Victor listened to Bramo’s summary report on the latest situation in Bosnia and Herzegovina, Liverpool, Congo, Glasgow, the North Sea, and other places, his face showing no expression. When he heard the mention of the "Skull and Snake" insignia and "Black Pearl" drugs, his fingers lightly tapped the armrest of his chair.

"Zetas remnants."

He spoke slowly, his voice devoid of emotion, "I thought the fire a few years ago had burned them clean. Looks like some cockroaches run faster than the fire."

"They’re exploiting the power vacuums and turmoil appearing around the world," Bramo analyzed. "In war zones like Bosnia and Herzegovina and Congo, they act as mercenaries and raiders; in places like Liverpool and Glasgow, where social order is beginning to unravel, they infiltrate the underground economy, peddle drugs, incite violence; they might even try to get a piece of the resource grabs in the North Sea, through smuggling or ’security’ services. Their modus operandi is more unpredictable and brutal than regular intelligence agencies or military forces."

"Because they have no nation, no bottom line, only survival and greed." Casare spat, "Boss, should we get our people to clean them up? In Africa, Gals’s squad can take care of them. In Scotland, we can provide McTavish with intelligence and ’advice.’ In England... it’s a bit more troublesome, but not impossible."

"No." Victor shook his head, "To act now would be to admit these tumors are connected to us, to admit our past clean-up left hidden dangers. Moreover, it would prematurely expose our intelligence and operational capabilities in these areas. Let the bullets fly a while longer."

He stood up, walked to the large global situation map, his gaze sweeping over the areas marked as "signs of cartel activity."

"They are a virus, a mold breeding as the old world body decays. Cleaning them up is a matter of time. But not now, not by our direct hand."

Victor turned around, "Let them create havoc. Let the Europeans in the Balkans not only deal with the Serbian Armed Forces but also face these ruleless hyenas. Let the British on the streets of Liverpool and Glasgow feel the signs of an impending collapse of order. Let the warlords in Congo taste the robbery of even more ruthless bandits."

"But, Boss, they’ll disrupt our plans..." Casare was puzzled.

"Disrupt?" Victor’s mouth curled into a cold arc, "From another perspective, they are helping us accelerate the decay of the old order, amplifying people’s fear and thirst for ’stability.’ When gunfire rings out on the streets of Liverpool, when a construction site in Glasgow is looted, when a mining area in Congo is bloodied... only then will those still clinging to the fantasy of the old regime urgently seek a new, powerful protector. Only then will the hesitating middle-grounders shift faster to those who can provide security and order."

Bramo seemed thoughtful, "You mean to use this violence as a prelude to our future intervention offering ’security solutions’?"

"One of the preludes," Victor nodded, "More importantly, observation. Observe how various forces react to this indiscriminate, low-limit violence. How will Europe’s military handle non-regular army thugs? How efficient are the local police and intelligence agencies in the United Kingdom? Can McTavish’s new government handle the burgeoning crime internally? These are valuable insights."

He paused, then added, "Of course, don’t let them run completely uncontrolled, especially not affecting our core interest nodes. Notify our people everywhere: First, closely monitor these groups’ activity ranges, personnel composition, weapon sources, and financial flows. Build comprehensive files."

"Second, when necessary, ’anonymously’ provide key intelligence to local law enforcement or our partners, guiding them to take action but leaving no traces. Third, if these scum’s actions directly threaten our projects, permit ’self-defense’ actions but disguise them as infighting between local armed groups or mercenaries."

"Raise the parasites, then watch them fight each other, and finally, at the right moment, clean them up with the container." Casare understood, grinned, and said, "Boss, this move is high-level."

"The world is being reformatted." Victor looked at the flickering points on the screen representing conflict and chaos, "The reformatting process will generate vast amounts of waste data (violence, crime, chaos). What we need to do is not hastily delete every waste file, but ensure that once formatting is complete, the new operating system is written by us, and can effectively shield and clean these wastes."

He returned to his seat, his tone reverting to a calm and efficient manner:

"Now, focus returns to our summit. Less than four weeks remain. I want to see a safe, orderly, and futuristic Mexico City, welcoming guests from around the world. As for those festering sores outside... let them ooze a while longer. Once the guests arrive and witness the contrast between the new and old world, and feel the value of security, then we’ll discuss how to eradicate these ’global security challenges’ — of course, in our way, and at our price."

The order was passed down in silence.

In various corners of the world, the darkest violence spawned by the collapse of the old order spread like wildfire. Meanwhile, in the command center far away in Mexico City, someone calmly watched the flames, calculating the wind direction, and preparing new firebreaks and reconstruction blueprints.

Chaos can be a disaster or a tool.

The difference lies only in who holds the power to define the disaster and provide the tools.

...