Working as a police officer in Mexico

The order appointing Victor as the Director of the Guadalupe Island Police Station came down swiftly.

The efficiency of the Mexican bureaucracy was surprisingly fast at this time.

Upon receiving his appointment, Victor immediately discovered that his Golden Finger staff of 40 had doubled to 80, it seemed that with any promotion, the number doubled.

So, how many people would there be when serving as the head of security?

The thought was exhilarating.

But 80 people were definitely not enough, Victor began recruiting directly from within the jail guards!

Notices were plastered all over Plateau Prison in conspicuous places, and the broadcast looped the message of recruitment for the EDM reserve team.

"A salary of 1,000 US dollars per month for those selected? Plus 25 days of annual leave and a year-end bonus of 2,000 US dollars?"

"Compensation for on-duty injuries varies by rank."

Many jail guards stood in front of the notices whispering to each other.

"Families of the fallen will be compensated with the equivalent of six years' salary!"

Those who were good at math had already started calculating, "72,000 US dollars!"

Of course, that number is high!

In theory, the Mexican Government surely has an effective compensation system, but do you think those corrupt officials would pay up?

They would rather stuff these "blood buns" into their own luxurious houses.

Sooner or later, all these people would also be swept away!

Corrupt bureaucrats are even more despicable than drug traffickers!

Victor's credibility within the prison wasn't bad, at the very least the guards had received a fair share of sanitation fees, with ordinary jail guards earning an extra 200 Pesos each month.

Hearing now about this opportunity, they went in droves to sign up.

Casare was incredibly busy, but he didn't know what the criteria were. Anyway, the boss glanced over, seemingly relying entirely on "first impressions".

Victor didn't have high requirements for the jail guards. As long as they weren't pawns implanted by some drug trafficker and didn't have too close of an association with drug trafficking organizations.

Minor theft or a tattooed buttocks—none of those were important.

Mexico is just TMD without good people.

If you travel to Mexico, just remember one thing: don't waste your money on insurance because you might not get compensated by the insurance company, life and death are predestined, and wealth is an illusion!

The EDM reserve recruited 220 members among the jail guards, and even when told they had no formal positions, classified as "Police Auxiliary Staff", they didn't care.

Why bother with paltry government rations when there's money to be made?

"Warden, how much is the salary for the official members of EDM?" asked a jail guard who had joined the reserve team, raising his hand curiously.

Casare glanced at Victor, who took a sip of water.

Getting older, it's time for some goji berries.

"The salary for EDM is 2,500 US dollars, with an end-of-year bonus of 5,000 US dollars. If you have children at home, you can get an additional 500 US dollars per child every year for nutritional expenses, and if your parents are hospitalized, we will reimburse 50% of the costs. If you sacrifice your life!"

Victor's gaze fell upon everyone below, their eyes shooting flames, "We will provide a one-time compensation of 150,000 US dollars."

150,000 dollars!!!

The reserve team members were suddenly abuzz.

Victor remained calm because he would strictly control the number of official members. Although paying the members did incur living costs, who would the compensation for the deceased go to?

Wouldn't it just be Uncle Victor moving money from one hand to the other?

"How can we join the official team?"

"Assessment! EDM will implement a last place elimination system. Every year, we will select members from the reserve team for promotion. What we practice here is promotion for the capable and demotion for the incapable!"

"With me, you don't have to worry about being replaced. What you need to do is maintain social order, ensure civilian safety, and uphold police honor!"

Victor raised his hand, "Those drug lords who oppose us, good luck to them!"

The reserve team members cheered!

They were happy, but even happier were the prisoners in the jail.

Wooo wooo wooo...

"The Butcher" was finally leaving!

In the last few days, inmates operated the sewing machines at remarkably high speeds, and their mood at work also improved.

…

Guadalupe Island!

Located west of the Baja California Peninsula in Mexico.

About 400 kilometers southwest of Ensenada city, in the Pacific Ocean, it is a true island at sea.

This place is basically a "Place Beyond the Law," due to its special geographic location, the Mexican Military Police would need to land on the island first if they wanted to carry out any drug raids, right?

Once the drug traffickers control the ports, they're basically done for.

Because of its proximity to the United States, it has given rise to a lot of criminal activities; Tijuana even has a transport line here.

At this moment, in the City Hall of Guadalupe Island.

The white walls were riddled with bullet holes, and the colors of burning were evident, with bodies everywhere, those of uniformed guards and plain-clothed civilians.

Kneeling at the door were more than a dozen government workers, both men and women, shaking with fear, awaiting what they called "judgment."

Surrounding them and holding guns were numerous drug traffickers, who watched them like wolves.

"Don't, don't kill me! I'll leave Guadalupe Island right now," cried a middle-aged man, his voice loud with tears.

Tap tap tap~

A pair of boots came into the middle-aged man's view, and a mocking laugh sounded in his ears, "I'm sorry, Mr. Mayor, but your request is denied. Do you have any last words you would like me to pass on?"

"Money! I'll give you lots of money," the middle-aged man continued to cry out.

"Once we kill you, your money will be ours," the drug lord raised his gun to the man's temple and pulled the trigger, biu~

The bullet went straight through his skull.

He wouldn't have felt much pain, as it directly destroyed the brain nerves.

"Kill them all!"

No sooner had the drug lord finished speaking than the kneeling workers screamed and tried to run, but were shot down one by one.

The air outside City Hall was steeped in the stench of fresh blood.

A trafficker took a spray can to the white wall at the entrance and wrote in Spanish, "Guadalupe Island, we are the order!"

Below it, he drew a skull with a dagger thrust through it, looking very cruel.

"¡Piratas! (Pirates!)"

Another trafficker held a video camera towards their leader, who was arrogantly flipping the bird, "We do not welcome any governmental agencies to Guadalupe Island. We will defend the cleanliness of our island!"

"Especially Victor Carlos Vieri!"

"If he does not heed our warning, we will take righteous measures and toss him into the sea to feed Jaws, you hear me? Bastard!"

...

"Did you hear that? Bastard!"

The taunts of the drug trafficker came from the TV set.

The office was eerily silent, so quiet that one could hear a pin drop.

Casare and the others glanced at Victor who was sitting down, noticing his calm face, but suddenly he laughed.

This is bad...

Victor laughed!

Who on earth would you provoke if not him?

"It seems that the people of Guadalupe Island are very welcoming of us." Victor pressed his cigarette butt into the ashtray, pointing at the drug trafficker on the TV, "I like his mouth."

"Today we finish the handover, and tomorrow we should probably go have a meeting with them!"

…

This chapter upload first at NovelBin.Com