Working as a police officer in Mexico

From Parsel Keat's jacket pocket, a pocket watch rolled out, as if equipped with navigation, and stopped at Ricardo's feet.

The pocket watch was open.

Inside, it revealed a family photo.

"My wife is pregnant!"

"I want my child to be a drug enforcement officer!"

"For a world that's azure and clear!"

Parsel Keat's words seemed vivid as if they were right before one's eyes, an American family had sacrificed too much for the anti-drug cause.

But as Roman Roland said, "Even if the entire world is destroyed, there must still be justice."

Ricardo snatched up the pocket watch from the ground, and he suddenly thought, when would Mr. Victor go to the United States for a visit, to meet that American family.

"Be careful!"

Gómez kicked him down to the ground with the back of his foot, while he himself, dragging the machine gun, arched back, as bullets pinged off the stones in front of him.

On the rooftop's northwest corner of the new judicial building, a ZU-23 anti-aircraft gun was unleashed in a sweeping horizontal fire!

When the anti-aircraft gun was swept horizontal, military law... f*** squid!

Who the hell cares about you!

The ZU-23 anti-aircraft gun, paired with the ZAP—23 optical mechanical sights and T3 straight tube sights, turns this bastard into a giant modern rifle.

23mm caliber bullets.

What could the task force's machine guns do to resist?

It was completely like a small calamari meeting Jaws, completely unreasonable.

Gómez lay on the ground, listening to the bullets whizz overhead, his mouth half open, who knew what he was shouting?

This pressure was immense!

It was no wonder that after fighting in battle, one needed to see a psychologist. High-intensity living on the edge of death could easily break a person.

The renowned psychologist, one of the nuclear summoning majors, the Gravedigger of Sulphur Island, General Ushijima Mitsuru, once said, "Anyone can break down in war!"

Just when Gómez thought he was going to meet his end here, he felt the twin machine guns stop firing.

The sniper's voice came through the headset, "Buddy, are you planning to shove your dick into the ground with force? You can't f*** through the earth."

Ricardo, lying behind, also tugged at Gómez's ankle, signaling that he could retreat now; HEAT had already withdrawn from the battlefield.

The two of them ended up being in the very back!

F***, you can't just forget about us!

In the abandoned rubble, the two men ran swiftly, the helicopter pilots in the sky seemed to have great confidence in their combat skills.

Diving down, the machine gun swept across in firing!

The bullets chased from behind...

The men ran ahead.

"Aaaaahhh!!!" Ricardo screamed, almost jumping with his feet.

But if you fly that low...

That's just asking for death!

The action group members who had been waiting for the armed helicopter pulled out a rocket launcher and fired a single shot!

Your glass is bulletproof, I can't penetrate it, but I can blow you up.

With the development of weapons at this point, every weapon has its nemesis; there is no such thing as the absolute best weapon.

A few hundred or even ten million dollar armed helicopter, meeting a few thousand dollar RPG, you also have to kneel down and call it father.

"Climb! Climb! Rocket!"

Another crew member, seeing the incoming missile, screamed so loudly his voice distorted, and he immediately took control and began pulling the stick; others snatch car steering wheels, he seizes control of a helicopter.

The Mi-28, not firmly controlled, had its rotor blades crash into a nearby building, sparking and flashing like lightning; the rocket struck the side of the helicopter, blowing away half of its body, and it fell in a ball of flames.

What does this illustrate?

It's crucial to prioritize safety when operating any vehicle.

Flying a plane, the result is the same; direct loss.

EDM and HEAT retreated according to the plan, and as they did, Mexican news department agents set off explosions in 11 different locations.

The fight had come to this point.

The Colombian Government really could not sit still any longer.

The Minister of Defense, Carlos Yeras Restrepo, immediately dispatched military police to the scene to start separating the fighters, stating you all have been too lawless in the Capital!

This is Santa Fe de Bogota!

The face of Colombia, with numerous diplomats and foreign tourists, although just around the new judicial building, but you've got armed helicopters, tanks, out.

What the hell are you doing?

But as soon as the military police moved, Pablo's call came through, cursing at Restrepo with every swear word and derogatory term he could muster.

"You dare to meddle in my affairs!"

"Do you think the lives of your parents and children don't matter?"

"Restrepo! I'm telling you, you're a dead man!"

After he spoke, he didn't wait for the minister to respond and hung up the call. How could a nearly 60-year-old handle such threats? He clutched his chest, which started to hurt.

Pablo actually had one good quality.

He did what he said; if he said your entire family would die, then tomorrow your whole family would die!

Thinking of what was to come, Restrepo's face also showed fear; should he resign and leave?

Where to go?

The United States? No, the drug traffickers there are ferocious.

How about Mexico?

I hear that Victor there... is quite polite.

However, he really couldn't understand, who exactly had upset Pablo? Who dared to interfere with his good fortune at this time?

American Special Forces?

He hadn't heard of any operations!

Restrepo took a deep breath, picked up the cup on the table, his hands still shaking.

When Pablo gets angry, he doesn't care who you are.

Colombian Government Forces?

Fight!

The 76th Brigade stationed there immediately clashed with the drug traffickers, and the conflict quickly spread to encompass all of Santa Fe de Bogota, involving around 400,000 people in the crossfire.

Journalists unafraid of death stood on rooftops broadcasting live to the streets below.

But no sooner had they said a few words, a grenade from nowhere landed on the roof, and in an instant, the journalists were gone, and the connection was lost.

The hosts in the Colombian TV studio were dumbfounded, glancing at each other. They called out a couple of times, but no one responded.

"OMG!" the female host exclaimed, covering her mouth.

"Try reconnecting," the male host shouted.

After a few minutes of attempts, miraculously, the camera feed came back online, but the scene it captured was horrifying.

Journalists lay twitching in pools of blood, the camera broadcasting their panicked, fearful breathing, and their feeble cries for help.

The rooftop's metal door was brutally kicked open, and in rushed a squad of Medellin Cartel "uniformed" traffickers. Spotting the journalists on the ground, they raised their guns and opened fire!

"Ah!" the female reporter covered her eyes, unable to watch.

The traffickers methodically targeted each one. Even those killed by the grenade were shot again.

One of the traffickers noticed the camera's red light still flashing. He picked it up, and his face appeared before all the Colombian viewers.

Triangular eyes, a big beard, a cigarette in his mouth, and wearing an army green cap, his gaze was indifferent, the very image of a bandit.

He grinned at the camera, drew his hand across his neck in a throat-slitting gesture, pointed the gun at the lens, and pulled the trigger!

Bang!

He wrecked the camera.

The TV hosts were restless but tried to keep smiling forcefully, but finally, the female host, thinking of the trafficker's gesture, burst into tears.

This scene was witnessed by at least a million people!

Meanwhile, taking advantage of the chaos, the task force scattered and broke out, heading to prearranged vehicles to drive straight to a private airport. But en route, they received a message.

"What! All Colombian flights grounded, I understand," said an employee of the Mexican news department, furrowing his brow while sitting in the passenger seat, he turned to Kennedy and the others with a somewhat relaxed expression, "Gentlemen, we can't fly anymore. Perhaps, the Colombians are not in the best of moods today."

"Map!"

A team member quickly took out a map they carried, marked with routes by the Mexico Joint Operations Department.

Kennedy's finger traced along it.

"Proceed with Plan B!"

"Enter Ecuador."

But the U.S. Military doesn't have a base there...

Kennedy turned to Jonathan Pannier, "Can the DEA get us out?"

Now it depended on whether the United States had any clout.

The Three Musketeers of North America—Canada is useless, Mexico is unreliable, now all eyes were on Big Brother.

Jonathan Pannier nodded, "No problem."

Hopefully...

"Then let's go to Ecuador and report to Mr. Victor," Kennedy said.

...

Mr. Victor claimed not to care about the "Joint Task Force" operations, but he was actually very concerned.

He was watching the points rack up.

The points soared.

The ranking system made it clear which notorious big drug traffickers had died.

At the top was Blanco.

Points: 210 million!

She was one of the rare female big drug traffickers. That must have also contributed to her points tally, plus her decades-long reign over the underworld, directly or indirectly resulting in the deaths of no fewer than ten thousand people.

Following her was the number two from the Cali Cartel: Miguel.

His points were slightly lower: 170 million!

Mainly because he started later than Blanco and, most importantly, the Cali Cartel did not subscribe to violent solutions. No, a drug trafficking organization disguised as "financial" tycoons, more akin to a Fortune 500 company.

They preferred to pave their way with money.

This greatly conflicted with Pablo's "violence theory".Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Below them were some unknowns, but Golden Finger considerately also listed their affiliations.

Names like the Trout Gang from Guatemala, the Armed Forces of Colombia, etc., sounded like small fries but had significant influence in Latin America.

So far, more than 500 people had been killed!

This wave of points brought in 1.5 billion, totalling 3 billion points!

The next step was to focus on development, leverage the economy of the two states, and with the points, further enhance military power, especially to foster good relations with the United States.

Mexico urgently needed an air force!

Thud, thud, thud~

As Victor pondered his next move, there was a knock on the door. Casare walked in, "Boss, there's news from the action group."

"Colombia has imposed air control, the task force is retreating towards Ecuador, and they've contacted the DEA for assistance there," Casare reported.

"However, the casualties are heavy."

"HEAT lost 26 men, EDM lost 19... They say Pablo got away, boss, this operation... it failed!"

"Failed?"

"No, we were successful," Victor shook his head. "This operation was meant to crush his arrogance, to tell him that drug trafficking must be covert. The idea of being legitimate is impossible!"

"Rats should always hide in the sewers."

"He didn't die, but what about the other high-level members of the Medellin and Cali Cartels? Did they not die as well?"

"Pablo is hard to kill, we couldn't provide reinforcements. If we had an Anti-Drug Force base overseas in North America, we could have eradicated them with our own methods."

Mexico is eight thousand kilometers away from Colombia, round trip. What kind of fighter jets could make that journey?

The focus of this operation was to shake up the North American Drug Syndicate and show them their place, aligning with the DEA's objectives.

"Announce that the Mexican Drug Enforcement Agency will issue a global manhunt for Pablo!"

...