Night fell quickly.
The sky was misty...
Rather frightening.
So quiet that even farting would make you feel scared.
Zacatecas State, Masamitra Hotel.
Wholly owned by Tijuana drug trafficking group.
Don't think drug trafficking groups only deal drugs.
Colombian drug lord Pablo even played the stock market, only to be "robbed" clean by Wall Street people, nearly driving him to death from anger.
If not for some remaining sanity.
He really would have launched a northern expedition!
What does this prove? Those playing finance have black "hearts."
Today was the wedding of Benjamín's sister, Manuel Masalva Félix. Don't underestimate her - she was nicknamed "Skull Queen!"
She managed Tijuana drug trafficking group's finances with enormous power.
Her husband was the eldest son of a local drug dealer family - basically a marriage alliance with deep connections to American underground gangs. Tijuana planned to obtain support through this channel.
They couldn't win!
Sinaloa and Juárez could basically sweep through Mexico.
Too brutal.
Those idiots from Gulf Group wanted them to kill Victor before helping - if I could spare the manpower, would I need you?
To prevent problems, Tijuana laid a "dragnet" around the area - basically bringing many subordinates over.
Even blocking the roads!
Impressive or not - Zacatecas State's governor didn't dare make a peep.
The local cardinal personally came to bless the newlyweds.
He didn't want to come, but Tijuana paid too much.
Brothers Benjamín and Ramón warmly welcomed guests as siblings.
"What does Juárez say?" Benjamín nodded to guests with a smile, speaking in lowered tones.
"They demand we give them all our American channels."
"Al diablo! (Fuck that!)" Benjamín couldn't help cursing out loud.
"Oh, brother~" Manuel Masalva in her wedding dress approached, hearing this and complaining, "Don't use profanity at my wedding."
Benjamín adored his siblings, patting her head with a smile, "Sorry, you look beautiful today."
Manuel Masalva happily spun around.
This wedding dress was designed by an American designer, embedded with 210 diamonds, worth about $450,000!
While Mexican poor people desperately worked for a few pesos daily.
Don't say you don't work hard.
If hard work was useful, old oxen would be rich.
When music played, all guests stopped to watch the wedding begin. Whatever they thought inside, their faces had to show "blessing."
The aged priest with glasses was about to open the Bible when suddenly gunfire erupted at the entrance.
All hotel guests immediately panicked.
"Calm down, ladies and gentlemen. Everything's fine, under our control. The wedding continues." Benjamín jumped on stage, raising his hand, nodding to the priest, then looking toward the entrance. Benjamín's remaining brothers had already rushed out.
Who the hell had the guts to cause trouble on Tijuana territory?
"Fighting's started, boss, fighting's started!" The officer in the passenger seat shouted to Kennedy behind him, who immediately sprang up, looking into the distance.
Tijuana had blocked the roads - they couldn't get in, only trying from outside.
"Suddenly someone drove in there and fighting broke out." The officer pointed at two red cars.
Those people seemed like they came to cause trouble.
Definitely opponents of Tijuana drug trafficking group - either Juárez or Sinaloa.
"That looks like Ramón!"
Kennedy was still chewing breakfast - a corn tortilla. Squinting, he saw several people rushing out from the entrance.
He immediately swallowed the tortilla, "Charge in!"
"Bundle the grenades. We're not stopping the vehicle - throw them directly out to blow them up!"
The driving officer nodded, flooring the accelerator until the RPMs went off the charts. This was just a van - a luxury car would probably be dead by now.
The sudden "intruders" became a third party, directly launching a blocking drug dealer, continuing without stopping. Kennedy and others held submachine guns, firing everywhere.
Damn!
See who got unlucky.
All drug dealers anyway!
This confused both warring sides - hey brother, which side are you on?
The officer who'd bundled grenades opened the car door, threw with great force toward the hotel entrance!
No TV drama scene of shooting it mid-air - how stupid would that be.
The grenade dropped right at the feet of Ramón and his brothers, followed by an explosion with severed limbs blooming in the ashes.
"Retreat retreat retreat!" Kennedy panicked a bit too.
The power exceeded expectations!
Those beside Ramón should be his other brothers, right?
Seemed like they'd wiped out the whole pot?
If they didn't run now, even Jesus coming would die.
The van's tires squealed as it ran faster than dogs!
Gone in the blink of an eye.
The other group of "bandits" also realized something was wrong and tried to flee, but were stopped by drug dealers. One car escaped while the rest were shot full of holes!
Benjamín came out just in time to see this scene - his eyes nearly split from rage!
His vision went black, unceremoniously collapsing to the ground in a disheveled heap.
...
"What!? You're saying you blew up four of Benjamín's brothers?!"
Victor was fishing on the island, eating dog meat (dog drug dealer), when he heard this news.
Kennedy on the phone uncertainly asked a nearby officer, "It was four people, right?"
"I was counting, don't worry boss."
Only then did Kennedy report with certainty, "Yes, boss. Except for Benjamín, all other direct relatives of the Félix family were blown up."
No wonder...
Points skyrocketed!
Four people provided nearly 7 million points.
So that was the issue.
Victor couldn't help laughing loudly, "Good, very good! When you return, we'll celebrate your success."
After hanging up, Victor's expression remained extremely excited. He hugged the equally stunned Casare, "Quick! Go to the TV station for a live broadcast. I want to announce this to everyone."
TV maniac, island tycoon, Victor the Duke.
He never really wanted to keep low profile anyway - this incident should definitely be credited to him.
This police rank should also move up a notch, right?
"Boss, you want to acknowledge this?"
"Why not? This is a great opportunity to make our name. We're enemies with Tijuana drug trafficking group - police should have the right to hold victory celebrations."
"If I had enough manpower, I'd even send people to mess with Juan Nepomuceno's funeral. When drug dealers die, they still want funerals?"
"I'll fucking make his ashes ascend to heaven right there!"
Casare looked at the ruddy-faced Victor, swallowing hard.
Boss, the games were getting more and more thrilling!
(End of Chapter)
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