Working as a police officer in Mexico

The three naval cannons at the Port of Peñasco had already ceased fire.

And the surface forces that had choked off the key passage at Obregon City continued to advance, but the counterattacks by the drug traffickers were just as fierce.

On a mountain range about 120 kilometers from the capital Hermosillo, called "Caborca," fortifications had been built, and using the dense vegetation, the traffickers occupying the high ground could almost mow down everything below.

"Dammit! If we can't go around it, burn it down!"

Kennedy was pretty straightforward about it.

He called in the Katyusha rocket battalions from behind, and bombarded the entire mountain range recklessly.

The entire mountain was instantly engulfed in thick smoke.

You wanted to take advantage of the terrain, but your opponent simply didn't do as you wished, setting the mountain on fire directly, and those inside suffocated so badly from the smoke they had to drop their guns and flee.

That thick smoke could be clearly seen by everyone inside Hermosillo City.

"What! The 'Caborca' mountain position was lost?"

In the corridors of a private hospital in Hermosillo, Chalmers, the deputy working temporarily in place of Governor Irwin Losano, was sweating bullets.

What did he know about war?

Anxiously peering through the window of the hospital room, he saw that Irwin Losano was lucky to be alive, he hadn't died on the spot, but the doctors said his vocal cords, spine, and nerve roots had all suffered severe damage, in other words, he was finished!

"Without 'Caborca,' we don't have a barrier anymore." A man in a white T-shirt, smoking and looking worried, suddenly asked, "Was the attacker sent by Victor?"

"Does that still matter? What we need to do is figure out how to resist Victor's army. Our Sinaloa State absolutely must not suffer any artillery attack; that's the bottom line from Boss Guzman." The youngest of the four Bertrand Leyva brothers, Alfredo, frowned as he asked, responsible for money laundering, but the other brothers had all gone to Colombia.

He just had to bite the bullet and lead a team of drug traffickers north to provide support.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

But perhaps they were all overwhelmed by the firepower of Victor's forces, the support from several states had concentrated in Sonora's capital, Hermosillo, causing serious security breaches there.

A bunch of sh*t together, of course it turns into sh*t.

Seeing Alfredo pulling out Guzman's name made the heads of the few people beside him shrivel up, and the corridor fell quiet for a moment.

"Why don't we pull them into Hermosillo for a decisive battle!" Alfredo was ruthless, "Victor's police force doesn't have that many people, and there are 378 underground passages beneath this city. We can completely take them on in street warfare and wear down their living forces."

Street warfare?!

That would indeed be bloody.

The "Five Continents Alliance" had nearly ten thousand drug traffickers here, and their equipment had long since changed; they'd gotten their hands on many advanced weapons from the American Black Market.

"Plant land mines to immobilize their armored vehicles. As long as they don't have fire support, I don't believe we can't exchange four or five traffickers for the life of one policeman," the man in white T-shirt offered an idea.

These drug traffickers hadn't considered the ordinary civilians at all; perhaps... they had already lost their humanity. If things proceeded this way, the entire city of Hermosillo would end up as collateral damage.

The war on drugs...

Had truly become a war.

If you don't think war is cruel, try playing Battlefield 5, where Sulphur Island is strewn with corpses.

"Alfredo! What do you say?"

Everyone's eyes were on Guzman's cousin, waiting for him to decide. Alfredo's chubby face flickered, if he could inflict a heavy blow here to Victor's southward-moving Anti-Drug Force, they definitely wouldn't have the capacity to move on to Chihuahua State or Sinaloa State.

Most of the drug syndicates' interests could be protected!

"Let's do as you said."

The man in the T-shirt relaxed, "Don't worry, I'll make sure to send a big present to those cops!"

Alfredo pinched his hand, his gaze passing through the corridor window to the distant mountain fire.

Victor, you're not leaving us any way out.

…

Drug traffickers couldn't possibly just stupidly confront the Anti-Drug Force head-on.

If they couldn't win, they'd resort to dirty tricks.

Like...

"Boom!!"

An explosion occurred in a restaurant inside a building on the entire eastern side of Constitution Plaza in Mexico City National Palace, literally blowing the dining guests out of the establishment.

Screams accompanied by cries for help filled the air.

The whole street was in utter chaos.

Barely managing to escape, disheveled diners supported each other and before they could stabilize, four or five armed militants carrying CZ 25 submachine guns disembarked from a nearby van and started indiscriminately shooting at the crowd!

This was Constitution Avenue!

Hearing the gunshots, the Military Police quickly closed in, but the well-trained militants suppressed their advance with gunfire.

Above the building where the shooting was happening was a dormitory for an Italian media company, who risked their lives to capture the scene on camera.

The Mexican Military Police were cowering behind cars while civilians lay on the ground; the militants strolled through as if shopping, finishing off anyone on the ground who wasn't dead yet.

Then they left nonchalantly!

And inside the National Palace, Cuauhtémoc, who was working at the time, furrowed his brow upon hearing the explosion.

The "Rookie," Carlos, tasked with his security, burst into the office to evacuate him, but Cuauhtémoc waved him off, looking calm, "It's still a bit far from here, no need to worry."

"Mr. President!"

Secretary Nunez hurried in, his expression grave, "There have been 21 explosions in Mexico City just now, mainly targeting restaurants, malls, and some foreigner hotspots. The casualty count is still being tallied."

Before he finished speaking, another secretary burst in, frantic, "Sir, someone on TV is claiming responsibility."

Cuauhtémoc sensed something was wrong and quickly told Nunez to turn on the TV. They saw a man wearing a black mask with a red cross emblazoned on it, standing in front of the camera, with a dozen or so armed men behind him wielding various sophisticated weapons.

"We are the Mara Salvatrucha from Guatemala. We are very dissatisfied with your efforts to suppress Mexican drug traffickers, and we will take retaliatory actions. Starting today, we will select 17 cities in Mexico for bombings. The next target, Tijuana!"

"Remember us, we are the Mara Salvatrucha, and we hope for a more open world, open to drugs, desires, human nature..."

"We're not the first, nor will we be the last. Are you ready for the game to begin?"

"Only if you stop the crackdown on drug traffickers and release all the traffickers in custody will we stop our retaliation, otherwise, everyone deserves to die!"

The armed militant on the TV made an extreme gesture.

Cuauhtémoc took a deep breath; he really wanted to curse, but his reason told him that swearing was useless. He calmly gave orders to rescue the injured and then instructed CISEN (Mexican Intelligence Agency) to keep an eye on this so-called Mara Salvatrucha.

"Inform Mr. Victor of this matter and have him ensure the safety of Tijuana," he said.

"I'm going to make a television address!"

...

"Who the fuck can tell me where this fucking Mara Salvatrucha comes from?" Jason Bourne cursed in front of several heads of Mexico International News Department, "George Smiley, can you tell me who they are?"

The person he called out was a middle-aged man with long hair, looking more like a rock star than anything else.

"You know, gangs in Guatemala breed faster than the bacteria on my underwear; we simply can't keep up with their up-to-date news."

"That's not an answer!"

Jason Bourne banged the table angrily, "Do you think the boss will take our bullshit? He will grab my neck and ask me, hey Jason, can you tell me where these bastards come from?"

"What am I supposed to say? Should I show my underwear to the boss?"

Everyone in the meeting room bowed their heads, not daring to make a sound.

Thump, thump, thump~

"Who is it!" Jason Bourne shouted impatiently at the sound of knocking.

There was silence outside, "Jason, Director Victor wants to see you."

Jason Bourne took a deep breath, acknowledged the message, and pointed at everyone, "I hope by the time I get back, I will know who those guys are. Don't worry, if I get sent to Siberia to farm potatoes, I'll take you with me."

He left the meeting room with a dark expression, slamming the door behind him, then went to the restroom to take a piss, splashed cold water on his forehead, and then jogged to Victor's office.

"Boss, you called for me."

"You're sweating a lot, Jason," Victor said, dressed in a gray long-sleeve shirt today, with a freshly shaven beard.

"Uh, I've had a lot of work."

"Really? So, tell me, what do you know about the Mara Salvatrucha?"

Here it is! Just as expected!

Jason Bourne's face went a bit red.

Victor cast him a look, "I don't blame you guys for this; after all, this world is full of filth and extremists. Maybe four dogs by the roadside can call themselves F4, but what I can't tolerate is that they are provoking me."

"They plan to make Tijuana their next target?"

"If they really succeed with the bombing, what do you think the public's sense of security will be like?"

"Wherever I, Victor, am stationed, that place must be the safest!"

"Find their people, and then…"

"Take them out!" Jason Bourne learned to answer before Victor did.

Victor nodded, "They know nothing about my brutality, buddy. We've killed too many drug traffickers, and they still don't feel fear, which is a disgrace!"

Jason didn't know what to say to that.

Old thieves steeped in criminal organizations aren't afraid; what do they fear? They fear losing the thrill, their interests, their drive.

Death is only a fear for those newly stepping into crime.

So, whenever someone claims they can change, they're fucking speaking dogshit.

"I plan to start a pay-per-view channel on Baja California's television, letting the public choose the method of death for drug traffickers and then executing them!"

"In front of everyone, execute the drug traffickers. They aren't afraid, huh? I want them crying in repentance, and if they don't cry, we'll beat them until they do!"

Victor kicked the table, "Any Tom, Dick or Harry comes threatening me, huh? They want us to release them, do they?"

"What do you think of slicing them up into sashimi and tossing them into the sea?"

Jason Bourne shuddered at the suggestion.

It would be so much better if you just stayed in Guatemala and played gangsters, why the fuck stir up a threat next door? Do you think the boss looks like someone who can be pushed around?

He can turn drug traffickers into mush and then... feed them to the sharks.

...