Brothers who frequently blow people up know that hand grenades are divided into defensive and offensive types, but it's all bullshit. Once you throw it out, who cares what type it is - everyone dies!
The F-1 hand grenade is packed with 60g of TNT. Damn it, even a turtle would get blown to bits like a Japanese devil.
Although it's a product from the WWII era, your grandfather is still your grandfather after all.
Victor crouched down, approached the edge of the RV, looked up at the half-open window, pulled the safety pin, and threw it in with a backhand. It made a crisp sound as it hit the ground. Hagis and Mill Baird inside turned their heads to look.
An oval-shaped thing that looked like shit was rolling on the ground.
Mill Baird, who had more experience getting beaten, reacted quickly. He covered his head and curled up in a ball with his ass sticking up, lying to the side.
Reducing the injury area could improve survival rate.
Anyone who had used hand grenades knew that these things actually had a low possibility of directly killing people - not that it was impossible, but their greatest damage came from the fragments inside, which could directly cut through a person's internal organs.
Basically beyond saving.
Even Jesus would have to go to the hospital.
However...
To be safe, Victor waited a short while after throwing the first one in, then threw another one in!
Double insurance.
Boom!
Two streams of smoke seeped out from the RV window. The explosion was muffled, but still loud in the night, scaring Casare who was with a woman. He jerked upright, his balls shrank, and he frantically grabbed his clothes, running out of the tent like a panicked elephant.
All around were similar old clients.
Shameless, all naked.
They looked at each other with fear in their eyes.
"What happened? How can there be explosion sounds?"
"How would I know? I was in the middle of battle when the explosion scared me too. Don't just stand there, scatter quickly."
Someone shouted, and some people ran away anxiously. Some even didn't pay for their services.
As experienced Mexicans, they understood one principle: never be curious. If you're curious enough to go take a look, your whole family would be attending funerals.
Casare, however, looked at that corner with his mouth half-open. It seemed like...
Victor had just gone there!
...
Victor was bold. After throwing the hand grenades, he didn't run directly. Standing at the door, he could hear the groaning and screaming inside.
He kicked open the already flattened car door and crawled in. He saw Hagis lying on the ground rolling around, bleeding all over his body. On the other side, Mill was unlucky - covering his neck, eyes wide open, already dead.
Seeing the figure, Hagis instinctively reached out for help, making a sound like a hair dryer from his throat, "Help! Help!"
"Don't you know you should say please, buddy?"
Hagis heard the familiar voice and saw the gradually clear face. He immediately got excited, breathing rapidly, his chest heaving.
"Don't worry, don't worry."
Victor squatted down, looked at him, and said with a smile, "Are you feeling bad? It's okay, I'll help you."
He looked around and saw a fire extinguisher rolling on the ground. He picked it up, looked at Hagis, waved his hand as if saying goodbye, then forcefully smashed it down on his head.
Which was harder, bones or a fire extinguisher?
Obviously, the latter won.
Bang, bang, bang - he smashed hard several times until brains came out. Looking at Hagis's unrecognizable face, Victor threw away the fire extinguisher, lit a cigarette for himself, then stuffed it into the other's already smashed mouth.
But with the mouth all smashed up, how could it possibly hold a cigarette?
After a few attempts, Victor got angry and directly smashed the head flat again with the fire extinguisher.
"Fuck your mother, won't even give me face to smoke a cigarette, dead bastard."
After cursing, he ran off. He could already hear people coming from not far away, noisy footsteps.
It was so dark at night. If you drill into it and aren't caught on the spot, wouldn't it be easy to escape?
After Victor had been running for two or three minutes, more than ten armed personnel carrying weapons rushed to the scene. From the tattoos on their arms, they were obviously from the same organization.
The leader was a bald man with a scar between his eyebrows. Looking at the corpses on the ground, his expression was dark and gloomy. Someone was causing trouble on his turf - this was fucking asking for death!
"Boss, something's wrong. This person seems to be Mill Baird." A subordinate called out.
The bald man was stunned, as if thinking of something. He hurried over and saw the familiar face on the ground. His expression immediately looked constipated.
He was all too familiar with Mill Baird. The territory in Mexico City originally belonged to the Guadalajara Cartel.
But because 1,000 hectares of plantations were destroyed, Quintero, one of the three giants, couldn't swallow this insult. According to the situation at the time, Gallardo had already negotiated business with Colombia's Pablo, and this money could be completely earned back.
But on February 7, 1985, Quintero ordered his subordinates to kidnap DEA agent Camarena in broad daylight.
The autopsy proved he suffered 30 hours of brutal torture, and they kept injecting him with adrenaline during the abuse to keep him conscious.
Camarena's tragic condition prompted the DEA to launch its largest homicide investigation.
Seeing things getting out of hand, Quintero fled with his girlfriend Sara. This girlfriend's father was Mexico's Minister of Education.
Educated all the way to his dick.
Godfather Gallardo abandoned his pawns to save the king, giving up Quintero and Donnetto to the authorities while continuing to lead the group himself, satisfying the officials' share.
Quintero was sentenced to 40 years maximum term.
But because there was no extradition clause, the Americans disagreed. To give their employees an explanation, they launched a revenge operation codenamed "Legend," sending agents with bounty hunters to infiltrate Mexico and kidnap 6 murderers involved in Camarena's murder to stand trial in the US, while pressuring Mexican authorities.
Then Gallardo was abandoned by his protective umbrella, Defense Minister Barrera. In 1989, the Guadalajara Group collapsed.
During this gap, Mexico City certainly wouldn't be quiet.
Palma-led Sinaloa and the Abrego family-commanded Gulf Group fought each other.
Many cruel and cunning figures emerged, and Mill Baird, nicknamed "Family Stallion," performed particularly outstandingly.
He led Gulf Group gunmen to attack a masquerade ball of Guzman's younger brother, Sinaloa's number two, causing 17 deaths.
This included Guzman's brother's lover and 4 illegitimate children.
His reputation was greatly enhanced!
The Sinaloa Group offered a bounty of 150,000 pesos for his life!
Such a hot commodity actually died here - life was truly unpredictable.
But this bald man discovered another business opportunity. He looked at Mill Baird's corpse, his eyes glowing green.
150,000 pesos!
Most importantly, he could latch onto Sinaloa's big leg. Even if he'd face retaliation from the Gulf Group and Baird family, when you're in this business, was life and death that important?
Make money, make money, make money!
The cowardly ones had either died on the streets long ago or immigrated.
"Who is this person?" The bald man pointed at Hagis's corpse and asked.
The subordinate looked left and right, shook his head, "Can't recognize him, beaten up like this."
"Don't waste it, take him along too. Tonight we'll go join the Sinaloa Cartel."
The subordinates looked at each other, a bit hesitant.
The bald man was observant and understood their thoughts when he saw this scene. "Today we were watching the place, and Mill Baird died here. Do you think we won't be thrown out as scapegoats?"
"This..."
"Boss Fladen probably wouldn't..." a subordinate said quietly, but even he shut up at the end.
The survival rule of small Mexican gangs was always to depend on large cartels. If you had backing, that was fine. No backing?
You were consumables and cannon fodder.
"Alright, stop hesitating. Those who want to leave, come with me. We'll share Mill Baird's bounty together. Those who don't want to, we'll go our separate ways."
The bald man looked at the subordinates in front of him and said with a frown.
In the end, all the subordinates followed him. Obviously, the attraction of bounty pesos was stronger than loyalty to their boss.
With all the watchmen gone, who would bother coming to take a look?
Mind your own business and stay out of trouble.
Dead people were all too common.
...
Victor took advantage of the darkness to walk toward the prison. The dormitory was inside. On the way, he met many colleagues, all cursing, basically feeling unsatisfied with tonight.
When passing the floating bridge, he didn't watch his step and tripped. Looking down with squinting eyes, he saw a stone that someone had placed there at some point.
"Victor."
A soft call in the dark made Victor's whole body tense. Frowning, he looked at the emerging figure and sighed in relief. "Casare, don't you know hiding in the dark can easily scare people to death?"
The fat man walked closer, looking him up and down. "Are you okay?"
This inexplicable inquiry stunned Victor, and his heart jumped, but he quickly calmed down and looked at him. "Are you talking about the explosion just now? It scared me to death. I was just looking for a place to piss when I heard the explosion and quickly hid. Are you okay, buddy? I heard that being scared during exercise can cause impotence."
He smiled and touched the other's privates. Casare quickly stepped back. "I'm fine." He said, turning away. "I'm glad you're okay."
But his eyes narrowed slightly. He smelled blood on Victor.
Definitely not as simple as he claimed.
Casare wasn't an idiot. There were no real idiots in this world, just different angles of viewing the world.
Never think you're too smart.
Behind him, Victor squinted his eyes. His intuition told him that Casare already suspected him.
His intuition had always been accurate.
Looking at the back of Casare's head, he now had an impulse to go up and crack it open.
Murdering colleagues, especially people from criminal families - even with just a little suspicion, those son-of-a-bitch drug dealers would strike without mercy.
Victor wasn't someone who liked to leave his fate in others' hands.
Walking in front, Casare suddenly felt his scalp tingling.
As if someone was staring at him with malice.
In the end.
Victor still didn't strike. After all, the guards on the high walls could already see the prison entrance.