Working as a police officer in Mexico

Casare looked at Alfred Schlieffen, "You're in charge now."

"Yes, sir!"

He ran back to the team, shouting, "First Battalion Commander, move your TPz-1 armored vehicle out, move it out, and have the Second Battalion infantry follow in coordination."

He paused for a moment and ran back, "Sir, I want to raid Barrio 18's base tonight and crush Edgar Santos Castro in one fell swoop."

"Do it your way!"

"Yes!"

"Raiding Barrio 18 tonight? Will it..." A Salvadoran official, having overheard him, was shocked and hurriedly asked, with a slightly panicked tone.

Damn, I haven't notified anyone yet, can you wait for me to make a call?

Casare's smile slowly faded, "Gentlemen, don't worry, it's not a problem."

Being stared at like that, the official who spoke up gave an awkward smile, feeling that the Mexican's gaze was quite off.

Alfred Schlieffen hurried to make arrangements, and soon, everyone saw a 30-person combat team boarding an AH-64 armed helicopter and two Sikorsky UH-60 "Black Hawks," flying into the night.

What they didn't know was that this 30-person team originally belonged to the SWAT Special Police Force, Special Police Company, formed after being separated from it: Earth Warrior!

None of them were rookies; they were all seasoned veterans with strong combat capabilities.

Even before the Mexican vanguard arrived, intelligence personnel had already covered the area, sweeping like radar, scanning for the rats lurking in the shadows.

What needed to be known was already known.

Now at the age of 55, Edgar Santos Castro came from a family of priests. His father and brother were both priests, and he, of course, inherited the profession. However... during the process, he embraced Liberation Theology and had fought in a civil war.

But his mind was sharp, and he couldn't stand solitude. He started dealing drugs while in Grenada, then moved through various countries after leaving the guerrillas, and established his own gang in the United States.

Barrio 18!

In just a few years, they dominated areas in Honduras, Salvador, San Francisco, USA, Canada, and more. Once, an American journalist interviewed him, asking if he was the reason for so many deaths?

He paused for a moment and said:

"Fighting and drug dealing are the lifelong fates of the poor!"

This statement became well-known, earning him an FBI wanted notice. But at the same time, he was also an FBI informant. For the headhunters, as long as you don't cause trouble and obediently act like a dog, I'll ensure your wealth and prosperity.

So...

Edgar Santos Castro did as told.

He had backing and wasn't just some nobody.

So, when the Military Police Commander Alfred Schlieffen announced the decapitation strike and the deployment of special operations forces, within just a few minutes, also three to four minutes, the CIA had quickly relayed the information to him.

Having already placed his men, Edgar Santos Castro was highly excited, holding an assault rifle, while another underling carried a rocket launcher. In the slums, he was confident he could annihilate all the Mexicans!

Make them understand, he wasn't one of Mexico's useless people; he was the ruler of the Latin American gang scene, Barrio 18.

But as the wait dragged on and the sky grew brighter, Edgar's sense of unease intensified.

Ring ring~

The phone on the table rang abruptly, startling an already tense subordinate, who accidentally fired a bullet into the ceiling.

Furious, Edgar slapped him, glaring, "Idiot, put the safety on!"

The subordinate nodded hastily.

With a cold snort, he walked over to pick up the phone, "Hello!"

"Big brother..."

The voice on the other end belonged to his younger brother, wailing, "Save us, please save us!"

Edgar's expression changed suddenly, "Hello! Kerrick, what's going on..."

Ratatata...

BOOM!!

"Run, RPG!!!!"

The sound of gunfire erupted on the other side, followed by frantic escape cries and screams.

Edgar's grip tightened; his brother, parents, and wife were all settled in a villa, a place known by few. How could this happen?

Listening to the disconnected tone, he threw the receiver aside, "Assemble everyone, now!"

The subordinate, not understanding, still gathered the team.

Edgar led his men towards the villa, located on a beach in the far west of Salvador. It was hidden quite well. He had too many enemies—the American gangsters, MS-13, and others all wanted his family's life, so he had no choice but to hide them away.

But when he arrived with his men, the whole villa was ablaze!

It lit up the entire night.

"Ah!!!!"

Edgar roared, his eyes bloodshot as he stared at the flames, "Who did this? Who did this!"

He wobbled to his feet, grabbed a guy and pulled out his phone from the guy's pocket, shoved him aside, and dialed his contact, yelling, "Who did this, who!!!"

"We were all deceived, Edgar. Those Mexicans never went to find you, and instead..." the voice on the other end from the CIA was serious.

They were all played!

Everything said at the airport was a lie.

"Fuck! Damn it! Bastards, where's the CIA? Your intel is all bullshit, idiots!!!"

The contact on the other end was displeased, "You need to calm down..."

"Screw you, I'll kill your parents, just you wait, and then I'll calm down!" Edgar Santos Castro screamed, hanging up the phone, already furious beyond reason, "Gather everyone, it's war, war!"

"Yes, boss!"

The members of Barrio 18 were also outraged; they were always the ones to kill entire families. How could it be their turn now?

Members of Barrio 18 in San Salvador City began to assemble.

They had a shootout with a fully mobilized military unit, the latter crumbled immediately, killing over thirty people, and they fought their way towards the National Palace.

You dare call this the National Palace?

Finally, they encountered the Mexican Military Police at the famous Jade Garden intersection in the city, both sides engaged in a fierce battle, armored vehicles providing fire support from behind, while the Fire Lizard Tank charged through the hail of bullets and crushed...

The gunfire continued until five the next morning before gradually coming to an end.

When they were collecting the bodies and found someone still alive, the Mexican Military Police dragged him with an armored vehicle, across populated areas, broadcasting through speakers in Spanish: "This is the fate of gang members!"

The injured gang member was dragged until he was mutilated, making it not suitable for children.

Frightened civilians didn't dare open their windows.

The Mexican vanguard used the international airport as a temporary base, eating and drinking everything there, without relying on Salvadorans, fearing poison, so even the water was airlifted.

Casare had breakfast with President Alfredo Cristiani Burkard, who had dark circles under his eyes.

"Don't worry, Mr. President, gang members are like sponges. As long as you tighten your grip, they can't escape from your hand, but if you let go even a bit, they'll bounce back. Once the remaining Military Police arrive, the gang members will only run away. If they don't, they'll end up dead here."

"Leave the country to Alfred Schlieffen, tomorrow is General Victor's wedding. Would you like to come with me?"

The other party was also invited.

Alfredo was actually a bit afraid of retaliation now; the Mexican Military Police's methods were too strong. They killed over 600 people yesterday, and the pressure was huge, but he also understood that gangs are a cancer of the state, and without extermination, there is no future.

"Of course, and actually, I was thinking of living in Mexico for a few months, how about that?"

Casare was taken aback by this.

"What about domestic issues..."

"It's fine, there aren't too many issues back home. I want to bring the Defense Minister and Vice President to learn from Mexico's concepts."

This was really cowardly!

Your country has just been through a civil war, and the internal situation is still unstable, and you're ready to run away? Aren't you afraid the opposition will rise?

Casare was straightforward and asked this directly.

Sure enough, President Alfredo looked conflicted, with a struggling expression. He glanced at the surroundings, the closest bodyguards were more than ten meters away. He pondered for a moment and lowered his voice, "Sir, can Mexico help me?"

"What?" Fat Casare was confused.

"Help me eliminate the opposition."

"?????? Sorry, we don't interfere in the internal affairs of other nations."

"A few of the opposition's top officials are involved in drug trafficking!"

Fat Casare's face turned serious, "Global anti-drug trafficking is our mission. You provide a list, and we'll verify; as long as they are indeed trafficking drugs, we'll send them to meet Jesus. But... you'd better control the intensity, after all, they are still armed."

Alfredo's face turned as pale as a melon.

But schemes and plots began to float in his mind.

Casare quietly ate his breakfast, shaking his head inwardly. The other party was not a competent politician, too afraid of dying.

Truly worried for Salvador.

...