Working as a police officer in Mexico

"We can see the cavalry is entering the field, but the effect is clearly poor. There's even a knight being pulled off his horse. Obviously, since the greatest cavalry commander, Mrs. Thatcher, the United Kingdom no longer has generals capable of commanding cavalry in battle!" The reporter on site shouted loudly into his microphone.

Out of nowhere, a rock flew over and struck him on the head. Immediately, blood streamed down. The camera started shaking noticeably, and the photographer could be heard yelling, "Wear a helmet, f***, I told you! In India, they wear helmets on their asses; in the United Kingdom, they wear them on their heads!"

At this moment, inside the National Palace of Mexico.

Victor sat in his office, sipping water to disguise his emotions, but his eyes were glued to the television, his lips curled into a smile, clearly delighted.

"Boss, Heinrich Louis Bodmer did an amazing job. That list and this footage have thrown them into chaos," Casare said with a grin, even starting to clap.

"Where did that list come from?"

Victor placed his teacup down. "CIA provided it."

"!!!!" Fat Casare's expression was (⊙ˍ⊙).

"CIA Director Stanfield Turner is now a senior member of Hydra."

The other man's mouth hung open...

"What's wrong? Can't figure it out?" Victor glanced over, noticing his face and asking.

Casare scratched his butt and chuckled awkwardly, "A bit."

"Old Bush wants to investigate the CIA, even plans on creating a new department to counter them. He used to be the CIA Director and knows this agency is like a runaway horse rife with corruption and filth. But do you think they'd agree?"

"You leave your position as Director fat and happy, but there's still a bunch of people underneath waiting to eat."

Clink~

Victor snapped his lighter shut with a crisp sound. "You cut off their path, so of course they'd come for your life."

As he spoke, he leaned forward, his face half-obscured in shadow, like Satan crawling out of hell.

"The tail is too big. It can't be cut off."

It's just killing a President, isn't it? The CIA's done it before!!

"For their own benefit, partnering with Hydra is no big deal. Whatever the CIA wants to kill, the latter helps them do it. That's called mutual gain."

Casare shook his head, "I still don't get it."

Victor exhaled a plume of smoke, pulled a thick file from his drawer, and said, "If you don't get it, then stop thinking about it. There are over a hundred names on this list; have someone take care of them from bottom to top."

"Addresses and family members are all in here. Make it clean."

"Should we let Hydra handle it?"

"Of course not. Since we stand in the light, the one delivering judgment must be us. After killing them, leave behind documentation of their crimes at the scene."

"Pull elite personnel from the Special Service, the Mexico News Agency, and the Internal Affairs Bureau, and form a temporary unit. Mission codename: Tornado!"

Meaning: Sweep them all away!

Victor knows full well sometimes it's unnecessary to dirty his own hands. Watching them build their high towers, entertain their guests, and then witnessing it all collapse.

But organizations like Red Shoes and Bohemian can just toss out a few scapegoats to take the heat and ensure they die without evidence — haven't they done this countless times?

Victor's thoughts were unsettled...

You mess around on my turf, throw a few people out there to absorb the firepower, and then hide in the shadows yourselves?

Not a chance!

If public morality keeps you wary and the rule of law provokes your indifference, then I'm sorry...

I'll wield the scythe high.

Killing with abandon!

Blood flowing like rivers!

If you don't obey, I, Victor, happen to know a bit about delivering a physical "redemption."

...