"Tyrant! Tyrant! Tyrant!"
The streets of Hermosillo were filled with gathering crowds.
They were pulling banners in their hands and shouting loudly through megaphones.
Among them, one could see many shady figures.
Rumors had gone around that Victor "passed away," blown to bits.
Fuck!! Serves him right!!!
When they heard of his death, numerous rats hidden in the sewers scurried up because the Governor's Mansion had no designated successor, and power was now completely void. They believed they could overthrow this tyrant.
How good was the old way?
Drug traffickers trafficked drugs, the impoverished joined drug traffickers, merchants could move up and stock up, nobody starved to death. Unlike now, making money meant going into factories.
What real Mexicans aspire to is freedom, what they long for is a spiritual world.
"Victor! You dog bastard, doing everything backwards..." A bunch of spirited youths leaned on each other, wearing cyberpunk-style black jackets. A few girls had pieces of silver in their noses, ears, and even in their belly buttons, heavily influenced by the American "Beatles" style.
A man with dark circles around his eyes and a cock's comb haircut, who also had lip piercings, was pouring gasoline over Victor's portrait. With a flick of his lighter, WHOOM!
The portrait was instantly ignited, and the crowd beside it cheered.
Even the Victor Statue on "Emosillo Square" had been toppled over, with people urinating on top of it!
Over three hundred thousand people in the city, at the very least one-sixth of them were rioting in the streets, engaging in gratuitous shopping at the stores on either side of the streets.
"Get out! Get out! Don't come over here, I'll chop you to death!" A middle-aged, overweight store owner was swinging a cleaver, his face beet red but still looking very nervous, his hands sweaty, desperately protecting his wife and child behind him. That child was still very young, his eyes filled with fear.
The rioters standing at the doorway laughed and pointed.
A Molotov cocktail was thrown over, hitting the middle-aged man directly, and he was visibly ablaze in seconds. The fire contained rubber and clung to the body, impossible to extinguish.
While the man screamed in agony rolling on the ground, his wife and child cried out, desperately patting the flames. But these bloodthirsty rioters + drug traffickers stormed the shop. One of them kicked the child, who fell to the ground with ribs piercing into the lungs, clearly not going to survive.
"Aaah!" And the woman was dragged away by several men, struggling on the ground, crying out until she was hoarse!
The night was accompanied by inhuman laughter and painful screams.
On the most crowded "Benito Pablo Juarez Garcia" avenue, with hundreds and thousands of people shouting protest slogans as they burned flags.
In front of them, an elderly man sitting in a wheelchair, with white hair, tremblingly held up a portrait of Victor.
Behind him, a woman shakily supported the wheelchair, her eyes frantic, yet she still stood there.
"Are you scared, Dana?"
The old man in the wheelchair spoke calmly, "Don't be scared, I come from a decrepit Mexico, I've seen decay, old age, despair, but when Mr. Victor came, I saw the dawn!"
His tone became excited immediately, "The life we have now, I won't allow anyone to destroy it, long live Mexico, long live Victor!!!"
The old man used all his strength to wave the flag in his hand, singing songs in praise of Victor loudly amidst the mocking of the monsters and demons opposite him.
The woman behind him was deeply moved; she thought of her daughter tormented by drugs, her husband who was beaten to death by drug traffickers while selling vegetables on the street, her son who was killed by a drug trafficker's second generation while going to school.
She was in despair then!
She thought that was it for her life.
His soldiers arrested drug traffickers en masse, those drug traffickers, once seen as omnipotent, were brought low. The one who shot and killed her husband was dragged to death by an off-road vehicle, the drug trafficker's second generation who killed her son, 17 members of his family, were all crushed to death by Victor's armored vehicle!
Before they died, that look of despair... just like her own past.
And to ensure they all had food to eat, the woman was arranged to care for the elderly, her salary paid by the Governor's Mansion, and hope returned to her life.
But the people before her not only lacked gratitude, they were destroying this hard-won life. She was afraid but also indignant, waving her fists, singing loudly.
The rioters on the opposite side rushed towards the lonely pair, and soon the flood of people engulfed them, the figure in the wheelchair disappearing.
"Boom! Mr. Mayor, aren't you going to deploy troops to suppress this? Hermosillo has already descended into chaos!" Hermosillo Police Director Svet demanded loudly!
He was a former member of the "Pescador mexicano" (Mexican Fisherman) organization, the squad that caught the Sky King "Armando," and later became the head of a police district after Victor settled in Tijuana. (Chapter 150)
Because he stood out in the anti-gang crackdowns, he soon rose to become the Police Director of the capital of Sonora State!
Leo de los Santos, sitting behind the office desk, sipped his coffee calmly, lifting his head with a frown and a bit of anger. In times gone by, what police director would dare to shout at him ?
He would have taken you down directly.
But after Victor took office, all heads of the armed forces including the police department had to be approved, vetted, and confirmed by the Governor's Mansion. The mayor? Now just a puppet!