Working as a police officer in Mexico

The town mayor was lynched alive, his neck caught in a rope and hung from a streetlight.

Only after all the drug traffickers had left did the braver residents come out, and upon seeing the mayor's body they all hung their heads and wept.

The old mayor had always been good to them, helping anyone in trouble, even washing cars to help support families.

He would give money to sponsor orphans and elderly relatives of those killed by drug traffickers.

In the local community, his reputation was always good.

But reputation... doesn't match the caliber of a gun!

When the drug traffickers were around, the people didn't dare to rebel, but as soon as they left, they ran out to collect the mayor's body.

The small town had lost the person who loved it the most.

...

"Isn't it just about managing drug traffickers? It's quite simple," Victor said as he stood on a solid rock, pointing at the mine ahead and speaking to Cuauhtémoc, "You just don't have to treat them as human!"

"Don't let them rest at all, work them for 19 hours straight in a 24-hour day, feed them enough so they have the energy to work."

Upon hearing this workload, Cuauhtémoc was stunned, "Won't they drop dead?"

"If they die, just grab some more, drug traffickers are consumables, why treat them as humans, who told them to traffic drugs? They lived carefree lives before, now I'll make them suffer just as much!"

"Rockslide! Rockslide! Watch out, watch out!"

Suddenly, an exclamation rang out, and Cuauhtémoc hurried over to see a section of rock had collapsed, crushing many drug traffickers, with many unable to escape in time.

Officers watching nearby went over and saw several people crushed on the ground, beyond help, while one drug trafficker had a broken foot twisted at a 90° angle. When he saw the officers approaching, his pupils shrank, he struggled hard on the ground, reaching out to the other drug traffickers, "I can still work, I can still work!"

"Pull me up! Pull me up."

"Blake, pull me! Mude Blake!" He reached out to a comrade from the same drug trafficking organization, with whom he had a good relationship before being caught.

They used to go to the red-light district together, searching for the same girl.

His comrade glanced at him with hesitation, but upon seeing the officer approach, he hurriedly ducked aside.

The officer came over, looked at the injured man's leg, frowned, "He can't work anymore."

"No, no, no! I can still work, I can still wor..."

Before he could finish, the officer drew his gun and shot him!

Hearing the gunshot, Cuauhtémoc jumped, his mouth half-opened in shock, looking at Victor, who was craving a smoke and puffing on a cigarette.

"If they're injured, they can't work anymore, and then we would have to get them medical care, wasting money. It's easier to just kill them."

"They... they don't have any objections?" Cuauhtémoc choked out after a long moment.

"Of course they do, just eliminate a few and it'll do."

Victor smirked, "I love dealing with troublemakers the most."

Cuauhtémoc nodded, watching as the officers dragged away the body, leaving a trail of blood on the ground.

It was no wonder that no one dared to traffic drugs in Mexicali with such treatment of drug traffickers.

Victor, looking down the road, stepped off the rock, "In some time, I plan to reclaim the entire Baja California region!"

Indeed, he used the word reclaim.

In Victor's view, drug traffickers were the enemy, and this was a war.

"I need many, many drug traffickers, I plan to build a highway from the Baja California region to the southernmost part of Mexico, Oaxaca State, breaking through the transportation bottleneck between north and south."

"By then, the port throughput of Baja California will certainly increase manifold, and it will be more convenient for goods from Panama, Guatemala, and other places to enter Mexico."

"At the very least, it could create hundreds of thousands of jobs, making the common people wealthier."

"Besides highways, we should also have our own railways, our own industries, Mexicans have been in decline for too long."

Cuauhtémoc listened to Victor's grand plans, feeling shocked.

The internal contradictions in Mexico were severe, and the economic conditions of each state varied widely; a national highway was sheer "folly."

"This will take a long time," mumbled Cuauhtémoc.

"Of course, I have a long time, I am young, and even if I die, there are others like Santos, generation after generation, we will definitely fulfill our dreams."

"I'm afraid some won't allow Mexico to rise."

Victor smiled, "If one gives up their efforts just because the other side doesn't allow it, isn't that in itself a form of cowardice?"

If the Yanks are powerful, then we just give up developing, what's the point of that? Might as well just lie down and accept it. How many valiant heroes in the world rose from the bottom?

Did they think about giving up when they looked up at those on the throne?

Those who gave up, are not heroes!

As one slowly climbs to the top, gritting their teeth, eventually they will stand before the throne and burst that disdainful stare!

Being unyielding is what makes a hero!

You think being tough is just a title?

If you don't agree, then fight, and if you die, so be it.

Victor's eyes burned passionately as he looked at Cuauhtémoc, "Of course, we must first eliminate the drug traffickers who disrupt the peace!"

The drug war itself is a war.

Cuauhtémoc nodded vigorously.

He saw in Victor the shadow of his father, that slender figure standing before the army, the one who liberated Mexico, shouting loudly to his people, "Mexicans, no longer slaves!"

He was hailed as: "The Aztec Eagle!"

Could Victor be the next one?

"Director, there's news from Sinaloa State..."

Just as the two men were having their "tender moment", a man stepped out from behind them; he was the person in charge at the Mexico International News Department—Jason Bourne!