Working as a police officer in Mexico

Casare glanced at everyone present and whispered softly, "General, should we check who wrote this?"

During crowded occasions, address by titles!

"What for? Afraid I'll die from anger?" Victor laughed and waved his hand, "It just feels like we are the villains."

"Since they call me a Tyrant, I'll show them what tyranny is. How many people are still in the prison?"

"About 110,000 drug traffickers."

"Kill them all!"

Hiss!

A collective gasp filled the office.

"They want to free the drug traffickers, then I will give them a humane destruction," Victor said nonchalantly, but the murderous intent in his tone was unmistakable.

Victor didn't explain why, and they didn't ask.

But everyone knew clearly, the upcoming battle would be prolonged and bloody. Keeping these drug traffickers would only bring more troubles. If there were disturbances in the rear during the war, it would be better to resolve it completely.

What about sending them for medical research?

Dare you use a drug trafficker's organs?

Many of their indicators are off the charts, implanting them would be direct malfunction.

"Let me hand this matter over to…" Victor looked around at everyone, "the Post-execution Company."

Another unheard of "Commercial Company."

In fact, it is a government-run "Disabled Veterans Sanatorium," managed top to bottom by veterans primarily responsible for assisting the government in disposing of drug traffickers' bodies.

They receive funding from the treasury every year, creating value for the society.

It is also the only official entity allowed to be "armed" that is not government structured, with approximately 2,000 members, covering the entire republic.

"Their drug traffickers can call people, our Drug Enforcement Warriors can also call out. Release the 'Drug Enforcement White Paper,' expose the ugly face of the Popovich Puppet Government, let the entire world see it, and call upon all the conscientious warriors around the world to join our ranks!"

"General, should we contact the Soviet Union?" George Smiley asked, reaching out.

"Do you want to start a world war?"

The other was slightly embarrassed.

"Moreover, given the current state of the Soviet Union, they are hardly in any mood to trouble Americans; they can barely protect themselves."

This remark caused silence in the office.

After entering 1991, the situation in the Soviet Union had plummeted dramatically!

In the first half of the year, two countries had already left, Lithuania and Georgia.

And Victor knew that by August, there would be an exodus. Everyone could see that the Soviet Union was no longer viable and did not want to go down with it.

At such a time, who would have the audacity to send troops to support Mexico?

Even if some hardliners within the Soviet Union had previously contacted Victor hoping for assistance, how could they help?

The pro-capital faction and traitors were already hanging high, and the class conflict had clearly destabilized the internal situation.

The only way left was dissolution.

Rescue?

Even the Father would receive a couple of slaps.

"From today, we establish a temporary general camp, with Horatio Herbert Kitchener as the chief commander, in full charge of conducting operations against the puppet government, Kennedy as the deputy commander, and Erich Ludendorff as the deputy commander."

"Cuauhtémoc and Casare will coordinate logistics."

"Activate the 'temporary war mobilization act'!"

"Gentlemen, the opposition's bullets are flying towards us, the only way to protect our fledgling regime is to fight!" Victor's gaze met theirs as he quietly said, "Please!"

...

20 kilometers north of Tijuana, in Seburn Village, which is only six kilometers from the US border, drug traffickers used to prefer settling in such places.

Of course, that was in the past, now…

Who the hell dares to commit crimes here?

It was noon, somewhat hot.

You could see farmers with hoes laughing as they walked back home. Each person was sweating profusely, but everyone was cheerful.

They had their own land!

"Dad, in a couple of days the potatoes will be ripe. Then we'll take them to town to sell to the supply and marketing cooperative. After that, we can fix the house up a bit, and once my younger brother graduates from middle school, he can start an internship at the factory. Then, our life will improve another notch," a simple-looking young man said with a smile, appearing to be in his early twenties.

Next to him, a middle-aged man with a limp, whose face looked as if carved by a knife, had a cheap cigarette in his mouth. Hearing this, he revealed a smile, blind in one eye, with the other eye expressing a longing for a better life.

The two walked back home where a table was set up in the courtyard. A young girl was drawing and looked up at the sound, her eyes lighting up, "Dad, brother!"

As she ran over.

The simple young man laughingly lifted her up, twirling her around, her bell-like laughter echoing around.

"Jina, stop hanging onto your brother, go wash your hands, it's time to eat," a woman came out of the house wrapped in a scarf, holding a dish, and said with a smile.

The girl responded and climbed down from her brother, swinging her braids as she went to wash her hands.

Just as the family was preparing to eat, they heard the village loudspeaker announce, "Militia members, please hurry to the village meeting room."

The simple young man stood up, "Mom and dad, I'll head over first."

"Go ahead."

"Rodri, take an ear of corn."

"No need, I'll be back soon."

After saying this, the young man sprinted off, and you could see many young and middle-aged men running as well.

"What's this about?" the woman murmured.

When Rodri and several companions arrived at the meeting room, they saw the Village Head and several village officials sitting solemnly.

"Is everyone here? If so, I'll get straight to the point. According to Tijuana's 3rd Law, activate the 'temporary war mobilization act.' All militia members are to be transferred to the army and report to the local armed forces office within two days!"