Working as a police officer in Mexico

Click~

A fat man appeared on the projector.

Fatty! (The author is too).

Augustine Przybylski held a stick in his hand, pointing at it and said, "Popovich, male, 39 years old, born in Guadalajara, Jalisco, the leader of Mexico's Institutional Party, former party leader Bolivi. Odyssey's son, graduated from Paris Political University, served as the president of XIFOO's Mexico division after graduation, and started his political career in 1983, serving as a legislator in Guadalajara."

"There's another one who ran back from abroad," Victor couldn't help but blurt out when he heard this.

What does someone who's lived abroad their whole life know?

All they talk about is humanity, morality, and human rights. Ask him how to solve problems, and he'll say one thing: let the Mexican people improvise.

But what will Mexicans end up improvising into?

Drug traffickers!

Without using force to "guide," they'll only go more and more astray.

"The calls for re-elections are getting louder and louder..."

"Mostly where?"

"In Mexico City," replied Augustine Przybylski.

"Our turf is quiet though; it seems they know what I'm like," Victor was quite pleased.

Those who understand the times are plentiful.

"Let him be elected then; he likes to play house, so let him play by himself. Beyond the Northern Governorship and the territories of the Southern drug traffickers, which territories can he influence?"

There are thirty-two states in Mexico; split between the two sides. Oops, play with the central states as you wish.

Anyway, Victor now needed a period of recuperation.

Consider it a buffer zone between the North and South.

"Children making noise always like to compete in loudness, what's the use of a loud voice? Real work needs to be based on strength..."

"What about Mexico City?"

Victor sat up straight, took a small sip of coffee from the table, "Where I am, that is the real Mexico!"

Augustine Przybylski got it.

Let them play with it!

Useless, can't collect taxes on it.
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After the Southern drug traffickers rebelled, Mexican tax revenues plummeted over the cliff, and the government hardly cared to support them...

And they cause trouble often.

Now the situation is even worse than in Tijuana.

Let them play by themselves, not including them.

Victor planned to let the Institutional Party have its fun, then things would really get interesting; Victor in Northern Mexico, the crafty old Institutional Party politicians in the center, and the drug traffickers below.

The nominal leader of the Southern drug traffickers is still the son of Cardenas, and Cardenas was a big shot in the Institutional Party!

Would the two sides cooperate?

No, no, no.

In Victor's view, they would plunge into a struggle for power, and Popovich would not give up power he had finally "fought" for; nearby states still have about 30,000 Mexican Government Forces.

Either they cooperate to confront Victor, or they battle each other.

Either way, it didn't bring Victor any loss.

First digest the internal issues; stepping too broadly had nearly tripped them up.

"A proper compromise is the best way to shift conflicts; if Popovich wants a smooth inauguration, then let's give him a grand gift."

A cunning spark appeared in Augustine Przybylski's eyes.

The tricky Fox was setting a trap for the rabbit.

At that moment, there was a knock at the door, the head of intelligence went out, and a soldier whispered something in his ear, to which he nodded, "I understand."

"General."

"Hmm? Any new messages?"

"European royals and government officials plan to hold a meeting in London to discuss how to sanction us. Eight royal families are confirmed to be attending," conveyed Augustine Przybylski.

"This information comes from the KGB."

"The old relics of the era planning a restoration?!"

Victor squinted; already vexed by some domestic issues, his mood was foul, and now a bunch of people kept criticizing him from outside. Was there something wrong with his anti-drug campaign?

Was defending national interests wrong?!

"It's like our enemies have formed the United Nations."

"We are all trapped in cages by the innate rules of this world, to obey is to live, to defy is to die."

"They love to criticize us from their high horses because they've eaten a few more years of food!"

Victor crushed his cigarette on the ground, sat up straights; the shadow of half a face from the projector cast on the wall, "Who do they think they are?"

"They like to gather? Then let's give them a real shock!"

"Let London fall!"

...

February 28, 1991.

Light rain began to fall.

The commander of the frontline forces found Zorff Sherman and asked if he wanted the mission to continue.

"Rain? Does rain stop a war? Even if knives were falling, we must continue!"

"Yes, sir!"

The rain got heavier, the adjutant tried to hold an umbrella for Zorff Sherman, but he pushed it away, "I have fought with the general in the North and South; there's no scene I haven't seen. Worrying about a bit of rain and needing an umbrella, like a nagging old lady. If a single one of my soldiers is getting rained on, then I shall stand, watching them board the planes."

The adjutant silently put the umbrella away.

Clang~

A clear sound, as if something rolled to his feet.

He looked down; it was a pocket watch.

He bent down to pick it up, and upon opening it, he saw a photo inside—a girl smiling happily, gesturing with her fingers.

"Pretty girl, what's your name, lieutenant," Zorff Sherman said to the somewhat flustered lieutenant in front of him.

"Engels."

The lieutenant was young, around twenty, and grinned naively upon hearing his name.