At the boundary between Jalisco and Michoacán, there are about 19 villages as part of Mexico's "Drug-infected Golden Triangle," where most of the land is used for cultivating narcotics.
Drug traffickers have very close ties with the locals!
Many rural men, uneducated and unskilled, start working for drug traffickers at a young age, growing up to become brawny murder machines, while the frail undertake the task of transportation.
In such an unstable country, do you think they have it any good?
Mexico happens to be a country with a relatively high number of HIV infections.
You'd have to grow plants for the drug traffickers.
Local governments rarely care about the villages underneath them.
But up north, under Victor's reign, it's "monarchic outreach," the disabled soldiers as village heads; if you don't obey, the National Guard will come and teach you a lesson in "mercy."
In the territories newly taken over, there'll be accusations of "collusion" before there's time to set this up.
Then, just slaughter them.
The largest Indigenous people's settlement in the border region, with over 500 inhabitants, is also a mixed bag and a drug trading hotbed.
Inside the village head's office,
Cyclops, Clarendon Spears, was reclining in his chair while two women in sheer clothing massaged him, careful not to press too hard.
Here, he was the local Emperor!
To a drug trafficker guerrilla with bandaged wounds seated beside him, he said, "Just stay here with peace of mind, it's very safe…"
No sooner had he finished speaking when, BOOM!
A single explosion knocked him from his chair, his other eye wide open with alarm, "What's that noise?"
"Artillery fire! The Northern Army is coming!" The injured man's expression turned ugly instantly, rushing to the window to look outside; he saw a group of soldiers clad in dark green military uniforms surrounding the village, interspersed with tanks and Humvees.
"Damnit! How did those dogs get such a good nose? You stay here; I'll handle this." Cyclops, Clarendon Spears, said to the injured man, then hurried outside.
The injured man couldn't hold him back.
The approach of the Northern Army was clearly hostile.
"Go get some money, a lot of it," Clarendon Spears told his underling as he adjusted his clothes, ready to run over with an ingratiating smile.
But suddenly, he stopped in his tracks.
The Northern Army's Humvee gunner pulled the bolt of his machine gun as an officer stood up, Clarendon Spears could see the mocking smile on the man's lips as he gave a wave!
Bullets from all directions rained down on the village!
He turned to run, but… bullets instantly turned him into a sieve, and as he lay on the ground, his eyes wide open, he couldn't quite believe it.
Wasn't he afraid of inciting public outrage?
The Humvee stormed into the village, the thick tires crushing Clarendon Spears' head as the 3-ton vehicle passed, bursting his skull.
The gunner on top opened fire on the villagers along the road.
It didn't matter who you were!
Anyone with the slightest connection to drugs was to be humanely eradicated!
The villagers ran in panic.
An old man stumbled and fell in the middle of the road, his mouth agape, toothless not because of old age, but because… drug abuse can cause teeth to fall out, making him appear much older.
His head made an intimate contact with the Humvee's bumper, crushed under the chassis with his clothes hooked on, dragged along until a stone caught and decapitated him when the head deformed horribly.
The hiding guerrilla witnessed this scene and ran in panic, not forgetting… to take the unfinished stack of drugs that Clarendon Spears had left behind.
Truly NMD, once an addict, always an addict!
He climbed through the window, squeezing through a dog hole clumsily, just as he was getting up, he saw a pair of boots, and upon looking up in terror, he was greeted by a Northern Army officer in a greatcoat, flanked by a few soldiers with grim expressions.
"Found you, little Rat!"
An hour later, Canterbury Village was ablaze.
At the village entrance, the decapitated head of Clarendon Spears, the local Emperor who had ruled for over a decade, was mounted on a stake, his other eye lifeless and hollow, his eyeball... stuffed into his mouth!
On the ground was written: Drug-Tainted! Death!
On that day, February 6th.
In Jalisco and Michoacán, 16 villages with nearly 3000 people were killed, wiping out all drug traffickers' foothold in the border region.
This angered the traffickers so much that they began to propagate Victor's brutality through the media, while an official from the United States at the United Nations even proposed establishing a remembrance day for February 6th.
The United Nations Drug Control Agency's Commissioner, Joachim Ribbentrop, immediately went up to the man, spewing expletives, and could not be held back by four or five people.
"If you keep making excuses for these drug traffickers, I'll fucking kill your whole family, fuck XXXX!"
As he was pulled away, Joachim Ribbentrop cursed at his opponent, while the Libyan delegate could not stand it anymore, "Aren't drug traffickers human too?"
"If you say one more word, I'll beat you too!"
Causing the man to have an extremely ugly expression.
After all, they were both intellectuals by background, Joachim Ribbentrop had been a prison warden in a certain region before Victor appointed him as commissioner of the Drug Enforcement Department; it was his decisiveness and ruthlessness that got him noticed, his policy being to strike at the slightest disagreement.