Working as a police officer in Mexico

"It's a real mess," Lisa Halman sighed.

"If everyone were like Victor, how would we make money?" chuckled the Vice President of JR Morgan Company who stood beside her.

The woman's laughter was full of charm.

Indeed, how could these damned mongrels possibly understand Victor's ambition to liberate the entire Americas?

In the Latin American region, some scholars even call him "the modern Simon Bolivar," seeing him as the Savior who will lead Latin America away from the plague of drugs.

"I just can't wait to find out what his reaction will be when he hears we've established a concession here. If he dares to send planes, the U.S. Military can intercept them immediately. Such provocation!" Lisa Halman squinted her eyes, her chest trembling with laughter.

It would be even better to start a war!

The dignity that Old Bush lost must be picked up by the Democratic Party!

"Shall we have a drink?"

Vice President of JR Morgan Company: "I would be honored!"

...

The stuff the Yanks were pulling off in Mexico City quickly appeared on Victor's desk, including all the details of the negotiations.

"Traitor! Damn it! A complete traitor!"

Even Victor, who was already aware of the shameless faces of Mexican politicians, was infuriated. He smashed the ashtray onto the floor. Casare twitched his eyebrows, noticing no other damage, and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Just blow them all up!"

Casare picked up the ashtray from the floor and wiped it off with his clothing. "Boss, calm down. There's no need to get angry with the Yanks. If you ask me, let the Yanks build their lease – once it's up, it'll all be ours."

"That Popovich, isn't he a traitor? Then let's leak this contract. Any patriot will be outraged. We have justice on our side. Not all the officials in the central puppet government are drug traffickers; there are also patriots. We could think about turning them to our side."

Victor picked up a bottle of mineral water from the table and took a sip, his emotions slightly tempered.

"When things get even more out of hand, we'll declare those two a puppet government and rename the United Mexican States to the First Republic, which will surely win the people's hearts."

Victor's expression softened as he looked at him. "You're right about that; you've made a lot of progress recently."

"It's all thanks to your good teaching, boss. Following you, I always learn something of your skill. Otherwise, I'd be an embarrassment to you if I went out."

"Let's go outside for some fresh air."

Casare quickly agreed and pushed open a door inside the room, revealing a lush little garden of about 400 square meters, planted with Victor's favorite cacti.

He thought this plant was very resilient, able to survive tenaciously even in the harshest desert environments.

People should be the same.

A man in this world should not spend his days and nights in lament.

Sighing would just bounce away all your fortune.

"Our military is advancing too quickly; we've taken over four states just this year, and if the second half of the year goes well, Nuevo Leon and Sakatelas will also be liberated. We don't have enough grassroots officials, and there are still many drug traffickers lingering in the deep mountains and forests fighting in guerrilla warfare, including a collapse of social order—the soldiers are exhausted, too. We need to slow down." As the vice president, Casare was fully responsible for the overall civil infrastructure.

He had visited several places, like the capital of Chihuahua State, Juarez, where the ruins from bombings still hadn't been fully cleared, with many bodies still buried underneath.

If the weather heats up in the summer, diseases are bound to break out.

Medical and rescue teams were specifically called in from Tijuana, and relief supplies had to be distributed to the civilians to rebuild the social order—truly a hectic situation.

And places like Juarez that had been battered...

Over 40 cities across four states...

Many cities might have to bow out of the historical stage forever.

"We don't have enough food..."

Victor reached out his hand, and Casare immediately closed his mouth. He stood next to the balcony garden, hands on the railing, overlooking half of Tijuana.

"I have an Eastern teacher who shared a principle with me. Now is the perfect time when the enemy is weak and we are strong, to relentlessly chase down the enemy and liberate all of Mexico. We cannot learn from those shortsighted people who only want to establish separate dominions along the southern shores. We should spend thirty years – ten years to conquer Mexico, ten years to build Mexico, and ten years to make Mexico shine!"

"How many militia do we have?"

Casare calculated with his fingers, "Approximately 60,000."

"We need to mobilize people's power. We can recruit villagers from stable states to serve as Reserve and send them to newly liberated areas to maintain stability and eradicate the remnants of the drug traffickers."

"If we don't have enough officials, we'll promote those who perform well. Who says a 20-year-old can't be a Mayor, a Governor?! As long as he is exceptional, I would even allow him to be President at 30! Put the capable in charge and the incompetent out, and if they're useless, get them the hell out."

"As for the ruins and corpses you mentioned…"

Victor pondered for a moment, then turned to look at Casare, "Our soldiers belong to Mexico, and to the Mexican people, disaster relief is also our duty. We must care for the public as if they were our own parents. No organization or individual is allowed to disrupt civil-military relations, and we also require mayors and civil affairs officials to be on the front line. We come from the people and serve the people."

In fact, military forces from Europe and America also participate in disaster relief, but to a very limited extent,

mostly undertaking transportation, assisting with identification of the deceased, handling bodies; dealing with animals related to epidemics;

securing critical areas, facilities, and supplies;

providing the public health and medical system with food, water, garbage and wastewater management, and other materials and logistical support.

They also have specialized rescue forces, but these people, for the entire disaster area, are few and slow.

Mexico is also prone to earthquakes...

"Go ahead and do it, don't feel any pressure, and if anyone from above or below has anything sneaky to say, have them come to me. I'll treat them to an ashtray," Victor said seriously, patting Casare on the shoulder.

Fat Casare felt a warm heart.

"Join me for dinner tonight, it's been a long time since we brothers have eaten together."

"Great! I still have a good bottle of wine hidden in my office, should I bring it for us to drink tonight?"

"Let's have some," Victor nodded with a smile.

"Alright, I'll go get it and ask the cafeteria to prepare something good."

After watching him leave, Victor turned his head and looked into the distance, standing there silently.

A gust of wind blew over.

This man remained motionless.

Shouldering a population of nearly sixty million across eleven states, do you think just anyone could bear it?

Victor must not fall!

...

Evening.

Light rain!

And some fog.

According to the assessment, it was not suitable for flight.

But Major General Zolf Sherman, the person in charge from the Air Force, still ordered the bombing plan to proceed.

At three major military airports, ground crews were busy loading ammunition, clearing runways, and beginning to disperse birds.

"Durango Airport is ready!"

"Chihuahua State Airport is ready!"

"Sinaloa State Airport is ready!"

Inside the command center, Zolf Sherman heard the messages from various airports, moistened his throat, his chest boiling with excitement.

If nothing unexpected happens...

He would make it into modern military history!

If he lost, he would have to face a war tribunal.

Scare him? Not a chance!

"Initiate code name Curtis Lee Mei Barbecue Plan Number 1!" he commanded, relaying the order to each airport.

Standing by the window, he saw an F14 on the runway, its lights flickering as it began to taxi. This plane was important; it would take the lead, primarily to alert the squadron behind, and in case of aircraft interception, it would charge ahead.

It was also there to provide coordinates for the bombers that followed.

Once at the target, it would drop flares; the location of the drop would be the upcoming bombing site.

Six British Vickers Company "Warrior" bombers ascended in an orderly fashion!

Five minutes after the departure from Durango Airport, planes from other states followed.

Taking advantage of the foggy night.

They launched a night raid on Zacatecas!!

...