Chapter 287 Casare: If the boss is unhappy, I will be unhappy too. If I am unhappy, how can you stil

Chapter 287 Casare: If the boss is unhappy, I will be unhappy too. If I am unhappy, how can you stil

Victor is really "unjustly accused", who has he offended!

Isn’t it just anti-drugs?

Why do so many people want to kill themselves?

Drawing the sword and looking around, I feel confused, and I feel that lonely feeling that I am the only one who can be decent.

But obviously, troubles don't come one at a time, but in huge piles.

Calls from Tijuana Casare came one after another, and when he heard the boss's voice, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank God, boss, you're fine."

Victor could hear the vibrato in his voice, and he was also frightened. He raised his eyebrows. This news spread a bit fast.

It's like a Yankee zipper door, I always feel like someone is behind it.

The world is a treacherous vanity fair, and the same goes for being a human being. When you succeed, people will congratulate you from the front.

In the blink of an eye, he'll be stumbling upon you.

We are not afraid that our "friends" will have a bad life, but we are afraid that our friends will have a good life.

"Did something happen?" Victor asked in a gentle tone.

Casare lowered his voice and said, "There is a gathering of drug dealers and thugs in Tijuana. There may be shadows of other intelligence organizations behind it."

Hearing this, Victor clicked his tongue twice, "Why do some people just forget about eating but not fighting?"

Do gringos give you a lot?

Am I, Victor, not good to you?

Be a dog for others!

Drug dealer? Kill them all for you!

"There are quite a few reporters still around..."

"I authorize you, Casare, there can be no chaos in Tijuana and no chaos in northern Mexico! Drug dealers? They should be buried in the ground!"

That is our king’s foundation! !

Fatty Ka immediately tensed up and heard the boss say to himself or to him, "Tijuana's population is still too large."

A small broken city has a population of several million, and with its complex history and culture, there is no way you can control so many people.

There is a saying that it is easy to conquer a country but difficult to defend it. You cannot satisfy everyone's thoughts and you cannot control their thoughts.

"The first thing you have to do is to maintain social stability. Just go ahead and do it. If I'm not here, you will be the acting governor of Mexico."

Suddenly Casare perked up.

"Understood! Boss, don't worry, I will keep your Mexico safe."

Look, you understand why Victor likes him so much. Your Mexico, tsk tsk tsk, this is called a confidant, this is called a kindred spirit.

It is more than a little bit better than Sankara's Compaore and Allende's Pinochet.

Casare hung up the phone with a ferocious expression on his face, "Order! The first regiment of the Army enters the town to suppress the rebellion, and the National Guard and police departments at all levels drive away the people."

"Sir, there are many reporters nearby." The secretary said next to him.

"Pull them down and beat them together. When the time comes, put on the thugs' clothes. Also, implement communication control and do not allow any Internet and communication in Tijuana to communicate with the outside world!"

"clear!"

As Casare's order was issued, more than 4,000 soldiers from the Army's First Regiment, who had long been unable to restrain themselves outside the city, marched into Tijuana!

And this farce is actually just some drug dealers who have escaped the purge and are looking for trouble everywhere. They are very mean at heart, how can they really go to work?

How can part-time work be as profitable as drug trafficking? !

And in Plaza Tijuana!

The 11-meter-tall Victor sculpture stands with his hands behind his back, as if he is looking at the whole of Mexico, with kindness in his eyes. (I don’t know where the sculpture was revealed, Casare’s press release said.)

This is currently the largest sculpture in Mexico.

Many people were sitting or standing below, holding various slogans in their hands.

There are those who demand the release of family members in prison. Whose family has no one in prison?

If there are demands, relax a little and don't strictly control drug trafficking. The things in the fields will not be sold!

Anyway, there are so many varieties, which fully illustrates the diversity of species.

And there was a man holding a big lama with eyes. He was very thin, wearing this short-sleeved shirt, and his hair was a little curly. He was followed by two men. He raised his hands and said, "We are going to starve to death! We want to eat!" Are drugs necessarily bad? Medicine needs them, humans need them!”

Some people below raised their hands to cater to them, and some who had been "coerced" into joining in the fun felt that something was wrong.

This slogan is becoming more and more abnormal!

The reporter below recorded this scene, wearing a vest to show that he was special. After all, Mexico was really the first country to use tanks to deal with drug traffickers.

At this moment, the sound of engines and footsteps were heard, and the protestors turned their heads to look.

Pairs of police officers holding shields and wearing riot helmets and stab-proof suits rushed over, shouting slogans to disperse.

There are also loudspeakers playing: Lay down your weapons and surrender! ! !

"Don't panic! They can't do anything. The Governor's Mansion will not harm innocent people." The leader, the man with glasses, saw that the people below were a little panicked and quickly reassured them.

The companion next to him quickly took out his mobile phone and prepared to call someone, but the call could not be dialed at all. He was startled and nervously said to the next person, "Blocked! The signal is blocked!"

ah? !

The leading brother was originally calm and calm, but when he heard this, he immediately panicked.

When the police turned off the body camera, they knew that the world had collapsed...

The friendship and ambition of the brothers will be turned into a thing of the past with the falling of the batons. Listening to the sharp whistling of the electric batons and the sound of the tank tracks pressing over the ground, I really can't bear it.

Three batons, shattering the heroic dream.

"What should I do..." The leader's mouth and tongue were tied.

"Be careful!" Suddenly someone shouted in surprise, and he turned his head suddenly.

He saw a waist-thick water column spraying directly over, "pushing" several leaders standing next to the Victor statue!

Little scoundrel!

Just this skinny rib hit the statue, fell heavily to the ground, and rolled down the steps.

This is enough for him.

If he is unlucky, the spleen inside will be broken.

Seeing the leader being rushed, someone below shouted, "The police beat people!!"

A stone hit the shield in the front row.

There were also people with bad intentions in the sit-in crowd.

A sturdy man with a height of about 1.8 meters and tattoos on his arms, wearing a mask.

Not very impressive at all... You have to show your face if you want to get involved.

The sturdy man rushed up, kicked the shield with his foot, and the policeman had someone behind him, otherwise he would have been knocked away.

The sturdy man didn't stand firmly and sat on the ground. At this time, the shield formation split apart, and three policemen with batons came out from inside. One of them raised the baton and hit him on the forehead!

He knocked the sturdy man to the ground directly, and another policeman went up and kicked him in the head, pulled his hair, and dragged him back into the shield formation like a dead dog.

Four or five reserve policemen inside punched and kicked the sturdy man!

Steel pipes, batons, and maces were swung hard on him.

He was as quiet as he was just now, and his teeth were knocked out.

If there are no accidents in this life, he can only drink porridge.

"Don't hit me, I'm a reporter, a reporter!" A man in a vest pointed at his clothes and camera and shouted loudly in Spanish.

"What did you say? You are a thug? Beat him!" A sheriff kicked him away, pulled his clothes and rode on him, hitting him hard, and his subordinates sprayed pepper spray at the black reporters nearby with batons.

"We are... reporters!!"

"What! You are thugs!"

These policemen seemed to be collectively deaf, and they also went up to the reporters who were recording next to them. The camera was smashed for you, and people? Take off your clothes in the street, and then put on the clothes of drug dealers.

How to determine whether it is the clothes of drug dealers?

It says: Soy un narcotraficante. (I am a drug dealer.)

This is for people in prison.

Human rights?

You are a drug dealer, and you are still talking about human rights. By the way, this clothes sells for 20 US dollars in prison. Drug dealers have to pay for it themselves. If they don't have money, they will deduct it from their salary.

It turns out that these protesters deserved to be beaten. They never thought about whether Mexico would have a future without Victor. Can they still enjoy the beach and sunshine in Tijuana?

Shit! The drug dealers will take your organs.

This sit-in and march were obviously organized, because in addition to Tijuana, several cities in the four northern provinces of Mexico broke out.

In Mexicali, a northern city in Baja California, a march broke out, but before the police were dispatched, local residents chased them with iron rods.

"Fuck! Oppose Governor Victor? I'll kill you!" A yellow-haired man rode a motorcycle with a flag behind him that read: Long live Victor!

He turned the throttle and rushed towards the marching crowd, knocking three demonstrators away. Other thugs who reacted went up and beat him, but the yellow-haired man was also fierce. He rode a bike and held a machete, chopping from head to tail!

Whose general is he!

The worst of them was Hermosillo, the capital of Sonora State!

After the police came, the original demonstration became a violent act against the police. Many unknown people wore face scarves, carried small backpacks, and threw Molotov cocktails at the police.

There were people pouring diesel on the roofs of buildings on both sides of the street.

Once it caught fire, it burned instantly!

In the subway, many innocent people were chased and hacked with knives, and some people even set up bombs to blow up the subway tracks!

And many people were not native Mexicans at first glance. Most of them looked like they were from South America or other regions.

"Rampant! Rampant! Rampant!" Casare smashed the table and shouted loudly, "Have you found out who is behind this?"

Augustin Przewczyr, the deputy director of the News Bureau who stayed behind, nodded, "There are many backgrounds of foreign organizations. We are now investigating who is the main leader behind it."

"This is to destroy our lives! Gentlemen, we must not allow the chaos to continue. I allow the suppression troops to implement a policy of opening fire!"

"Then... will there be a lot of casualties?" Someone whispered below.

"Then turn up the furnace in the funeral home. There are so many dead people, just cram them in. The general has given me all the power."

"Any more questions?"

"No more."

Casare pointed at the table, "All armed forces enter the first level of combat readiness, and pull out those new recruits. It's time for them to participate in the mission."

"The News Bureau must pull out the mastermind behind this. If you still behave like this when the boss comes back, I will kill you and then commit suicide."

Augustine Przewczyr shuddered, "Fuck, brother, are you so cruel?"

You commit suicide, why take me with you?

He looked up at Casare, and the other party's sinister look made him shudder, so he could only nod his head.

"Dismissed!"

After Casare left, several senior officials of the News Bureau came over and asked Augustine Przewczyr, "Director, what should we do?"

"What should we do? Either find someone to customize a coffin and wait for death, or turn the whole northern part upside down. I tell you, if the boss is not happy, I am not happy. If I am not happy, do you still want to be happy? When I die, I will take you with me."

Augustine Przewczyr pointed at them and cursed them one by one, and left in a rage.

The subordinates looked at each other.

"Do it, brothers, the director can really do it."

…

Night.

Mexico. Tijuana. Communications Building.

The lights were colorful, shining brightly all around.

If it was before, many people would come out and stand here to watch the night view, which was also very beautiful.

But now...

The ground was full of dirt, the trash cans were overturned, and the ground was full of stench.

There are more than 36 floors in total, which is considered a high-rise building in Mexico.

This belongs to the richest man in Mexico, Carlos Slim, who controls the country's entertainment, media, communications, electricity, etc.

But Victor didn't touch him.

Why?

There are Americans standing behind him.

Americans don't like Mexican land, but they like the economy. 95% of the money-making things in the country are in the hands of American companies.

In the top floor box at this time.

Very coquettish!

There was smoke puffing inside, and five enchanting women of different skin colors were dancing, without a single piece of clothing on their bodies.

There were several men sitting on the sofa, not knowing whether it was because of the beauty or the temperature.

"Now, that fat pig must be very panicked." A man in a white suit with a cigar in his mouth, with a smug look, crossed his legs, and pointed his fingers randomly.

"It's what he deserves! Governor? Without the care of our CIA, he is nothing. He makes money in front of us, so his position will not be stable!"

The others sitting next to him can only smile.

"This is just the beginning. The guerrillas and drug traffickers in the south will take advantage of this opportunity to counterattack Sonora and Sinaloa. Our local employees will help."

"20 days! We can overthrow Victor's rule!"

"When the time comes, whoever our CIA says will take office will be the one!"

The eyes of the people sitting opposite him lit up and looked at each other, "Mr. Malcolm, if he falls, then these soldiers and wealth..."

"You help us, the CIA never disappoints..."

"When Victor dies, you, you, you are all heroes!"

The CIA employee named Malcolm laughed.

Bang!

The door was kicked open. Jeff Bennett, the director of the first department of the News Bureau, put his left hand in his pocket and held a cigarette in his right hand, looking at them, "Hey, party? Do you want to believe in Jesus or Victor?"

Malcolm froze when he saw his smile, and then he turned his head to look at the other people who were talking in secret, and saw a businessman picked up the phone on the table and smashed it on his head!

He staggered with the hit!

"Damn it! You want to overthrow Victor? I tell you, I am a patriot, and the CIA is a shit!" He shouted loudly, looking at Jeff Bennett, who was smiling, and he perked up and hit him harder.

The other businessmen looked at him in shock.

Fuck, brother, didn't you tell us that you defected?

Are you still brothers?

What about the promise to make a fortune together?

You are like this?

"Throw them down." Jeff Bennett glanced at the woman who was cowering in fear in the corner, frowning, "How many times has the general said that we should be frugal, but you are still so extravagant."

"Just leave the American behind."

The agents behind him rushed up and lifted up the businessmen and opened the window.

The gang screamed and cried, struggling.

"I am a good citizen! I am loyal to General Victor!!!"

"I am Mexican, I am Mexican!"

Four people were thrown down one after another.

It's not high, less than a hundred meters. If you are lucky, it should not be too tragic.

Flying man...

Report!

Jeff Bennett walked over and patted the scared businessman. The other party shivered and showed an expression of wanting to cry on his face.

"Don't worry, we never attack our own people. You are very smart."

"Thank...thank you. I am stupid. I only know one thing: following the general is the right thing to do."

Jeff Bennett nodded with satisfaction, looked down at Malcolm, and grinned.

"Cut off all ten of his fingers. He laughed too loudly just now!"

...