Working as a police officer in Mexico

Mexico City, Column Base Plaza.

This should be the safest place in Mexico.

All the municipal institutions are around here, with military police patrolling everywhere, you can even see tanks.

Before 1985, it wasn't like this at all, it's all because Pablo made everyone anxious, he completely baffled all the drug traffickers in the world.

Dumbass, what are you doing!

The attack on the Supreme Court had such a bad impact that the Mexican Government was afraid someone would imitate it and raised the security level.

The Federal Preventive Police department's courtyard is also included, where you can see a lot of people coming in and out. In a small building on the northwest corner, there lies the Prison Administration Bureau. It looks a bit mottled from the outside, but it's indeed a department full of benefits.

Carlos Alejandro pushed a stack of US dollars into his briefcase from a drawer, almost a hundred thousand, zipped it up, straightened his attire in the mirror, nodded contentedly, and walked out of the office.

This is just the time to get off work, and the colleagues he encountered all greeted him very cautiously, "Director."

Alejandro would respond warmly.

Getting into the car, seeing the cake and Barbie doll on the passenger seat, a gentle smile appeared on his face. Today was his daughter's 8th birthday, he had turned down evening engagements just to celebrate it with her.

Home was approximately six kilometers away from work, also a comfort zone. Compared to the slums, the environment here was like heaven and hell.

The extreme gap between the rich and the poor was also a point of social conflict.

After parking the car and carrying the gifts, he pushed open the external corridor door, took out the keys and opened the door, only to see unfinished tea on the coffee table, cigarettes in the ashtray, and toys on the floor. Alejandro tossed the keys on the sofa and called out, "Julia, Lucina~"

But nobody answered him, and he immediately sensed something was off. He drew his weapon from the waist holster, alert as he walked toward the dining room.

According to the Mexican Survival Guide, in case of something amiss, use an RPG. Oh, sorry, that's the Soviet Union guide.

Alejandro pushed open the dining room door and instantly saw his wife and daughter tied to chairs. Just as he was about to rush over, a gun was pressed against the back of his head, and a man took his weapon, a deep voice said into his ear, "Don't panic, sir, no shouting. I'm very timid, and if you scare me, maybe you'll have to go into the Lord's arms earlier than expected."

"Don't shoot, the valuables in the house are in the safe upstairs, the code is 978478. There's 200,000 dollars in there, take it all, I just hope you'll spare our lives," Alejandro said calmly.

He thought it was a robbery.

Such home invasion robberies happened frequently, with chances like rape cases in India.

The man behind him threateningly said, "You don't want your head blown up, do you!"

The statement sank Alejandro's heart, and his mind was instantly flooded with many thoughts. Which deputy director had sent this person to kill him?

A place for every carrot, many had their eyes on the position of director.

Just as Alejandro was thinking of how to deal with the situation, the man behind pushed him, sending him crashing into the dining table. Ignoring the pain, he quickly turned to see two men.

The leader, with a crew cut hair and aggressive eyes like a beast, had a face with scars that was somewhat intimidating, a smile on his lips, "Let me introduce myself, Nuriel Best."

"Someone asked me to have a chat with you, don't worry, it's just a simple talk."

Duke passed over a bulky mobile phone, and Alejandro glanced at it, the latter gesturing for him to answer with his eyes.

Alejandro took a deep breath, his hands trembling, but he tried to steady himself as much as possible. To have reached this position, what scenarios had he not seen?

Although still afraid, he understood, the more afraid you are, the quicker you die.

"Hello~"

A calm greeting came from the other side of the mobile phone, "Good evening, Officer Alejandro. I'm sorry to disturb you at this time. My friends haven't hurt you, have they? If they have, I apologize on their behalf."

"But on another note, I haven't offended you, have I? Since you suspended me, I've had no food. Am I supposed to eat at your house? Do you know that by smashing my livelihood, I can't sleep at night due to anxiety, damn it, losing hair all night long."

The voice suddenly grew louder, startling Alejandro.

"Who is this?"

"Didn't I say? Well, my name is Victor Carlos Vieri, Sergeant at Plateau Prison Third District, sir! Do you remember now?"

He remembered; he had even thought that the name Vieri had an Italian style at the time. It was a suspension report from Plateau Prison, and since Webster often sent him gifts, he had signed it to give face.

Damn it!

He didn't expect such a mess to come forth.

"Sir, I only want to be a police officer, that's my dream. You wouldn't be so unreasonable, would you?"

Alejandro, of course, hurriedly followed up, "No, no, in a moment, no, I'll have someone lift the suspension report right away."

Vic on the other side seemed satisfied, "Thank you, sir. Oh yes, by the way, how much do I need to stuff for the position of warden?"

This abrupt question left Alejandro completely baffled, stuttering without knowing how to answer.

"Hahaha, I'm just kidding, boss. Have a great night,"

Alejandro looked up at Best, "Done..."

The other took the brick phone, handed it to Duke, and, noticing the girl's costume, put away his gun. He took out a plastic-wrapped stack of US dollars from his chest pocket and threw it on the dining table, "Don't worry, your work won't be for nothing. Here's ten thousand dollars. You'd better not meddle in the affairs between us and Webster going forward."

"You wouldn't want this to be your daughter's last birthday."

Best straightened his clothes for him and offered some advice, "Sir, when you're out and about, remember to wear a bulletproof vest."

After saying that, he patted his face, smiled, and walked away with Duke.

Alejandro watched them leave and felt the energy supporting him deflate, his legs going weak. He hurried over to untie his wife and daughter, holding them and whispering comfort.

Most people in Mexico still know that the wise are the mighty.

And those who don't listen?

Hehehe...

Guzman once ordered his men to fire a few shots at the presidential candidates during an election rally.

Arrogance is also a label Mexicans wear.

...

Prison dormitory.

Casare saw Victor hang up the phone and looked at him expectantly, "How did it go? Did he agree?"

"No one can say 'no' under the muzzle of a gun."

"Send him ten thousand dollars every month. Once he's taken my money, it won't be so easy for him to back out," Victor said, tapping his cigarette gently on the armrest, eyes narrowed.

"Does that mean we can talk to him about an external assignment?" Casare whispered.

Victor revealed part of his future plans to him, having a great interest in being appointed the director of a certain district.

The Mexico Police Department often recruits "Police Auxiliary Staff" for lack of personnel; the possibilities there are vast.

Local finances won't support this because they are skimming off the top;

But if you have your own money, you can muster a team.

Around the millennium, quite a few drug trafficking organizations did just that: they'd put someone in the seat of a director and then, under the guise of officialdom, absorb some drug traffickers into their ranks to launder their money. Why?

To leverage that title.

They could join forces with the military police to fight drugs!

Against rivals, it's "justice;" for their own turf, it's being the "mole."

Believe it or not, the brains of Mexican drug lords are pretty sharp.

They know the art of ruling by proxy.

Victor saw Best as a glove; a criminal organization that he would gradually pass power to, becoming a comfortable puppet master himself.

How could a police officer collude with criminals, you may ask!

Those "Police Auxiliary Staff" are his real team, who will help him fight "evil," gain achievements, and then use the reputation earned to enter politics!

His ambitions are huge.

What future could a gang leader have?

Do you know who the biggest thugs in the world are?

"Alejandro is just in charge of the prison; he has that authority, but the most important thing is that I have no achievements. I need achievements to add another notch to my shoulder straps,"

Victor appeared very calm, but Casare was anxious.

"Achievements?" His eyebrows raised upon hearing this, as if realizing something, his expression suddenly twisted.

"Victor, what do you think of my cousin Dragan?"

Victor raised his head to look at him, not knowing at first what he meant, but as their gazes met, he got it in an instant.

This guy.

Wants to sell his own cousin!!

...

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