Working as a police officer in Mexico

"Get out of the way! Out of the way! MOVE!!"

A truck barrelled down the streets of Mexico City, with the passenger sticking their head out, gun in hand, screaming at the refugees blocking their path.

Ratatat...

Bullets cut through the air, startling the refugees ahead to scatter.

The truck brutally forced its way through...

Suddenly, a child lost their footing and fell from the crowd; the truck's tire instantly crushed the child's head!

Splat!

The crisp sound of breaking bones, followed by the spray of colorful fluids.

The truck didn't stop—and just drove off—followed by several cars, their tires callously rolling over the small body, turning it to shreds like a torn-up rag...

The ground streaked with fresh blood!

"Ah!! Ah!!" A woman screamed in despair, kneeling on the ground, crying hysterically, frantically grasping limbs and body parts, desperately trying to piece them back together. She looked around, hoping someone would come to her aid...

Her anguished cries echoed as she beat her chest and trembled all over.

The child's blood covered the mother entirely; she watched the disappearing vehicles, crying heart-wrenchingly!

Some of the refugees by her side showed pity, some lowered their heads in sorrow, others appeared numb...

Ever since Popovich was killed, the law and order in Mexico City completely collapsed!

Gangs, drug traffickers, and the military began robbing in groups!

The luxury shops on the renowned "Crown Street" were all looted. The military stormed in, stuffing sacks with gold, jewelry, and even Maneki-nekos.

As for drug traffickers, they robbed the refugees; those who didn't pay were all killed!

Corpses were everywhere in the Kima Huakan Slum...

In the stinking ditches, blood-red rats gnawed at the bodies.

And the wealthy...

They headed south under the protection of their bodyguards!

No, this was known as 'the elegant exit'???

Like the convoy just now, belonging to Mexico City's "Food Tycoon," the Bink Group!

They monopolized food creation, with assets around 1.7 billion US dollars, but he was also an "supporter" of Old Mexico society, openly criticizing Victor's rule.

So, once they realized Mexico City was no longer safe, they took their family and ran.

Inside the vehicle at the moment, the president of the Bink Group, Juan Beckman Santos, was chatting on the phone with his legs crossed, his two children playing with Disney figures beside him.

Hmm...

These figures were something the slum refugees couldn't afford in their lifetime...

After hanging up the call, Juan Beckman Santos glanced at his driver through the rearview mirror, "Sir, it seems we just ran someone over..."

"Dead is dead. They're just a bunch of worthless homeless." He said casually, then chuckled as he patted his daughter's head, "Once we get to the Southern region, what do you want to eat?"

"I want to eat steak!"

"Okay, okay, no problem." He doted on them and nodded without care.

Unbothered that his convoy had just killed someone.

Meanwhile, reporters wearing vests arrived at the scene to take pictures, many of them broadcasting live.

Even a Korean reporter was there—the reason being he had a typical Korean face.

Looking at the corpse on the ground, he stifled his disgust and said to a colleague, "Disgusting, it still smells even after death."

"Mexicans are drug-addicts at heart."

Hey, there happened to be a Mexican reporter who understood what they said.

He confronted the Korean reporter, who, refusing to admit it and accused him of slander instead, got punched by the Mexican reporter and it escalated into a fight. Fists flew and kicks landed as three Koreans were pinned to the ground.

There seemed to be cries.

"Woof, woof— woof woof!" (Please save me, don't hit me! Help me, don't hit me!)

What a spectacle...

"Now we see, the scene is in complete chaos..." A Brazilian female journalist was providing live commentary nearby, suddenly feeling someone tugging at her clothes. She looked down to see a boy holding a little girl's hand, their faces smeared with filth.

"What's the matter, kids?"

"Are you reporters?" The boy asked with wide eyes.

"Of course."

"Then may I ask, can Mr. Victor from the Northern Army see this?"

The Brazilian reporter was taken aback, "Perhaps."

The boy's face brightened, then he lifted his and his sister's shirts to reveal a message written on their stomachs, "Mr. Victor, please come to Mexico City to save us!!"

He yelled loudly, "Sir, please save us!"

...

"Gentlemen!"

In Leon Square, Victor looked down at his soldiers, raising his hand, his eyes fiery red, "Do you know what's happening in Mexico City right now?"

"Bodies everywhere! Utter lawlessness!"

"Do you know the state of Mexico City's markets?"

"The poor are picking up leaves, a small bag of flour costs 20 US dollars, 20 dollars!! That's the expenditure of a poor family for three months!!"

"They live in darkness, they're shouting to the Sky, they're waiting for us to deliver Justice!"

"Gentlemen!"

"Our people are calling us! March into Mexico City, kill those drug trafficker scum who bully our fellow countrymen, annihilate those high and mighty sitting on our heads, tell them we are coming, peace and fairness are coming!"

"Go!"

"Victory will always be ours!"

"Long live victory!!"

"Hi!!"

"Long live Victor!!"

All soldiers of the Marine 3rd Division raised their hands in unison!

Even Ye Jihuan, this 'foreigner,' felt his blood boiling.

"I finally understand why our Village Head told us single men not to gather without reason," Zhang Ziqiang said at the side, his face flushed and voice lowered.