Working as a police officer in Mexico

"Jesus? Hahahahaha! Victor is Jesus, so what does that make me!"

In the mountains of Jalisco, El Mencho couldn't help but laugh out loud at the newspaper, wiping away tears.

"Then boss, you must be Jehovah!" said a flunky, fawning over to his side.

El Mencho happily slapped his shoulder, then clicked his tongue twice, "What do you think about me starting a religious sect?"

The underlings looked at each other, bewildered.

The boss seemed to idolize the Mexican Governor, mimicking whatever he did!

He even studied his speeches on television.

"I want people to shout my name! I want all beings to believe in me, so they might have eternal life!" El Mencho exclaimed excitedly, picking up a Pepsi from the table and downing it in one gulp.@@novelbin@@

"Boss, the doctor said you shouldn't drink too much of this stuff, you have serious diabetes..."

Bang!

El Mencho threw the bottle to the ground, glaring at the buzz-killing minion, "Do I need your reminders?!"

The underling bowed his head, feeling a bit pissed off, damn it, I was just trying to be helpful, and you curse me out.

Drink, drink yourself to death!

When you develop complications, we'll see if you call me dad, or if I call you dad!

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"Boss, boss…" In the awkward silence of the room, a henchman rushed in through the door.

"What's going on?" El Mencho asked, frowning.

"Our informants report military troops gathering at the foot of the mountain!"

The others tensed up at this news, "Has Victor made his move?"

"Shut up!"

Seeing the panic among his men, El Mencho scolded them with a furrowed brow, ready to issue commands but then heard a cacophony outside, accompanied by gunfire. His face turned pale as he ran outside.

In the dark night, many had lifted their guns towards the sky and opened fire.

He looked up to see a huge "shadow" diving down from the horizon, silhouetted against the moon.

"Planes! It's the Northern Army's planes!!!"

A drug trafficker behind El Mencho shouted.

"Zzz—tatatatatatata!!"

They watched as the leading fighter jet strafed the ground, peeling back a layer of earth, with drug traffickers caught in the line of fire sliced up vertically!

They turned into a mist of blood!

El Mencho's heart skipped a beat as he hurriedly took cover to the side, staring at the "warplane" that seemed to "skim" the ground.

What kind of ground-kissing maniac?

"What kind of plane is that!"

"Warthog! A-10!" One of the informed underlings quickly answered, "Here they come again... here they come..."

The three A-10s following close behind began a "rebuilding" project, with their GAU-8/A Avenger gatling guns spraying down on the AK-equipped drug traffickers below.

With a firing rate of 3,900 rounds per minute, this thing was originally manufactured to defeat tanks on the ground, and now you're using it against people?

They stood no chance of fighting back.

"Retreat! Retreat!" El Mencho was courageous, but he also had long legs. If he didn't make a run for it, he would be done for right here.

Leave his underlings behind?

If they're left behind, so be it!

With so many starving people in Mexico, there are always others to take their place.

Whir!

El Mencho heard a whining sound from the sky, and out of a mix of fear and curiosity, he looked up to see a dozen planes flying over, and then... they dropped one bomb after another from their bellies.

In the pitch of night, who could see clearly what it was?

But undoubtedly, it was nothing good.

"Run! Run!" El Mencho turned and bolted, tripping over a stone underfoot and almost falling. With the help of a lackey, he scrambled away.

Boom! Boom!

A flash of light...

The bombers, modified from Mustangs, dropped AN-M69 incendiary cluster bombs!

These were what Li Mei used for her barbecue back in the day.

They lessened the barriers among the Japanese people, as they were "well-done."

These were called incendiary bombs, but in essence, they were napalm bombs, striking the ground upon impact, causing a massive fireball as they reacted, obliterating the small mountain village hidden in the wilderness.

The scattering flames spread out in all directions.

Drug traffickers screamed in agony, the anguished yells growing as they tumbled on the ground...

A charred, blackened hand reached out from the flames, a figure crawling out, fire billowing from his mouth, eyes, ears, mouth agape in a horrifying scream, until that hand simply fell off...

El Mencho was running through the woods, hearing the screams behind him, he looked back as the searing waves of heat caused his face to sting with pain.

"Victor!!"

He gritted his teeth and nearly snarled the name; he was proud, indeed, this big drug trafficker who'd been a petty thief in the United States and got caught was also quite sensitive.

His nerve-frayed underlings were tense, "Boss, the Northern Army's soldiers are pushing up from below the mountain, we'd better get moving."

If you have any last words, save them for another time. Now's not the moment for an "award-winning" speech.

If you're caught...

The underling shuddered at the thought of Victor: skinned and drawn, dismembered by Humvees, hung from helicopters...

Just thinking about it was enough to horrify anyone.

Even Satan would give a thumbs up and say "yo, sis."

El Mencho took a deep breath, feeling dizzy, as his blood sugar surged. He patted his pocket where his insulin was supposed to be. Having lost it, he truly began to panic; if his levels spiked too high, he'd be done for, "Go! Go!"

The fire from the incendiary bombs could not be contained, burning through brush and trees.

The fire had scorched its way through the mountains.

The sky itself seemed ablaze.

Animals fled in a panic, desperate to survive.

In war, no creature can escape.

In World War II, even if you were a bear, you TMD had to take on ammunition.

At the foot of the mountain...

The Northern Mexican Army's Fifth Regiment stood guard.