Ensenada City, a meeting room in the city hall.
Four people sat down, those who knew each other were exchanging glances, occasionally glancing at Victor, who was sitting in the chief seat.
On their way here, they had already found out about the incident.
The corpses of drug traffickers they saw on the road were his doing.
Now, who in Mexico does not know Victor?
That's the notorious "Drug Enforcement Warrior", but it's said that he's got a foul temper.
Victor looked at his watch, smiled, and stood up, "Gentlemen, you're all..."
"Wait, wait~"
Before he could finish his sentence, a man dressed in a police uniform and wearing gold-rimmed glasses rushed in through the door, waving his hands and smiling at everyone, and then with a plump, sat down on a chair.
"Who is this?"
"I am Director Herrera Garcia from the Caste Police Department."
Victor raised an eyebrow, nodded with a smile, and glanced at his watch, "You're two minutes late. We agreed on nine thirty, didn't we? This..."
"No need to be that strict, Mr. Victor. Actually, I had matters to attend to, but I postponed them for this meeting with you," waved Herrera Garcia.
"Oh? So you're giving me face after all."
"No problem, it's mutual help," said Herrera Garcia, slapping Victor's shoulder.
Casare didn't dare to turn his head to look at the boss; he could only glance out of the corner of his eye. It was over! The boss was smiling!
Victor glanced at the hand on his shoulder and swatted it away with a slap. He wasn't light-handed; the other party was stunned and fell to the ground. Victor pushed the table out of his way and kicked him!
A kick landed squarely on his face.
"Face? What are you that I should give you face? Fuck!"
Victor picked up a chair and smashed it onto the man, curling him into a ball like a shrimp. The other police chiefs hurriedly moved aside out of fear.
Herrera Garcia's glasses were shattered.
The man was knocked out cold.
Victor waved his hand, exhaled deeply, and turned to the others, "Remember, I don't need anyone to give me face. If you're not convinced, call some people, and let's have a showdown to see who's tougher. If you're not up to it, keep a low profile."
He pulled out his wallet, counted a stack of US dollars, tossed it onto the man, and said to Casare, "Take him to see a doctor."
Fatty Tiger quickly called two officers to drag Herrera Garcia out.
Victor sat down on a chair, lit a cigarette for himself, and, looking at the other chiefs who were still shaking while standing, patted the table, "Why are you all standing? Am I that frightening?"
The group hastily pulled over chairs and sat down, each sitting more upright than the last.
All cowards!
"Rest assured, I, Victor, always make sense in what I do. What kind of person is Herrera Garcia? Don't think I don't know; he's from the Tijuana Cartel."
"Does such a man deserve to sit with me?"
The chiefs chuckled awkwardly below.
"Right, right, Mr. Victor is correct."
"Exactly, we all oppose sitting with someone who fraternizes with traffickers!"
One by one, they acted cleaner than the others.
Yet one by one, they were incredibly nervous. Who among them was clean?
Victor's lips curled in mockery.
He tapped his fingers on the table twice, and the people below promptly shut their mouths in understanding.
"I've called you here not to fuss about trivial matters, but for one thing."
"The Tijuana Cartel must be eradicated from Baja California State!"
Everyone's face changed drastically at the announcement, and they sat as if on pins and needles, looking at each other, thinking about fleeing.
Victor watched this scene unfold with a light chuckle, "What are you afraid of? Ramon and his brothers under Benjamin were killed by my men. Isn't it easy to deal with the rest of the small-time drug traffickers?"
"Vic... Director Victor, it's not that we don't want to do it, we just don't have the power," a chief blurted out. He shivered as Victor looked his way, visually recalling how Herrera Garcia got beaten, and quickly added, "The cartel's firepower is intensifying. They're equipped with assault rifles, grenades, and even rocket launchers — we can't handle this."
"Yes, yes! I heard Benjamin even acquired two armored vehicles from the United States. Our police stations are still using revolvers; we just can't."
"I heard that Tijuana City Police Department hasn't received salaries for three months; cops are selling ice pops on the streets to survive."
"But that's the fact. When I, Victor, handle matters, I always focus on the evidence!"
While saying this, Victor grabbed Rickens, who was closest to him, stuffed the piece of paper into his mouth. The man struggled hard to spit it out, but it was already torn.
"Oh my!"
"Rickens, you're capable of destroying evidence like this, this is outright contempt of the law!"
Victor was really angry.
Casare walked in just in time to hear this sentence and immediately understood it was his turn to go into action again, bringing the officers up to pin the three men to the ground.
"You're lawless! Victor, you're a disgrace to the police, this is defamation, I'll sue you!" Rickens fumed.
He just couldn't hold back anymore and let out a curse.
"So you're attempting to assault an officer on duty?"
Suddenly, Rickens stopped struggling. He was a wily old fox and knew Victor's words all too well; back when the Tijuana Cartel sought his help, he enjoyed using this excuse to kill his targets.
"He must not be very satisfied with my judgment, let him go ask Jose Lopez, the Mayor," Victor said to Casare.
The latter nodded expressionlessly and, grabbing Rickens by the hair, dragged him out of the door.
The remaining two kept their mouths shut.
To see Mayor Jose Lopez?
Hadn't that guy died?
Victor has "superpowers"? To send someone to God!
"Don't worry, someone will judge your sins."
That was Victor's parting gift to his former boss Alejandro.
The latter was about to take office; he had to give him some accomplishments, right?
Victor was good in almost every aspect except for a short temper. But was that really a flaw?
After the officers took them away, Victor turned to look at him, trembling in the corner like a pitiful bug.
It was too terrifying!
Four people had come in, and now he was the only one left.
Even horror movies usually have at least two main characters who survive, right?
When he saw Victor looking over, he hurriedly mustered a smile, "Vic... Mr. Victor, I..."
"Care for a smoke, Mr. Salvador Guillermo?"
Victor offered a cigarette, and the other man waved his hands, "No... I don't, oh, wrong, wrong, thank you, thank you."
Guillermo quickly took it with both hands.
Victor smiled and nodded.
"I recall you worked in Tecate, right?"
The man nodded eagerly.
"Go back with confidence, bring your wife and kids to Guadalupe Island, it's safe here. You wouldn't want the drug traffickers to retaliate against them, would you?"
Guillermo nodded grimly.
"Don't worry, from now on I've got your back!"
"Anyone who touches you is disrespecting me, Victor."
"As long as you keep the peace in Tecate, I'll find a way to promote you. You don't want to stay at the bottom forever, do you?" Victor patted his shoulder.
"We are police officers; we must guard the bottom line. If even we can't maintain it, then there will be no morality left in the world."
Among these four, Guillermo was probably the one with the "least" faults.
He too had accepted bribes from the Tijuana Group.
Truth be told, in such an environment in Mexico, you either take the money or your whole family dies.
Aside from that, Guillermo was fairly "clean."
And most importantly, isn't whether or not he took the money up to Victor to decide?
Cough!
Up to the law to decide!