Working as a police officer in Mexico-Chapter 1019 - 526: "Hey, you are really a damn genius!" _2

Chapter 1019: Chapter 526: "Hey, you are really a damn genius!" _2

The Ares Defense Company swept its territory, infuriating him, daring to curse at the previous president right to his face, of course, his behavior must be insane.

The Drug Enforcement Department didn’t hide anything, openly admitting it was their own doing.

Marcos Camacho planted a bomb in the largest shopping mall in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, killing and injuring many people.

He planned to take revenge on Luz Inasi Lu Dasilva, sending about ten gunmen to eliminate him.

Engaged in a firefight with employees responsible for his security from Ares Defense Company...

Killed six people, while four others fled.

Marcos Camacho still had his men constantly watching Dasilva’s family, with a stance clearly aiming to kill him...

He even publicly declared in the media that as long as the Brazilian government enforced drug laws, he would continuously launch attacks, and then we’ll see whose side the people are on.

He is forcing the government to compromise!

Marcos Camacho understood better that lower-level people... they only want to live humbly.

Luz Inasi Lu Dasilva certainly didn’t want to compromise, but the protests and public pressure felt like a hunchback on his back.

"No problem, sir, I will catch this little rat."

Hannibal grinned broadly. freewebnσvel.cøm

"Let there be peace in the world." Da Silva nodded, flicking the cigarette butt off the viewing platform with flair, but don’t try this at home, causing a fire wouldn’t be good.

After chatting for a couple more sentences, Da Silva left Christ Mountain under the protection of bodyguards, while Hannibal remained standing, silently smoking.

"Bring the people up." He said softly.

An employee standing nearby responded, immediately pushing a number of people over, all crying, but keeping their voices low, afraid of angering them.

Three men and two women, the two women were the wife and daughter of Marcos Camacho’s confidant from Capital First Command, while the three men were gunmen from the organization.

The group was pushed over, kneeling on the ground.

"Where is Marcos?"

Hannibal walked to the side of the first man in the left row and asked, the man gritted his teeth and said nothing.

Slap!

A slap!

The man still wouldn’t speak...

Slap!

Another slap.

Hannibal straightened up, "Teach him a lesson."

An employee pulled out a dagger, grabbed the man’s nose, and forcefully sliced it off amidst pain and screams, leaving him gasping for air, hollering in agony.

"Where is Marcos Camacho!!" Hannibal yelled, stepping on the man’s head.

"I... I don’t know!!"

The man was tough.

Hannibal lifted his head, squinting, moving to the next one, while the employee behind him aimed a gun at the man’s head and fired a shot.

Using a Desert Eagle!

The head... the skull flew everywhere?

"Do you know?"

Hannibal looked calmly at the next person, the man’s face was very youthful, looking about 15 or 16 years old, but he had several lives to his name.

Only those who have been to Latin America know...

This place is truly filled with despair.

What you are born as is what you remain, the poor can only be drug dealers, smugglers, prostitutes, and so on. Want to climb up?

The door has been locked shut.

Stay in peace for too long and you’ll assume the outside world is just like yours.

That’s why Mexicans hold Victor in such high esteem, calling him groundbreaking is no exaggeration.

Fear shone in the man’s eyes, his body trembling all over, lips tightly sealed.

Hannibal shook his head, about to move on...

"Don’t kill me, he’s in the Caldwell District!!!"

Hannibal reached out to press down the raised gun of an employee, looking at the man who had wet his pants in fear; it seems some people will still fear under the gun.

"Are you willing to take us there?"

He tried to smile, but the smile was more terrifying under the moonlight!

...

Sonora State, the famous desert prison.

Covering an area of 160,000 square meters!

At the entrance...

You can see long wooden poles about three or four meters high, with dried corpses hanging on them, bound as if crucified like Jesus, roasted to death while still alive.

"Don’t... don’t hang me!"

"I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t dare be lazy again, don’t hang me!"

Shrill cries attracted the gaze of the prisoners busy planting cacti, but they... showed a numb expression.

Wearing short sleeves, their skin showed that many had sunburns.

Their gaze was sympathetic yet expressionless, looking at two jail guards dressed in black uniforms dragging a drug trafficker, whose legs kicked vigorously, struggling nonstop, binding his hands and hanging him on the pole.

"You bastards, I’m telling you, staying alive is a gift from General Victor, and you still want to be lazy? Pah! Then let you rest forever!"

The warden with a major’s insignia said, wearing sunglasses and hands behind his back.

This prison holds over two thousand, all drug traffickers or felons. Sentencing? Damn it, for Mexican drug traffickers, there’s no sentence, just work them to death!

The warden nodded in satisfaction as no one refuted him, "Dinner time."

The jail guard beside him shouted, "Squat down, squat down, dinner time!"

The prisoners hugged their heads and squatted down.

Then someone drove a small cart over, placing buckets on it, and people standing beside grabbed two potatoes and dropped them in front of the prisoners.

"Eat sparingly, no dinner, just two potatoes today."

Here, you can choose between a fist-sized potato or a potato-sized fist, pick one.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from f(r)eeweb(n)ovel.𝒄𝒐𝙢