Working as a police officer in Mexico

"Next, we will explore the museum's 'miracle'!"

The female guide looked at them, "May I ask if there are any heart patients here? Or anyone with other underlying conditions?"

Everyone looked around at each other. A balding middle-aged man shakily raised his hand, "Does an enlarged prostate count?"

The fear that silence might fall was palpable!

With a forced laugh, the female guide said, "Please, keep up with me."

She led the members of the "Victor Sect" into a small room next door, where the air was thick with the scent of formalin and a slightly... nauseating odor of decay.

The lighting was dim!

It was so dark one could hardly see their own hand in front of their face!

"Ah!!"

All of a sudden, a woman screamed out, startling everyone.

"What's the matter?!" Her husband furrowed his brow and asked, patting her shoulder in comfort. The woman pointed ahead, and everyone looked to see a shocking scene!

A huge glass enclosure contained several corpses!

One person was hung up with their tongue sticking out, another was decapitated with the head and body placed together. Maybe due to the passage of time, the blood had all dried up. And two corpses were impaled with javelins, their heads tilted and eyes bulging, standing upright.

"This is the most direct representation of the execution of drug traffickers in the entire museum. In Tijuana, any drug trafficker! As long as you're involved with drugs, I'm sorry, but here, all you can choose is how to die," the female guide pointed at them, "Please beware, Victor is watching you!"

That dark light made her look slightly terrifying.

Quite a few people swallowed nervously.

"Hey! Victor!"

Just when the atmosphere was becoming fearful, a young white man suddenly jumped out, "That's how it should be, ladies and gentlemen. The war on drugs is never a polite invitation to a drink; what we must do is exterminate them all!"

"Have you forgotten the purpose of our sect?"

Red-faced with excitement, the young man raised his hand, "We are the vanguard of drug prohibition, guarding the stars, guarding the innocence of children!"

The people below couldn't help but recite their manifesto, "Our only method against drug traffickers is slaughter. Following in Victor's footsteps, we shall liberate Mexico, liberate the United States, liberate the whole world!"

The female guide stood quietly aside, memorizing the name of the young white man in her heart.

"Forest Gan!"

He was also a college student who wrote letters to Victor, and likewise, an impassioned follower of "Victorism."

This first stop at the "Drug Prohibition Museum" was actually to select those who could lead them in the United States. The female guide was also part of the assessment to see who among these people had the potential to develop into core believers.

She took note of a few promising faces, then smiled and said, "Please continue with me, and next is the last location. After our tour, Mr. Victor will join you for lunch at the adjacent city hall!"

"At that time, Mr. Victor will give each of you a surprise gift!"

"May I ask what the gift is?" Forest Gan asked eagerly.

Without hiding anything, the guide replied directly, "Mr. Victor's famous quotes from his time as a jail guard to the present, along with his autobiographical manifesto 'Struggles of Life'!"

"Signed personally by the gentleman himself."

...

Meanwhile, Victor was in the small garden at the entrance of Tijuana City Hall.

His bodyguard looked around vigilantly while Casare followed silently, gazing at the backside of the woman ahead...

Of course, this was appreciation!

Not the leer of a lecher.

This was none other than Ms. Sandra Cisneros!

The female author who nominated Victor for the Nobel Peace Prize.

"Ms. Sandra, more beautiful than one could imagine," said Victor admiringly. This was meant as a polite compliment, but to his surprise, she accepted it forthrightly and added an unexpected remark.

"Thank you! Of course, I must look my best when coming to see my prince charming."

This completely confused Victor, who turned his head to look at her. Sandra Cisneros's gaze... damn, could it be any more smoldering?

Looking at his unabashed admiration and some weird kind of adoration?n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

...?

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What the hell is this?

"Hahaha, you really have an amusing way of complimenting," Victor's eyelashes fluttered.

Does this dame want to sleep with me?

It's too obvious, right?

But after all, he's an old hand, his skin is exceptionally thick. Is he the object of someone's adoration now?

It's true, Sandra Cisneros really thinks he's charming!

This kind of "bullshit" scenario is actually happening.

Similarly endowed with personal charm, Fidel Castro once hosted a woman from the United States. Her name was Marita Lorence, and she said that the first time she saw him she fell in love, attracted by that irresistible charisma.

Then she got pregnant with his child but had a miscarriage, and when Marita returned to the United States, the CIA approached her, brainwashed her, claiming that her child was killed by Castro.

In January 1960, Marita, on a secret mission, returned to Castro's side, ready to execute an assassination.

Her method of assassinating Castro was to secretly administer poison, which she had concealed in her makeup kit.

That day, she pretended to go to the restroom, then sneakily took out the poison and put it in the water intended for Castro. Just one sip would result in immediate death.

However, to Marita's surprise, the poison had degraded after being kept in the cosmetic case, causing the water to become murky as soon as it was added.

With no choice left, Marita had to dispose of the poisoned water by flushing it down the toilet. As she was about to flush away the poisonous liquid, Castro entered the bathroom and witnessed the scene.

Marita thought for sure she was not going to live, but what she didn't expect was Castro to draw his pistol, hand it to her willingly, and say, "Just use this to kill me!" Then he sat casually on the sofa, leisurely smoking his favorite Cuban cigar. Marita said sorrowfully, "Don't push me, I can't do it, I love you deeply!"

And then...

The woman gave up on the assassination.

This must have been the most thrilling and storied of the 638 attempts on his life!

Which hero doesn't have a beauty by his side...

It's just that Victor has a certain quirk—others woo women with gold, necklaces, flowers; he never chases after women because he would start by firing three shots.

The ones who don't die, he then calls "hero"!

"Uh... I'm very grateful for Ms. Sandra's nomination..."

"You can call me Mariel, it's my nickname. Only the people closest to me use it."

Sandra Cisneros looked at his dodging eyes and, hands behind her back, hopped in front of Victor, "Is that all you want to talk to me about, just about this sort of dull work? Maybe, we should sit somewhere and have a drink."

Latin American women are quite wild; red-light districts wouldn't be so famous otherwise.

But...

It's not that Victor doesn't understand romance.

Sister, you're 35 years old, your body's sagging down there!

Do you think I'm not picky with my food?

I have my standards too, okay?

But of course, he couldn't say that. Victor checked the time. "I prefer to hold myself to strict standards. As long as the drug prohibition campaign has not yet succeeded, all I have to do is to work hard and keep progressing. During this time, I will not consider allowing myself to relax."

Casare was listening from behind with a slight movement of his lips.

You just think she's not pretty. If it were some other young woman, would you try anything?

Wouldn't you just be after her body?

If it were the female journalist Belsaria Ramsfield, you'd have dropped your pants already.

Pah!

Jerk!

...