Alexandr Konstantinovich pushed open the door wearily, he lived in the slums, a place exuding stench and chaos.
With his unkempt beard, one couldn't tell he was a 21-year-old man.
Just as he had arrived home, three little girls rushed over to him—they all looked very young and emaciated due to malnutrition, with sparse hair.
"Big brother, big sister hit me today."
"Big brother, big brother, are you tired?"
"Big brother, I'm hungry."
The children clamored, Konstantinovich patted their heads, "I'll get you something to eat, you guys watch TV first."
His smile was bitter as he turned on the TV for the children and walked into the kitchen.
By his name, one could tell he was not purely Mexican; his father was Soviet. Back then his family was doing well with a farm in the countryside, but because the drug cartel wanted to cultivate DM, they demanded his parents sell at a ridiculously low price.
But that was the livelihood of a family, and his father, a hot-tempered Soviet, refused to comply at all costs.
The drug trafficker let him really understand what it meant to be unreasonable.
They just killed his father!
When his mother went to report it to the police, she was beheaded by a drug trafficker in the police station.
Konstantinovich could only survive by working odd jobs for others, but recently, with the Mexicali drug traffickers causing trouble, even the grocery store where he worked was robbed empty.
The drug traffickers, however, were recruiting.
300 pesos a day.
He had seen his neighbors go to work for them, but in the end... they disappeared.
Money from the drug traffickers is not so easy to earn.
Konstantinovich opened the food cabinet and saw two corn cobs inside, enough to fill their stomachs for a bit.
"I am Victor, the head of Guadalupe Island Police Station."
"This here is the execution site for drug traffickers!"
Just then, a strong male voice came from the TV, commanding a convincing presence.
Executing drug traffickers?
Konstantinovich raised an eyebrow in curiosity and walked to the doorway, only to see his three sisters huddled together, playing with blocks, while on the TV screen, a rugged man stood with an empty space behind him.
"We have come to Mexicali to restore local social order. Any action that dares to obstruct the Mexican people's desire for a peaceful life is a provocation to us!"
"Here with me, drug traffickers are only sentenced to death! Those few are core members of the Sinaloa Drug Cartel, and we will broadcast their execution live."
Victor stepped aside slightly, and the camera swept behind him, showing a line of police officers escorting seven or eight drug traffickers, then binding them together, restraining their hands and feet.
"We will use an RPG to send these drug traffickers to the skies."
RPG!
Many citizens had already widened their eyes when they heard about the execution of drug traffickers, as Mexico didn't have the death penalty, and this did not align with their values.
A police officer carried a rocket launcher and aimed it at the traffickers from a hundred meters away.
Konstantinovich held his breath and tensed into a fist, his nails nearly embedding into his flesh, as he watched the kneeling officer pull the trigger.
The rocket flew at a speed visible to the naked eye.
And exploded right in the middle of the drug traffickers.
Boom!!!
Konstantinovich saw one man blown into the air, dismembering in mid-flight, and he actually felt thrilled!
Drug traffickers deserve to die!
Some of the traffickers weren't dead yet, a number of them lay on the ground, crying out in pain; Victor ordered someone to gather them up again.
Listening to his buddies' thanks, Santos straightened the cap on his head and smiled happily, "Follow Mr. Victor, eliminate the drug traffickers!"
His buddies also chanted along with him.
Santos was known as a devout "Victor Believer," and he had gathered quite a few companions, advancing on the right path.
Looking at this lively group of kids, the adults around smiled.
Their own childhoods were filled with violence, intimidation, and drugs. Many hadn't received an education, but they did not want the next generation to endure the same.
Mr. Victor was the hero of Mexico!
...
Cannon decision!
120mm caliber.
Guzman, watching Victor on TV, felt a shudder in his heart, even though he was as fierce as they come.
Wouldn't the air be filled with Zambada?
"What are you doing! Get out of the way!"
"You, Guzman's lackey, move aside, I want to see Guzman!"
"CNMDB! Who are you talking to?"
A commotion erupted at the door, and Guzman's face darkened. He stood up to open the door and saw two groups confronting each other outside.
One was the Beltran Leyva brothers.
The other was two brothers from Zambada.
Both parties had even drawn their guns.
"What are you doing!" Guzman bellowed. "We're all our own people, are you trying to start a war with each other?"
"Guzman, I just want to ask you one thing. What about my brother? Are you going to save him or not?" The one with the large face opposite was Zambada's second brother, nicknamed the "Sinaloa Wildcat": Ismail Zambada Wicks.
He was quite hot-tempered and had butted heads with Guzman many times.
"Watch your manners, you idiot!" Arturo, the eldest of the four brothers, pointed at him and said.
Ismail glared back, not willing to show weakness.
Guzman's temples bulged with veins, his face grim, "Save him! Of course, save him. Zambada is my brother; do you think I'm the kind of person who abandons his own?"
Not saving him would mean real internal strife.
"But we can't do it alone, we need to contact Juarez and Gulf Group. To save Zambada, we definitely need their help."
Ismail pointed at Guzman, "You'd better be telling the truth. Otherwise, I will take our men and break away from Sinaloa!"
After saying that, he left with his people.
"Cousin, shall I take men and kill him?" Arturo said in a low voice.
"Act, act, act, all you know is action! We need to use our brains," Guzman cursed, frowning. "If you kill him, by tomorrow we'll have to disband!"
He inhaled sharply from his cigarette, then flung the butt on the ground, his face fierce.
"If Victor won't let us live, then we'll make him suffer!"
"First, we'll contact Abrego and Aguilar; we'll take on Victor!"
Guzman's eyes flickered.
But merely being reckless wasn't his style.
He planned to...
Surrender to the Mexican Government.