"Turn the table?"
Pablo laughed as if he had heard something amusing, his face quivering with mirth, and bam! He slapped the table. "What right does he have to turn the table on me? I, Pablo Escobar, am the President, the Emperor of Colombia."
"Cesar Gabriel Trujillo is just a bastard. Take him out, find someone to take him out. No, we have to kill all his children too. I want his whole family dead. Isn't he anti-drug? Then make him take drugs, make his whole family take drugs. I want to see if he can sacrifice his family for justice."
Ochoa frowned. He didn't agree with this... clashing head-on, especially against the state. No matter how corrupt Colombia is, some things a drug trafficker shouldn't meddle with.
But...
What could he say?
A Pablo who had lost his mind was a madman.
Ochoa just stood there quietly. A few minutes later, he nodded, "I understand. I'll do as you say."
He felt bleak about the future; it was really bleak.
