone, his clothes tore in an instant, cutting deeply into the flesh.
Blood instantly stained the whole garment, dragging a trail of marks on the road.
Victor leaned against the Humvee, smoking a cigarette, watching the returning vehicle, "Another round!"
The cigarette wasn't even finished, what's the rush.
The officer nodded, dragging the half-dead Alvaro for another round. His back was in a bloody mess, one leg bent at a 90° angle, broken.
By the time they returned again, Alvaro was swollen all over, covered in blood, and barely breathing.
Victor walked over, not minding the filth, and stepped directly on the man's face, plunging the dagger in his hand into the other's thigh, causing Alvaro to scream in pain.
See, even the toughest guys can feel pain.
Death isn't scary, pain is!
"Perk up, don't fall asleep now, can you answer my question now?"
Victor, so understanding, even his way of waking people up was filled with the "Victor-style" romantic touch.
"The Gulf Group's Abrego... Rego," Alvaro finally confessed, his face contorted in pain, barely able to catch his breath, "He put a bounty of 5 million US dollars on your head."
So that's how it is.
5 million US dollars!
No wonder even the Guatemalans were tempted, taking the time off from their official duties to earn some extra cash.
Victor's expression became serious, his tongue licked the inside of his lip, his eyes squinting, his demeanor calm, "My name is Victor, when you meet Satan, send him my regards, and wish him a good morning, good afternoon, and good night!"
Alvaro's eyes narrowed as he saw the man reflected in his pupils pulling out a gun and emptying his bullets into his head.
"Take care of them, gentlemen, Guadalupe Island does not welcome those filled with malice!"
Kennedy, holding a submachine gun, sprayed bullets at the Guatemalan soldiers who were kneeling on the ground, holding their heads!
"That bastard from Matatlan put a 5 million bounty on my head, not enough, he's too stingy. 10 million! No! 20 million US dollars, whoever kills him gets the money," Victor declared, waving his hand.
"Besides him, everyone from the Abrego family has a price on their head, this is the bounty set by the Guadalupe Island Police Station!"
Could Mexico really have that many enlightened people?
Alejandro remained skeptical; he pondered for a moment, then softened his tone, "Victor, there are too many drug traffickers in Mexico, and you're a threat to them now. They will find a way to eliminate you, you're not God, you can't predict your own danger."
"We should learn to step back appropriately, that's also for the sake of moving forward better."
Victor's eyebrows twitched, "Sir, I'm not God, not now. But I can pull the trigger, kill all the drug traffickers, and then there will be no danger."
"Jesus's hands are only good for blowing whistles, not suited for firing guns."
Even knowing him to be reckless, Alejandro was still shocked by his audacity; to speak ill of drug traffickers in Mexico was to court death.
"You'd better watch your words, Victor..." .net
"My name is Victor Carlos Vieri, not Un sirviente de Dios (a servant of God), and perhaps, Mexicans should sing praises of my name."
Victor glanced at his watch, "All right, SIR, remember to put in a good word for me when you take office, I'm off to have afternoon tea, goodbye."
With that, he hung up the phone.
Casare leaned in with his head, "Boss, you were brilliant. Don't worry, I don't believe in Jesus, I'll get my brothers and sisters to believe in you."
Victor couldn't help laughing at him.
"Mr. Alejandro is coming to Baja California to take over as head of the Security Department?" Casare whispered, seeing Victor nod, then furrowing his brows, "The guy who took up the position before him and his family disappeared while they were out, and just last month, the bodies of three people were found stuffed in sealed oil drums, discovered by a janitor."
"The killer was a minor drug trafficker who had pledged allegiance to the Tijuana Cartel, and he also committed suicide out of guilt."
"He was against drugs?" Victor asked, surprised.
Casare nodded, "He had arrested the son of Benjamin of the Tijuana Cartel, and the day after his disappearance, he was released."
If there was no foul play at work here, it would be more believable to trust that Mexico was free of drug traffickers.
"Mr. Alejandro probably..."
Victor suddenly spoke up, "How high do you think the chances are that he dies there?"
Casare was immediately taken aback.
"Don't be nervous, I'm just worried about sir, that's all!"
But intuition was telling him that it might not be the case.
"About 80%, drug traffickers prefer one of their own in power."
Casare, seeing Victor deep in thought, hesitated before saying, "Boss, I think it's in our best interest that Mr. Alejandro remains alive."
"What do you mean? I'm just concerned about his safety," Victor said without even blinking.
Having such a boss gave Casare a bit of a headache.
Hopefully...
May God protect Mr. Alejandro.
He's a truly good man.
...