Working as a police officer in Mexico

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Boom!!

A flash of lightning exploded in the sky, and the torrential rain suddenly came pouring down as if the heavens had started to release a stream of urine, pelting down with a clatter.

Kennedy Heisenberg clenched his cigarette between his teeth, looking at the sand table with furrowed brows, contemplating how to blast open Obregon City with artillery fire!

The enemy laid right on the essential path, and if a small detachment were to strike, there was a risk that they would be caught and have their tails cut off, only leading to their annihilation.

Zip zip zip~

"Good news, Captain."

A bespectacled staff officer ran over, "The 442nd Regiment in Obregon City has announced its surrender, and they have also launched an attack on a marked drug trafficker gathering point. They hope we can take over."

Kennedy was startled by the news.

Just as he was considering whether to call in more artillery from the rear to bombard directly, you tell me they've fallen apart from the inside?

Euphoria!

As for the possibility of a conspiracy or trick?

The halfway attack turning into a sudden strike against the Anti-Drug Force?

What a joke, Kennedy didn't mean to look down on them, but considering the combat quality of the Mexican Army and the drug traffickers, they were simply incapable of executing such a high-difficulty "feigned defeat."

"Let Zolf Sherman take the vanguard forces into Obregon City first. Arrive within an hour and a half!"

"Leave 300 people in the valley; all others push to the opposite bank of the river."

All in.

Just waiting for their counterattack.

When Zolf Sherman received the order, he too was stunned; the rain hurt as it lashed against his face.

If it had been any other Latin American military, they probably would have dallied until the rain stopped.

But the officers from Baja California were different, after all, well-funded and aware of why they were fighting!

To struggle for the anti-drug cause all their lives!

This might seem somewhat illusory, but it actually works, stabilizing and boosting morale considerably.

Most of the Latin American military leaders' troops, including those in Africa, are without faith, clueless about what they're fighting for or why they're at war.

For women, wealth, status?

These excuses might satisfy temporarily, but they're not enough to sweep all before them.

The "Land of the Righteous" Sankara managed to overcome other warlords with faith, rescued the nation from danger and the people from disaster, its later failure was because of the extremist policies Sankara adopted, the national economic difficulties, diplomatic isolation, and then... he was killed by Compaore.

Zolf Sherman personally selected 100 assault troops to race to Obregon City under the cover of the rainy night.

Three Mexican troop carriers painted in army green swayed unsteadily, spaced about 400 meters apart to avoid detection.

Sitting at the back, Zolf Sherman nearly threw up, and said to his deputy, "Once we've caught the drug traffickers, we have to make them fix these roads!"

"Ssszzz~"

Static interference came through the walkie-talkie, followed by the lead vehicle's voice, "Lead... it seems we've run into some road bandits!"

This voice immediately drew the attention of all the officers inside, their heads turning in unison.

Even those feigning sleep opened their eyes.

Robbing... a troop carrier?

"Are you sure?" Zolf Sherman was also somewhat bewildered. Enjoy new adventures from empire

```

"Yes."

The Senior Police Sergeant in the lead vehicle stared at the large branch lying across the road and the seven or eight bandits armed with various weapons standing behind it, his mind spinning.

Mexico had bandits.

Especially near the United States border, there were even more, and many tourists driving into Mexico often encountered armed robberies!

There had also been numerous shocking murders that had appalled the United States.

Mexico had a ban on firearms, but not on greed and violence.

The people robbing the military convoy were from nearby rural areas, locals who were quite savage and in need of Victor's "spring breeze from Baja California."

The rain was too heavy, and the bandits only saw two headlights coming their way; who knew what it was?

The bandit leader was even holding a AG-42 Jungmann Automatic Rifle made by Carl Gustaf State Armament Factory in Sweden!

That gun was rarely seen even by the Swedes.

He and his men surrounded the vehicles and, as they got closer, something felt off. He touched his face, narrowed his eyes, and took a closer look—then in the next second, his eyes widened in shock!

Military trucks?!

Bandits still feared the military.

Just as they were thinking of turning and running, a large group of police officers jumped out from the military vehicles and quickly surrounded them.

Thud!

The dozen or so bandits knelt on the ground, hands raised, very quickly, "We surrender! We surrender!"

"Finish this quickly! Don't waste time!" Zolf Sherman's voice came through the walkie-talkie.

The Senior Police Sergeant looked at the bandits, covered in mud, and frowned, "Today you dare to rob, and tomorrow you'll dare to traffic drugs. Executed by firing squad!"

The leader of the bandits raised his head upon hearing this.

The police beside them already had their guns at the ready and opened fire on the surrendering bandits; right before dying, he was still full of question marks.

"Get in the truck, get in the truck! Move that branch from the front; damn it, go!" the Senior Police Sergeant urged.

The officers moved the fallen tree and climbed back onto their vehicle, drenched in rainwater, and continued their journey toward Obregon City, leaving the bodies behind on the ground.

The other two military trucks didn't even notice as they passed, simply rolling right over them.

On a rainy night, it was common for people to meet an untimely death.

…

"Charge! Charge! Charge!"

Alvarez, with a white cloth tied around his hand, roared, covered in mud from his military uniform.

He took the company commander's head to rally his troops, immediately declaring a break from the corrupt government of Sonora State, aspiring to join Victor's Anti-Drug Force.

When some opposed, he directly killed them, then forced the soldiers to attack the Sinaloa Drug Cartel's drug industrial zone within Obregon City, spanning over 40 acres. 60% of the drugs entering Arizona and New Mexico came from here, about 300-600 tons each month!

Feeding the countless addicts in both states.

Such an important place, naturally, was heavily guarded with about 400 cartel gunmen, plus 300 staff, who, with the local government's tacit permission, had heavy weapons at the ready in this industrial zone!

The position was easy to defend but hard to assault!

Just the crossfire from the Browning M2HB .50 caliber machine guns positioned at strategic points alone was enough to repel several attacks by the 442nd Regiment.

"Be careful! Be careful! Alvarez, you're the commander, you can't charge in first," a comrade beside him cautioned.

"If we can't break through, we're all going to die!" Alvarez wiped the water off his face, grabbed the Mendoza RM2 machine gun made in Mexico City, and shouted with fervor, "Without the courage to break the cauldrons and sink the boats, how can we create a new society free of drug traffickers!"

"Vasili, today, if I fall in battle, please take my ashes back to my homeland and leave them beside the dandelions on the mountain; they will carry me to find my parents' graves!"

Alvarez pushed his comrade aside and continued charging toward the industrial district with his men!

They had no cannons, not even mortars to support the infantry—the army was too poor, and even with the financial backing of the Losano family, they couldn't afford more advanced weaponry.

But he knew that if they didn't take that industrial district, the Sinaloa Drug Cartel, upon hearing the news, would surely come to its aid.

This was the drug traffickers' "Cash Cow."

Alvarez charged forward with his machine gun.

Bullets whistled over his head.

As a child...

He did the same, sprinting wildly over hills covered in dandelions. Back then, his parents were laboring in the fields, and even the wind he blew was quiet.

But everything shattered abruptly one day.

Drug traffickers working for Aviles, dubbed the "Mexican Lion," stormed into his village and burned his parents alive for refusing to grow DM. Back then, he too ran—ran with his head down!

Ran desperately toward the dandelion-covered mountains to save his life.

As he grew up, he continued to run desperately, for the many poor who died in the wilderness, for more of the poor to have their wealth, so children wouldn't be coerced by drug traffickers from a young age.

For peace!

For life!

He still remembered his aimless days in the 442nd, when a man from Baja California brought a handwritten letter from "Mr. Victor."

It read,

"Dear Mr. Alvarez (compañero), I am delighted to join you in this great drug prohibition campaign. Even if the odds are against us, I will advance fearlessly!"

"For this land we love, for these people."

"Perhaps, it's our time to make the sacrifice!"Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Maybe...

I will not live to see the day of victory.

But I, am on the path to victory.

Alvarez roared and charged into the rainy night.

40 minutes later...

The gates of the industrial district were finally breached; cheers erupted through the heavens as the soldiers of the 442nd rushed into the drug traffickers' industrial district to continue the sweep.

His comrade Vasili frantically searched among the fallen bodies for Alvarez!

Finally...

He spotted a familiar figure.

A pair of arms was exposed, but they were wrapped in a white cloth band. On it, three small figures were drawn, holding hands, with a little dog squatting beside them.

Next to it was their house.

In Spanish it read: "My home!"

In the darkness, the figures on the towel seemed ever so vivid.

Vasili rushed over, turned the body over, and saw Alvarez, his chest punctured, his eyes tightly closed—he was certainly asleep!

Vasili held him and wept bitterly.

When Zolf Sherman arrived, the "Industrial District War" was over, 200 prisoners had been captured, and nearly 300 of the 442nd had been sacrificed!

Another 300 were left severely disabled.

When he received the blood-stained white cloth band from Vasili and heard about Alvarez's deeds, he was also greatly shaken, removed his cap, and saluted.

"Captain, what about the prisoners outside?" his adjutant asked nearby.

"Let them accompany Lieutenant Alvarez in his burial!"

Vasili, squatting nearby and smoking, looked up when he heard these words, watching the adjutant walk away, listening to their tone, it sounded... as if it were nothing out of the ordinary?

"Killing prisoners, there will be many journalists talking nonsense."

Zolf Sherman looked at him.

"Only the weak need to fear gossip!"

"The strong... blow up the journalists' microphones!"

...

A bar in Santa Fe de Bogota, Colombia.

Ethan Hunt flamboyantly danced a cheek-to-cheek dance on stage with a voluptuous woman.

He'd also opened the buttons on his chest to reveal his toned muscles, making the women's eyes light up.

As the dance ended, the woman breathed heavily and said with a laugh, "You're amazing, Victor."

"I've got even more impressive tricks. Want to see?" Ethan Hunt said with a smile, taking her hand and rubbing it against his chest.

The woman blushed.

Just then, the pager in his pocket buzzed. Ethan Hunt apologizing, said, "Sorry, I have to deal with some company matters."

"You know, my bosses are all assholes."

The woman nodded understandingly, kissed him on the cheek, "I'll wait for you at the booth."

Ethan Hunt gave an OK gesture, and after she walked to the booth, he blew her a kiss—a classic move of a seasoned flirt.

Walking to a quiet spot, he found a payphone, inserted money, and dialed.

"Ethan." the voice of Jason Bourne came through from the other end.

"What's up now! Big bro, I'm working," Ethan retorted.

"Are you busy?"

Ethan Hunt looked at the woman in the distance, waved with a smile, and said, "Of course, I'm about to fight. I've encountered a few unfathomable opponents."

"What's the matter?"

Jason Bourne fell silent for a moment, "Boss has a task for you. He wants you to get close to Black Widow Blanco and somehow gain her trust."

"If necessary... you can play the role of her lover."

"What! You want me to seduce that porker?" Ethan Hunt exclaimed in horror.

"Please respect women, Ethan. The boss has ordered this, maybe he thinks you're... not very proactive at work lately."

"Damn capitalist!" Ethan Hunt cursed.

"I'll request additional compensation from the boss for you. Please try hard; I believe your skills will definitely win that fat... woman's favor."

"I... can't bring myself to do it!"

Jason Bourne took a deep breath: "Buddy, Mexico and Mr. Victor need your body!"

...