The video of drug dealer nicknamed Scorpion being eliminated was broadcast on loop that night on Guadalupe Island TV station.
They deliberately showed his photo alongside his charred remains.
Ordinary citizens naturally saw their confidence in the police station slowly grow, while drug dealers felt "fortunate" they hadn't been as hardheaded as Scorpion.
Francisco sat in the bar - this should be his last time visiting a Guadalupe Island bar. Watching the news on TV, even the tequila in his hand felt tasteless.
"Boss, should we take Nora with us tomorrow?" his subordinate asked beside him.
Francisco's hand paused. That was his mistress, and they had a child together. He hesitated, then sighed, "Leave some money for her. Though that tyrant is here, Guadalupe Island is still much safer than other places."
His father was a drug dealer, his grandfather was also a drug dealer.
Drug dealers?
Destined to die violently in the wilderness!
How many had good endings?
Francisco had wanted to be a painter as a child. He liked Van Gogh, but unfortunately, Mexico couldn't even accommodate a small desk or dreams. In his childhood, he hid from his father's enemies' killings - his 4 brothers died before adulthood.
He had no choice but to take this path.
But he didn't want his child to follow this road again.
Francisco downed the tequila in one gulp, picked up his hat from the table, "Rest early. Don't be late tomorrow."
He walked out of the bar, lit a cigarette, and looked up at the starry sky.
"The moon is so beautiful."
Tonight should be the quietest Guadalupe Island had been since Mexico's independence - no gunfights, no noise, no murders.
"Reserve Officer" Santos sat at his home desk, looking outside, squinting, "The moon is so clean."
...
The next day.
Light winds and clear skies.
The sea breeze brought warm air, somewhat intoxicating.
Guadalupe Island rarely had such weather.
Drug dealers came from all directions, gradually gathering nearly a thousand people - all key personnel. Under police guidance, they threw their weapons and equipment aside. To prevent unnecessary "trouble," all civilians were prohibited from approaching the dock.
Military management was implemented within five kilometers of the dock.
Drug dealers hung their heads, seeming somewhat downcast.
During US-Mexico joint anti-drug operations, many bosses surrendered directly when they couldn't win, like Gallardo. But that was against the army - being forced to raise hands by police was truly rare.
Francisco arrived early and chose a good position, but looking across the sea surface, he saw no ships!
"Boss, why are there so many police around, and where are the... ships?" his subordinate also sensed something wrong.
Francisco pushed through blocking drug dealers and ran toward the return path.
"Stop! Get back!" Armed officers pulled their bolt actions and cursed.
"Victor! Where's Victor? I want to see him!" Francisco shouted loudly, immediately agitated. Seeing Victor get out of an armored vehicle, he said, "Where are the ships? Are we supposed to swim across?"
"You're late. The ships left."
This was blatant lying.
Francisco angrily pointed at his watch, "You said 8 o'clock. It's not time yet!"
Victor raised his hand, pointed at his own watch, then adjusted the clock forward an hour in front of them, "Very sorry, Guadalupe Island now runs on Victor time. So you're late!"
"And late drug dealers forfeit the chance to surrender!"
Francisco raised an eyebrow, unease instantly surging in his heart. Seeing the armored vehicle's machine gun turn toward them, his expression immediately became fierce, "Victor, fuck your mother!"
"Fuego! (Fire!)" Casare gave the order.
The Rh202 20mm autocannon mounted on the TPz-1 armored vehicle's E-6 ring mount began rotating, followed by piercing sounds.
Rat~
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat~~
Shell casings ejected from the side, hitting the vehicle body then rolling to the ground with crisp sounds.
Francisco's body was quite burly and tall - such builds attracted more bullets. Why did smaller people survive longer in wars? Because they were smaller targets with lower probability of being shot.
He had at least a third more bullet holes than others.
Alas, being too tall was also a sin.
When Francisco fell, his ears were filled with drug dealers' screams and panicked footsteps.
Someone stepped on his face.
Francisco suddenly had a flashback - his first kill, when he murdered a family of four, trapping them in a car then burning them alive.
Now the drug dealers cried in terror just like their victims had.
Francisco's vision went dark. He died.
Many drug dealers tried running to both sides, but Victor had positioned officers with machine guns. Gun barrels became too hot to handle. Desperate drug dealers jumped into the sea, crying out in despair.
Firearms made death into a string of numbers.
After just 20 minutes of shooting, the dock was littered with drug dealer corpses.
Two TPz-1 armored vehicles with front-mounted dozer blades pushed these bodies into the sea like shoveling mud.
This even reduced cleanup time.
Fish schools could be seen below the dock...
Victor held a cigarette, tilted his head back and blew smoke, "Air becomes sweet without drug dealers."
He was in an excellent mood.
Especially with points constantly increasing.
Though Guadalupe Island's drug dealers weren't as valuable as the prison batch, they still provided him 6.4 million points.
Casare stuck his head out to look at the sea surface. The bloody smell stimulated great white sharks below. Suddenly a gaping maw surged from the sea, startling him greatly. The great white shark rolled up a corpse and dove back underwater.
"From now on!"
"No more drug dealers will be allowed on Guadalupe Island!"
"Gentlemen, anyone dealing drugs opposes me, Victor!"
Surrounding officers stood at attention: "Sí, Señor! (Yes, sir!)"
...
Zacatecas State.
Tijuana VS Juárez + Sinaloa!
They were beaten into retreat, three plantations burned, plus 2 research facilities. Transportation routes from Baja California to the US-Mexico border were severed, causing heavy losses for Tijuana.
In a civilian house.
Several important members of the Félix family sat upright.
"I think we should ally with the Gulf Group. We need help," the flamboyant Ramón, who liked wearing bright clothes, said to his older brother Benjamín.
"The Gulf Group's price isn't cheap."
Hearing his brother's words, Ramón laughed angrily, "If those two bastards Palma and Guzmán attack, do you think we'll still be alive? We shouldn't think the price is expensive - we should be grateful we still have a chance."
Boss Benjamín nodded, "Agree to the Gulf Group's demands." He paused, "They want Guadalupe Island?"
Ramón nodded, "They want that place as a Pacific cargo transfer point. Now there's an unwise police chief there, but with good firepower. I received news that island drug dealers can't hold out. We're just negotiating with the Gulf Group - if they want it, give it to them. The people there can come down and help us resist Sinaloa."
"Very fierce firepower?" Benjamín raised an eyebrow.
Ramón was about to speak when the brick phone on the table rang. Benjamín signaled him to answer first. Ramón smiled apologetically - he still respected his older brother greatly.
"What?"
"All dead!?!"
Ramón couldn't help crying out.
All Félix family members present looked at him, seeing this Tijuana trafficking group leader known for his ferocity looking terrible.
Even incredulous!
(End of Chapter)
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