Working as a police officer in Mexico

"Minister." Just then, a subordinate knocked and entered, "We've found out why Mossad is targeting us." "Mossad is dealing drugs!" Augustine Przybylski remained composed, having considered this possibility. Many people sympathized with Israel, and indeed, the Germans had gone too far. But after its establishment, they legalized brothels, and currently, one-fourth of the population had consumed addictive opium-based drugs. Moreover... Mossad's name had been found on several Big Drug Traffickers' hidden lists. For example, the Tijuana Cartel... Victor had found the Benjamin brothers' ledger in a safe. It listed Mossad, CIA, MI6, and even several terrorist organizations as recipients of the drugs! And they provided global security protection for the drug trafficking groups. However, no one could have predicted the "heaven-sent tough guy" Victor in Mexico, who caused everyone to scream. The global drug market share dropped by 35%! All that money was channeled to the Golden Triangle. Everyone could see Victor's disdain for drugs, and it might not be long before the Golden Triangle would be hit too. Many countries had already started hoping that the United Nations would remove Victor from his position as Director of the Anti-Drug Force. Israel was not a rich country; Mossad needed income and intelligence operations were costly. The Mexican Intelligence Department was the same, growing every quarter, now even consuming 25% of military expenses! Thus, Victor's battle was not just against drug traffickers but against the whole world! Too many people were making their living off drugs. "Drug traffickers must die!" Augustine Przybylski stood, saying fiercely. "Let's start by cutting down the big figures!" The subordinate nodded vigorously, saluting! "Victor!" ... Michoacán. It started to rain heavily. The muddy road was slippery. A truck's tires spun in a hole, with several people pushing hard behind it; the engine roared, and mud from the tires splashed on them. But it still couldn't move. These were drug traffickers retreating from the front lines, rushing to defend Morelia! Inside the truck, several American advisors sat. "High-class people" didn't need to get out and push, smoking and discussing topics beloved by men. Their soft voices carried through the glass, aggravating the already annoyed drug traffickers outside. "Fucking hell, damn Yanks!" a bald, heavily tattooed muscular man wiped his face, grumbling under his breath. "Stop cursing, save your energy," his companion responded weakly. "I really want to slaughter them, then defect to the Northern Army." Standing on the other side, a drug trafficker almost laughed out loud, "Go to the Northern Army? That tyrant won't make you push carts; he'll shove you under the tires. A drug trafficker defecting to the Anti-Drug Force, ha...hahaha." The already frustrated tattooed strongman couldn't help but kick the other. He kicked the man over. The other guy wasn't one to back down either; what kind of temper would a drug trafficker have? They started fighting, rolling in the mud. The drug traffickers' leader, hearing the noise and seeing the scene, furiously joined in, but in his red-eyed state, got dragged into the brawl! The bystanders clapped and cheered loudly, even drawing the Americans out of the truck to watch the fight. "What's that sound, did you hear it? Mike." An American raised his head upon hearing a noise overhead, but the foggy air showed nothing. His companion looked up, puzzled, "Really?" Just then, the guard vehicles ahead suddenly sounded the alarm! "Air raid! Air raid!" a shrill voice announced over the loudspeakers. Whoosh whoosh whoosh~~!!! Three A-10 attack aircraft emerged from the clouds, their GAU-8/A 30mm Gatling guns firing 1,350 rounds! Pup pup pup pup... The bullets instantly exploded a drug trafficker's body, riddling an American advisor in the truck with holes, and lifting the heavy vehicle several inches off the ground. A nightmare for tanks, a gun platform in the sky, unleashing unstoppable firepower! The inventor of the Warthog was a genius. Though slow, its firepower was fierce! Nearly four thousand bullets obliterated the ground drug traffickers, turning them into a gory mess, while these amateurs armed with rifles aimed hopelessly at the sky. Hoping...to shoot one down. This type of fighter jet was primarily for providing fire support for ground troops and, metaphorically... When they appeared, so did the Northern Army! Sure enough, in the distance, tanks and armored vehicles approached on the road, firing artillery from hundreds of meters away. The supporting drug traffickers were blown apart, shrieking in agony. Without anyone to provide tactical command, they scattered like flies, some brave enough to fight back. The less courageous just ran. The integrated air-ground assault was becoming increasingly refined and mature within the Northern Army, but the drug traffickers had never even heard of such tactics! Tactics used against a Regular Army... Iraq had surrendered under such bombings. When the infantry arrived, they were basically left to collect bodies. The 16th Regiment's vehicles rolled over severed limbs and crushed bones, making a crisp snapping sound, as if... They were on a mountain of bodies and a sea of blood. Ludwig Becker sat emotionlessly inside a vehicle, holding a map. He was now the commander of the 16th Regiment! Five months. From company commander to regiment commander. Tsk tsk tsk... War indeed accelerated promotions. Mainly because he had captured El Mencho, which was no small feat.