Working as a police officer in Mexico

These rebels really are fools.

This isn't Africa, where a few people with a couple of guns dare to stage a coup, the mechanics are completely different.

Over there, they're masters of probabilistic shooting.

Their kind has spawned the likes of Bokassa, Marcie, Amin, Doi, Mobutu - such "fine breeds."

But shouldn't it be the French who are corrupted?

How come there are Mexicans whose brains have also short-circuited?

Kennedy's word is his bond.

He personally led a team, taking many prisoners straight into Demetrius's Official Residence at "Tijuana Fortuna," a place similar to the previously mentioned "Godr community," home to high-ranking members.

What he left behind in Tijuana.

Others develop real estate for bribing local officers, but once Victor takes the stage, he confiscates it all.

At night, elderly men and women walking their dogs suddenly saw a stream of police cars rushing in; their eyelids twitched - trouble was coming.

"Isn't that Jonathan Aguirre? What's happening?" an old man asked in astonishment, pointing at a prisoner being led away with a bruise on his face, obviously from a beating, his police uniform in a mess.

And his hands are tied?

What... what is going on?

That Jonathan Aguirre is a high-ranking officer in the police force, with a bright future ahead.

They watched this group of policemen rush into the villa, escorting out a crowd of people - old and young, men and women.

These rebels' families were clearly panicked, at a loss for what to do.

"Mr. Victor gave you a chance to progress, but it's a pity your relatives didn't appreciate it, and they even dared to stage an armed rebellion!"

What!

Rebellion!

A crowd suddenly showed their panic, and the old men and women who were watching sensed trouble and swiftly made their escape, dragging their reluctant dogs with them.

"Abe, stop barking! Go, let's get home," one old woman said as she grabbed the back of a Shiba Inu's neck and ran towards her house.

This was not something they could get involved in.

Kennedy drew his gun and shot a woman in front of him three times, killing her instantly - did you think your big chest made you special?

This scene frightened them, and the chattering that had just been there stopped abruptly.

Kennedy, with a stern face, looked at them, "Where is Demetrius's family?"

The crowd hastily looked towards a woman, two children, his parents, and his brother.

"Officer, officer, there's been a misunderstanding! A misunderstanding!" the woman stammered, "My husband couldn't possibly be a traitor; he is loyal to Mr. Victor!"

"You're lying! You... you're definitely the traitors," Demetrius's brother said, equally agitated.

Kennedy had no time to play house with them; with a wave of his hand, policemen behind him rushed up and grabbed their heads.

"No! I beg you, please, spare my children!"

Kennedy narrowed his eyes, "Kill!"

If you don't eradicate the root, the spring breeze will bring it back to life.

Pop pop pop!

The crisp sound of gunfire, execution-style, from the back of the head, bullets piercing through the nerves in the brain, as anyone who has experienced dying would know, is virtually painless.

"Next..."

Kennedy turned to look at the prisoners and smiled, his gaze full of resentment, "Next, whose family will it be?"n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

The prisoners squirmed.

"Kennedy, we won't dare again, spare us a way out, all my money is yours, I'll leave Mexico, I'll go to the United States, and I promise never to come back in this lifetime," pleaded a prisoner under pressure, crying and begging.

Want to go to the United States?

Are you going there to enjoy yourself, or to seek refuge, damn it?

Kennedy nodded, "So none of you choose, eh? I'll choose for you. Let's play a little game, starting with you."

"The game is called 'Tire Superman'!"

"You get a tire around your body, then we'll douse you in gasoline. You just have to endure for 30 seconds, and I'll spare your family."

With a wave, Kennedy's men dragged the prisoner who had spoken up to the middle of the road, fit him with a discarded tire, and poured gasoline over it, all pre-prepared.

"No, no, don't! Ah!!! Ah!!!"

As the officer struck a match, the flames burst up instantly; being encased in the tire is truly agonizing. You can't break free, and once it melts, it practically fuses to your skin.

It's a little game from the Africa division.

He couldn't endure for even a few seconds before collapsing, as his family members in the crowd covered their mouths, weeping softly.

Twenty seconds, no more than that!

The screams stopped abruptly.

Kennedy shook his head, "I gave you a chance and you wasted it."

His expression was ruthless, "Kill them all!"

A policeman with a machine gun mowed down the families of the rebels.

"Run!!"

"Help!!! "

Ratatatatatatatat...

The birds circling the rooftops, perhaps agitated by the stench of blood in the air, flapped their wings and left.

Mr. Victor would surely be satisfied with this kind of "clean-up."

"Move out!"

Kennedy got into the car, leading his men away. The bodies? Just leave them overnight, let the other "residents" inside understand: in Tijuana, stealing, even murder or drug trafficking, usually gets you a death sentence, but if you betray Victor, your entire family gets exterminated.

Don't sleep too soundly at night.

George Smiley from Section 13 was furious.

The employees below were obviously uncomfortable too.

The Spanish intelligence service had to be rooted out. Discover more content at empire

In Tijuana, where do you think you can run?

They were located instantly.

When they stormed in, intelligence operatives inside were in the midst of burning documents. One female agent even tried to draw her gun to fight back but was promptly flattened by the raid team using a submachine gun.