Evenings fell quickly on Guadalupe Ind.


    Most of the residents in the neighborhood named after the Mexican independence hero Morelos were from the lower ss.


    Their main sources of livelihood were odd jobs or going out to sea to fish.


    But due to battles between drug traffickers and the police, factories had closed, ports were at standstill, and even the only two schools had suspended sses.


    "Ugh, really sick of those damn police. Why do they have to fight drugs? Wouldn''t it be better to live in peace with the drug traffickers?"


    "Yeah, my dad could make some money following them, and just one trip to the United States could earn 50 US dors, plus he could buy me lots of toys, but now these cops have messed it all up."


    "Heard the drug traffickers are recruiting to fight against the cops, 300 pesos a day, are you in or not?"


    A few teenagers sitting under a big tree were grumbling to each other.


    A skinny figure passed by with a basket on his back, head down, but upon hearing their conversation, he seemed to muster his courage, "That''s not true!"


    The teenagers were startled.


    "Drug traffickers are like a cancer, they''re the parasites of this country, they are killing people!" the little boy said bravely.


    "What did you say! Santos, you asking for a beating?"


    "Beat him! Beat him! I think he''s been asking for ittely."


    "Kill the little bastard!"


    The older kids shouted and charged towards him.


    The boy named Santos stepped back in fright, but only one step, then he raised his hands in anger and shouted, "Justice will never die!"


    "Long live Mr. Victor!"


    "Long live Mexico!"


    He charged at the children who were bigger than himself.


    …


    Valentina looked at the worn wall clock, her brows furrowed with tension, two pieces of cornbready on the table, the usual dinner for her family.


    Just as she was getting anxious and thinking about going out to look for him, she heard the door open and then saw a small figure walk in.


    "Santos!"


    Valentina hurried over to him and stopped short when she saw him, then quickly worried, "What happened to your face?"


    Santos'' little face was covered in dirt and wounds, bruised in ces, he heard his mother''s question and cracked a smile, half his teeth were broken, "I''m fine, Mom."


    "I''ll go wash up," he said and ran to the bathroom to wash his hands, tiptoeing to look at his wounded face in the mirror, he gave himself a cheer with his hand, "Hang in there, Santos!"


    When he came out, Valentina hurriedly had him sit down to apply medicine. He winced in pain but grabbed a piece of cornbread and started to gnaw on it, though it was tough.


    "Good evening, residents of Guadalupe Ind, this is Victor."


    Santos'' eyes brightened at that name, he quickly turned his head to the television, Valentina tapped his head, "Don''t move around."


    Santos'' eyes were glued to the TV.


    Victor sat in his police uniform, facing the camera, nked by two armed EDM members, "I am very pleased to announce that today we have reimed the Guadalupe Ind TV station that had been under the control of drug traffickers. From 1840 to 1989, our kin and countrymen suffered at the hands of drug traffickers who created inhumane ughters on this originally peacefulnd."


    "But mypatriots, please do not be afraid. When darkness falls, the sun far on the horizon is struggling fiercely. Even if little boats wandering the seas are scattered by strong winds, they still choose to stand firm."


    "We should be the creators of history. Only in this way can we be truly aplished individuals. Mexico should not be like this, the pursuit of truth and knowledge and the struggle for them is one of the highest qualities of humanity."


    "Mexico is not just one person''s country; it belongs to all of us. I have a dream that one day my children will no longer lose their childhood to drugs, riots, and arson. I dream that one day, they will stand in the sunlight and proudly proim, ''We are Mexican!''"


    "Therefore, on behalf of the Guadalupe Ind Police Station, I dere war on the drug cartels. We will not ept anypromises or threats. We will fight for Mexico until thest man, even if our blood runs dry!"


    "I also sincerely invite everyone to join us. As of today, Guadalupe Ind is under martialw. After seven in the evening, no one is allowed outside, or they will be considered a drug trafficker. I announce that any inder has the right to kill them, and for every drug trafficker killed, the police station will issue a reward of 1000 US dors and keep the informant''s identity secret."


    "Long live the great nation of Mexico! Long live the great people of Mexico!"


    Victor spoke entirely without a script, his expression solemn yet dignified. After he finished, the screen went ck.


    This broadcast was for everyone on Guadalupe Ind, meaning all the inders saw it.


    Many forgot to chew the food in their mouths, staring nkly at the television.


    Dere war on the drug cartels?


    This... there hasn''t been such a resolute person in Mexico since its independence in 1821.


    Some nced and just murmured about a politician''s show, while others waited to see the joke unfold, waiting to see how the drug traffickers killed him.


    Of course, there were also those whose eyes shone bright—1000 US dors!


    That sum was enough to make many people lose their senses.


    "Long live the great nation of Mexico! Long live the great people of Mexico!!" Santos jumped down from his chair, yelling fervently with his hands raised as he ran into the room.


    "Your head isn''t even clean yet." Valentina called out after him.


    "Mom, a man should not weakly moan but should enjoy the pain!" Santos said, standing at the door of the room.


    Valentina was stunned, her eyes turning red, perhaps feeling her son had grown up.


    Santos climbed onto the bed and carefully took down a delicate little box from the shelf, cing it on the table. He opened it forcefully, revealing a police badge lying inside.


    He took it in his hands and held it tightly, lifting his head to gaze at the Morning Star in the sky. He seemed to see his father, bearded and d in police uniform, holding him as a child. He had told him to grow up and be a policeman.


    "Father, please bless Mr. Victor from heaven, he is a good man."


    Santos bowed his head onto his hands and prayed with his eyes closed.


    ...


    "Set up the Browning M2HB on the second floor, the television station is key for us to control the narrative on Guadalupe Ind."


    Victor was willing to invest heavily, as it was estimated that at least close to 10,000 people on the ind were involved in the drug trade. If these people all rushed forward together, the few hundred officers at the police station would definitely be overwhelmed, even with Tairoing it would be useless.


    But the drug traffickers could not truly unite, among those 10,000 were dozens of organizations, and many were part of the transportation line. If you want a driver to do a gunman''s job, you have to pay him extra.


    Therefore, the number of drug traffickers with actualbat capability would not exceed 2000 at most, and many of them had been killed by him.


    But it wasn''t easy to wipe them all out, so mobilizing the public was the only way.


    1000 US dors per head, that was practically robbery.


    But the more such a ce, the more it should utilize lightning-strike tactics.


    To truly pull everyone away from drugs, there needed to be industry. Once the society stabilized somewhat (after most of the drug traffickers were dead), a few factories could be opened, giving everyone a job.


    Victor had indeed taken Guadalupe Ind as his stronghold.


    "Let the bullets fly for a while."


    ...