Working as a police officer in Mexico

"Dear viewers, this is a Moxin Society reporter coming to you live from the front lines."

A blonde-haired, blue-eyed lady stood in front of the camera with a microphone, "The Northern Army launched a thunderous attack against drug traffickers yesterday, capturing El Mencho, the new leader of the Jalisco generation, alive at the Guadalajara Relief House!"

"This is the first drug trafficker boss to be captured alive since the Northern Army launched the 'Northern Recapture Plan.'"

Rawr~!!

As the reporter was seriously broadcasting, a burly man with his face painted with symbols burst into the shot, holding a flag.

He pointed to his own cheek in front of the camera, muttering, "Kill the drug traffickers! Protect Mexico! Protect Victor!!"

"Hey, Victor!"

The female reporter smiled helplessly, but also joined in the cheer.

This flag-bearing man belonged to a new organization, formed by some retired soldiers of the Northern Army, progressive youth, and quite a number of intellectuals.

They are called: "The New Era of Mexico!"

This organization is quite amusing, its first rule: loyalty to Victor, recognizing Governor Victor as the only Savior of Mexico.

It's written boldly in their regulations.

Hence, they were also known as: Pro-Victor Faction, Northern Faction, and they often emerged victorious in street brawls with the Southern Faction.

And because of the many retired soldiers, they also had a good relationship with the military.

Moreover, with the style of the Hawk Faction, their numbers quickly surged; it's said they now exceed 3,000!@@novelbin@@

Ordinary people didn't dare to offend them.

They also had a main duty to voluntarily patrol the streets for activities that disrespected Victor.

Once discovered, they would be taken straight to the police station, somewhat similar to... stormtroopers of World War II??

Some say that the main leader behind this organization is Victor's close comrade-in-arms and one of the founders of the Northern Army, Casare Gonzalez.

After the flag-bearing strongman left the shot, the female reporter quickly resumed her pace, clearly demonstrating good journalistic quality, "Now we can see, this here is the street in Tepic, the capital of Nayarit State, with crowds who heard the news and came, with the number of spectators exceeding 300,000!"

"They are waiting to see drug trafficker El Mencho enter the city for his trial!"

Suddenly, there was a stir in the crowd, followed by a group of people pushing forward forcefully, thankfully there were many police and soldiers maintaining order, otherwise a stampede might have occurred.

"Quick, quick, quick, El Mencho is entering the city!"

This is a live broadcast.

Tijuana, El Ceyo, Mexicali, Culiacán, Guadalupe Island, hundreds of cities across six states and tens of millions of people are all watching at the same time!

Mexicali, National Guard 223rd Battalion's mess hall.

Santos, wearing a military uniform with the rank of private, knitted his brows in concern.

They were here interning as outstanding students from the Victor Military Academy on Guadalupe Island.

"I always feel like everyone is too polite to me," he said to his childhood friend Campos, who was wrestling with a drumstick. Upon hearing this, Campos was startled, "Isn't that a good thing?"

"Of course!"

"I don't want to be treated as the exception. I applied to the military academy to save Mexico. It bothers me, but I just don't know why," Santos said in a muffled voice.

Campos looked at him, hesitated for a moment, glanced around, "Don't forget who your godfather is."

Santos blinked in surprise.

"The General was there for your baptism, and that's something many people could envy."

In the Sacred Church, the relationship between a godfather and godson is not a casual title, but a specific parental relationship, once established, it cannot be changed even upon the godfather's death.

That is to say, should Victor indeed pass away, Santos might even have a right to succession!

Politics itself is a legacy.

No matter how slim that hope might be, as long as it's a possibility, his status is different.

Campos understood the discomfort his childhood friend felt; young people are proud and don't want to be labeled as someone's relation.

After biting into his drumstick he said, "There's actually a way. If you achieve the best results during future training, I believe everyone will respect you, and the best way to break the label of nepotism is through your own strength!"

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Santos considered this, found the idea appealing, and smiled as he patted Campos on the shoulder, "You're right, you've always had the brains. When I become a General, I'll make you my shrewd advisor."

"Get out of here, when you're a General, I expect to be a Marshal!"

As the pair laughed, they heard cheers coming from the TV and both looked up to see an overhead camera angle.

This was an aerial shot from a helicopter.

Below was a sea of people, flags waving, with at least the entire population of Tepic in attendance.

The camera zoomed in.

A convoy was entering through the city gate, fully armed, and in the middle, something like a cage had been especially placed?

El Mencho, looking disheveled, was bound with ropes.

Under Victor's rule, drug traffickers had no dignity; so-called human rights were for people, not for mongrels.

Smack~

An egg flew from the roadside, hitting El Mencho directly in the face.

He glared upwards ferociously, scanning the surroundings, and stood up angrily to swear at the crowd.

That expression of his, as if he wanted to devour everyone!

The crowd was a bit startled by his demeanor, but was soon bombarded with more eggs.

He was covered in egg whites!

The convoy was quite crowded, and the police struggled to clear a path ahead while also fearing that El Mencho might be beaten to death.

In Mexico, he was notoriously infamous, known for broadcasting his murders, causing many to tremble at the mention of his name.