Working as a police officer in Mexico

"Throw her down the stairs!"

Hearing the boss's command, the thugs rushed over with wicked sneers, grabbing the woman's wheelchair and preparing to toss it downstairs.

This public housing complex was on the 7th floor; a fall from here would mean certain death.

The woman struggled, shouting loudly.

"Let her go! Bastards, let her go!" Cuauhtémoc tried to rush forward, but he was firmly pinned to the ground, his face turning crimson, his veins visible.

Her son, McClure, also charged forward, but was kicked away by a drug trafficker with a swift move.

The neighbor, hearing the commotion, opened their door but, seeing the situation, quickly shut it again.

"Throw her down! Throw her down!" the man with a nose ring laughed boisterously.

Thud, thud, thud...

Just then, a knock at the door echoed; everyone turned to look outside.

They saw a man standing at the doorstep, wearing a suit, with short hair, looking quite spirited with a Mexican face; not particularly handsome, but he appeared neat and clean, probably in his twenties.

He seemed like a salesman.

"Is this Mr. Cuauhtémoc's residence?"

"Get lost!"

The man with the nose ring glared at him and cursed, "If you don't wanna die, scram."

The man, looking at the scene before him, was also taken aback for a moment, but scanned everyone quickly, allowing a smile to appear at the corner of his mouth, "Sorry, it seems I arrived a bit late."

"CNMD!" A drug trafficker near the door frowned and was about to teach this guy a lesson.

Who knew the other party would pull out a handgun from inside his suit and shoot him in the head; the bullet entered through the eye socket and lodged inside the skull.

The muzzle turned, spraying bullets at the other traffickers in the room!

A military-grade Pistol88B!

An automatic pistol with a 31-round magazine.

This guy had a steady hand, the recoil didn't even make him shake.

Most importantly, nobody could dodge his sudden gunfire at close range.

Within seven steps, the gun was fast and accurate!

The man with the nose ring had a quick reaction, reaching for the pistol at his waist, only for a bullet to pass through his neck.

Clutching his neck, he fell to the ground, convulsing.

The man walked in calmly, looking at McClure, covered his eyes with one hand and, with the other hand, delivered coup de grâce to the fallen traffickers.

This move...

Was executed seamlessly!

It was just like—007 in the movies!

The man tucked his handgun back into his clothes, leaned in close to McClure's ear, "Go inside and rest, boy."

Cuauhtémoc grabbed his son, covering his eyes, and watched the stranger warily, "Who are you, sir?"

"Oh, sorry, you see I forgot again, my name is Ethan Hunt, here's my business card." The man tapped his head, felt around his pockets, and took out a business card from his jacket, handing it over with both hands.

Cuauhtémoc grabbed it quickly, lowering his head to take a swift glance.

"Director of the Mexico International News Department Office?"

What was this?

Why had he never heard of it before?

"I'm a reporter," Ethan Hunt said with a wide smile.

NMD! A reporter with shooting skills this good?

And carries a gun with him?

"I came from Baja California; Mr. Victor invited you to see a drug-free Baja California."

"Victor?" Cuauhtémoc raised his eyebrows, a sense of relief unconsciously washing over him at the sound of the name. There was likely no one in Mexico who didn't recognize it. He turned to look at his wife and hurried over to help her up.

"How does he know me?"

Ethan Hunt smiled, "Victor is watching over Mexico."

Cuauhtémoc opened his mouth to speak; surely that line should be delivered by the Yanks.

"He wanted me to relay a message to you. A true Warrior never fights alone, and a pride of lions is never solitary. Saving Mexico requires the effort of many."

"He hopes you will see his results and share in his joy."

Upon hearing this, Cuauhtémoc fell silent. As a smart man, he understood what Victor meant. He had heard about Raul Salinas, and he knew what the recent turmoil was about.

You see, he was universally recognized as Carlos's successor.

His status was significant, yet this era did not belong to him. Perhaps aware of the threat he posed to Carlos, Raul had warned him several times to abandon any illusions.

There was even an occasion where Raul furiously berated him in the office area, arrogantly declaring, "Mexico is the Salinas Family's, and no one can take it."

The level of arrogance was clear for all to see.

Fortunately… he's dead.

Cuauhtémoc hesitated while his wife tightly squeezed his hand, "Go, you should have someone to help you."

She hesitated, "All I wish is for our child to grow up safely."

Her words struck him deeply, and he looked down at his wife, who gazed back with a plea. She always tried hard to appear strong.

But in truth, she was very fragile.

Had she not cried? When drug traffickers broke her legs, she cried long and hard under the covers, but in the presence of her husband and child, she gathered her strength and comforted them instead.

She was just a woman, in need of protection, yet she also knew the sacrifices her husband had made for Mexico, and she was prepared to endure for the sake of her family.

More than once, she prayed, hoping that God would bless and keep them all safe.

This time they had escaped harm, but what about the next? Or the time after that?

Cuauhtémoc sighed and lifted his head to look at Ethan Hunt, "Fine, I'll apply to inspect Baja California tomorrow."

"Welcome, and don't worry, we will be by your side to protect you during this period," Ethan Hunt replied, glancing at the bodies around him before picking up the cash box that the ring-nosed man had brought.

This was called spoils of war.

He took out a stack of US Dollars and placed it on the table, "Mr. Victor once said that even a righteous cause needs to eat, get paid, and live. You may despise US Dollars, but you cannot do without it, as it makes our fight all the stronger."

Having said that, Ethan Hunt left.

Completely lacking manners.

The least he could do was help dispose of the bodies.

Cuauhtémoc looked around. The walls lacked even a high-end clock, and the carpet was from a second-hand market. His father had never been a man to accumulate wealth, and upon his passing, he left nothing behind.

But the most valuable thing, he always believed, was integrity!

The charm of his father was such that even though he had been dead for over a decade, his aura still protected him. Only... times had changed, and drug traffickers no longer played by the rules.

"Tonight, we'll stay at a hotel," Cuauhtémoc declared as he pocketed the money and embraced his wife and son, "Don't worry, I will always protect you."

Ethan Hunt went downstairs and got into a red sedan.

Four people were sitting inside.

Of course, he couldn't have come alone.

"Protect them well, without any mistakes," Ethan instructed.

His colleagues nodded in agreement.

Cuauhtémoc was an important step for Mr. Victor.

Politics had to be solved with political means.

Violence was just a byproduct of politics.

…

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