April 11, 1990.
Light rain.
Perfect for seeking death.
In a shopping center three kilometers south of Heroes Square in Mexicali, the Violent Terrorism Mobile Team (EDTV) had occupied this location yesterday.
This building was the tallest nearby, about fifty meters.
Sixteen PK machine guns were positioned on top, commanding from above like beating dogs. With this firepower network, if you wanted to break through, you'd have to blow up the entire building.
For heavy weapons, they also had rocket launchers, surface-to-air missiles, etc., with over 200 personnel.
Besides here, all surrounding floors and major buildings had EDTV forces.
They would be responsible for "chain-style" defense within a five-kilometer perimeter of the execution ground. EDTV's role was more like the Green Berets clearing battlefields for Navy SEALs.
While EDM and other Guadalupe Island officers would handle internal security.
If Victor got sniped from over five kilometers away, that could only mean fate.
You should know that sniper kills exceeding two kilometers all occurred on battlefields after the millennium. If drug dealers had such technology, would they still be here getting beaten by Victor?
Center of Heroes Square.
A three-meter pole was erected. Zambada was tied up like a dead dog. This major drug dealer who'd been active for decades looked miserable.
In front of him stood a 120mm M1981 self-propelled howitzer!
Said 120mm, meant 120mm. Victor absolutely wouldn't compromise.
Over a dozen cameras aimed at him.
Broadcasting his appearance through television, with loudspeakers proclaiming his "achievements."
Early in the morning, many people were already waiting before their TVs.
They stared wide-eyed, wanting to see what difference Zambada had from ordinary people?
But they were disappointed.
The biggest difference was perhaps that he seemed to have good living conditions normally.
Alejandro Constantinovich got up early, his eyes bloodshot watching the man on TV.
He wouldn't forget!
Back then, this man led people charging into his home, then shot his father dead, and stepped on his head arrogantly saying, "Refuse Sinaloa's goodwill, then welcome death!"
He didn't know why the man didn't shoot him dead.
Perhaps... disdain?
Would you care about an insect's hatred?
But that "drug dealer" who was invincible in Mexico now looked more destitute than anyone.
In a box on one side of the square.
Mexico's Cardinal kept trying to persuade Victor to abandon the death penalty, saying it was disrespectful to life.
Why Mexico and many countries had no death penalty was because they believed everyone had the right to live, criminals included. If a judge sentenced someone to death, the judge was also committing a crime. This was their philosophy.
This was simply nonsense.
"God's purpose is to love the world. Everyone can be forgiven." The Cardinal was very old and spoke like reciting scripture.
Victor was getting drowsy listening. "Then why in the Middle Ages did you burn those innocent people you thought were possessed by Satan?"
This immediately made the old man's face turn green. "That was God's will!"
"God's will was for you to profit from indulgences? Or to use faith to commit evil? Don't think I don't know what you do in private, Cardinal!" Victor squinted, his eyes very unfriendly.
Glancing over, this Cardinal could be described in one phrase: sanctimonious!
No wonder when the "Liberation Theology" leader came to power later and apologized for many scandals within the church, he was accused by so many people. Turns out these people were already filthy to the core.
Victor leaned forward, staring at him with full oppressive force, laughing aloud, reaching out to pat the man's old face. That wrinkled skin even trembled under his force. "Don't make me angry, or I won't respect the elderly."
The Cardinal's mouth twisted in anger, blood rushing to his head. With his status, going to Mexico City would have crowds fawning over him. Back when the Vatican wanted to show respect for Mexico, the Pope personally went to Mexico City.
But before this little police officer, repeatedly insulting him - wasn't this insulting God?
"Victor! You're walking Satan's path!" This statement was heavy, almost equivalent to excluding him from mainstream European and American society based on "Western mythology."
Casare nervously clenched his hands beside him.
Idiot!
Run quickly! Why are you still here?
Do you think your head can withstand 120mm caliber!
The Cardinal spoke up because the Sinaloa drug cartel was one of the church's donors, helping Mexico's General Church build 11 churches nationwide.
This thing...
They gave money!
This was a financial backer. If they died, what would they eat and drink?
"Satan?"
Victor suddenly stood up, scaring the Cardinal, who involuntarily trembled.
"Heaven belongs to God, earth belongs to me!"
"I judge drug dealers. If I say they're guilty, they're guilty. Want me to release him? No problem - next life, be careful, don't commit crimes!"
"You can ask the Vatican how many divisions they can send!"
"As long as the caliber is big enough, I'll believe in God."
Victor waved his hand. Officers rushed through the door, dragging him and two attendants away. He hadn't lost his mind enough to kill him now.
At least he needed nearly ten thousand troops under his command.
He knew the man had committed many crimes - smuggling, drug trafficking, forcing women, even human trafficking - but... there was no choice. Sometimes, status and position determined your time of death.
"Won't be long. The reckoning won't be too long!"
Casare breathed a sigh of relief. Fortunately... fortunately this old man didn't die.
"Boss, time's up!" He checked his watch and said softly.
Victor nodded. "Execute!"
Casare picked up the radio. Just as he was about to give the order, gunfire and explosions suddenly erupted all around.
And deafening shouts: "Kill Victor! Kill the tyrant!"
"Kill the police!"
"Kill Victor!"
Casare nervously looked at his boss. Victor calmly pulled out a cigarette and put it in his mouth. "Kill them!"
...
"Kill them!"
The shopping center standing on the only road to Heroes Square became the target of assault. The EDTV forces stationed here grabbed PK machine guns and strafed.
If you looked from the sky now, you'd see countless drug dealers swarming from surrounding alleys. These people looked like cannon fodder!
The weapons in their hands even included old stuff from WWII.
Eight PK machine guns facing forward spat bullets.
Those unprotected drug dealers were mowed down like wheat.
A drug dealer running fastest, holding a MAS Mle 1936 - old antiques were common in the drug war. Don't underestimate their age, but bullets from their barrels could still kill.
He hadn't run two steps when bullets from the PK machine gun firing at 658 rounds/minute went through his eyes. His body ran two more steps by inertia before falling heavily.
The officer's left hand pressed the machine gun cover. This thing jumped a bit, with somewhat high recoil. His whole body shook with it, almost couldn't hold it!
Besides looking rough, Russian goods had real power!
Whether in the hot Middle Eastern desert, thin air of snowy plateaus, humid subtropical jungles, or conflict-ridden African continent, it wouldn't strike.
Directly telling you what a tough guy's art meant!
In just 5 minutes, over 2,000 rounds fired...
Beat the drug dealers until they held their heads and scattered.
(End of Chapter)
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