Chapter 205 Victor Followers?

Chapter 205 Victor... Believer?

Santa Fe Bogota, Cabrera District.

This is a luxurious area for the rich.

High-ranking officials, wealthy celebrities, and even many drug dealers have villas here.

The famous Colombian drug lord Gonzalo Rodríguez Gacha once lived here. His nickname was "Mexican". He was in charge of the militia branch under the Medellin Group and was the confidant of the confidants.

Well...

That was last year, on December 15, 1989, he was shot dead.

What does this mean?

Being a dog for Pablo, you will die quickly.

Colombian Security Minister Carlos Yelas Restrepo, who is now about 60 years old, wears reading glasses and is wiping a Winchester Defender 1300 shotgun carefully, with bullets standing next to it.

He had a "verbal" conflict with Pablo, sent soldiers to impose a full curfew, and tried to maintain order on the surface.

But...

A ridiculous scene appeared. After the 76th Brigade Commander Major General Isaac Asimov was killed, the parliament immediately put all the responsibility on him, directly deprived him of his position as Minister of Security, and removed all his bodyguards outside.

This is simply groundless.

Has the Colombian government army been weak in combat effectiveness for a day or two?

When has it ever been tough?

But Restrepo smelled the smell of conspiracy.

When he returned home, he dispersed all the servants in the house, and asked his son's family to leave Colombia and go to Tijuana, Mexico to join Victor!

He was very sober. He understood that only the "kill, kill, kill" model could completely eradicate drug dealers. In the United States, if you have no money, people will not protect you. Moreover, there are many local gangs, drug dealer associations, and black criminal organizations in the United States. If you take money to do things, you may be killed tomorrow.

In Tijuana…

Victor stared at Mexico!

Himself?

Have you ever seen the Minister of Security running away!

CNMD!

Behind Restrepo, there was a photo of him when he was young, about 21 years old, wearing a military uniform, with his eyes revealing his vision for the future.

Dongdongdong~

The knock on the door suddenly came.

Restrepo paused, his breathing stopped, and his turbid eyes flashed with brilliance.

He swung the Winchester Defender 1300 shotgun and stared at the door. The knock on the door suddenly quieted down, but it was more like a kind of depression before the storm!

peng!

peng!

Sure enough, after a few seconds, someone outside the door suddenly kicked hard, very hard.

CNMD!

Mr. Restrepo cursed in a low voice. Colombians have a bad temper, and they are wild even in the uncivilized Latin American region.

The three well-known categories are the Indians in estrus, the drunken bears, and... the reckless men in the Silver Triangle.

He rushed over and pulled the trigger decisively at the door!

12-gauge shotgun bullets.

Hmm...

The door was shot straight through, and the people outside were also affected. After this shot, he held his abdomen and wailed outside, but he was still very moral. He did not forget to shout to others outside after being shot.

"Avoid!"

Restrepo wanted to kill you while you were sick, but he did not forget to go back to the dining table and put the lit cigar back in his mouth.

Colombians!

Romantic.

He rushed out of the room with a shotgun, and his courage scared the gunman outside.

"Pablo, that bastard, is he worthy of taking my life?!"

"Where are the others?!!"

The minister pulled the cover and fired a shot at the unlucky guy who didn't react, poof!

A close-range shotgun is a "brain-making machine". It doesn't make a sound when it hits someone. If someone makes a second sound, it's definitely a ghost.

The other gunmen hurriedly hid behind the car, and they couldn't even lift their heads after being hit.

But after all, there were only seven rounds of ammunition.

Just shoot and that's it!

Restrepo subconsciously continued to press the trigger, but the only feedback was the sound of the empty chamber. His heart sank, and he looked up and saw the gunman standing up and emptying the magazine at him.

Bang, bang, bang!

At least more than 20 bullets hit him, and even the gym students had to shake their heads when they saw it.

The body fell heavily!

He actually opened his eyes.

The sky in Colombia is so beautiful!

So tired!

Finally I can have a good rest...

"Cut off his head! Mr. Pablo said to throw his head to the government building!"

The dignified Colombian Minister of Security, although he only has the word "former", died so pathetically!

For example, many security ministers in Mexico would fly to the United States overnight after retirement or resignation. In addition to enjoying life, the most important thing is to avoid being "hunted down" by drug dealers.

You are useless!

What else is there to keep it for?

Professional ethics?

Drug dealers have no moral bottom line.

The gunmen were obviously veterans. They rushed into the city hall with Restrepo's head in their hands and honked their horns at the guards outside.

When the government troops saw the words "North American Drug Association" written on the other side's car, they didn't dare to say anything and looked at each other.

"Hey!"

The drug dealer in the passenger seat stuck his head out and whistled arrogantly. When all the soldiers and police looked over, he threw Restrepo's head on the ground. There was not even a bag wrapped around it!

So NMD stingy!

The head rolled to the middle of the road... shocking everyone.

"From now on!"

"The daytime in Colombia belongs to us too!"

………

Tijuana, Mexico.

There were crowds of people outside the newly opened "Anti-Drug Education Exhibition Hall".

This was built after renovating a local museum. The outer wall is a depressing gray. When you walk in, you can see a sentence written by Victor at the door.

"We, protect the blue!"

In order to change the three views of the next generation, Victor forced the schools, factories and government departments under his jurisdiction to visit. Others are voluntary and the tickets are free.

How can such a museum with profound educational significance charge money?

It fell into PYZ.

Victor spent a lot of money to change the three views of the next generation.

When the museum was open, more than 20,000 people came to visit every day, and even began to limit the number of people.

However, there are always some people who don't have to queue.

For example...

There are 32 members of the "Victor Sect" from the United States, all of whom are white or some Asian faces.

Uh...

Sometimes I have to sigh, Nigo, this creature, should probably have... good people.

Anyway, they are not very keen on this kind of "justice" cause, and they care more about zero-dollar purchases.

Bah!

Victor provides food, clothing, housing and transportation for the members of the "Victor Sect". He also wants to use this group to expand his influence in the United States.

A blonde, blue-eyed, big... big... female commentator introduced the exhibits to them.

"This is a golden human skull found in the Tijuana drug cartel. According to DNA technology, this skull came from a drug enforcement officer. After he died, the drug dealers brutally dismembered him and coated his skull with a layer of gold foil as a trophy."

"Under the leadership of Mr. Victor, we defeated this evil organization and contacted a teacher before he went to school. From his mouth, we learned that after he died, his family also suffered revenge from drug dealers. All..." The female commentator said to the end, still crying.

This is definitely taught by Victor.

It's too fake!

However, some people really buy into this. At least a few young white guys are listening very seriously.

"Mr. Victor left this here to let people remember this spirit and this policeman who dedicated himself to Mexico, everyone!"

"Sacrifice is not terrible, what is terrible is forgetfulness!"

"Mr. Victor does not allow heroes to bleed and cry."

Pa pa pa!

As soon as he finished speaking, the people around him began to applaud.

"Long live Mr. Victor!"

I don't know who shouted, and then the voices suddenly rose and fell, and the whole hall was filled with long live shouts?

The people of the "Victor Sect" looked at each other and felt a little restrained.

But in the end, they also integrated into it.

Not far away, "coincidentally" a reporter passed by and took a picture of this scene.

There was a work permit hanging around his neck.

"Mexican News Department!"

...