During wartime, what's wrong with killing a few people?
"Apart from this, there's another important point: the Soviet Union is dead, but those who cherish the spirit of the Soviet Union are still alive. Do you understand? We stand up to tell those people—come to Mexico, fight with us, for the Utopian dream!"
Victor wants to carry on the legacy of the Soviet Union.
After all, there are still too many loyalists to the Soviet Union during such times. Akhromeyev sacrificed himself for the nation. What he saw were wolf-like ambitions, the despair of the country.
But he is not an individual—he represents a collective.
This light, burning for decades, has dimmed...
Victor will lift the torch high before it completely burns out. No matter how long the darkness lasts, the light remains.
What does this mean? A righteous cause! I also want a share of the Soviet Union's political legacy.
After all, Victor has criticized the United States countless times.
If anyone has the toughest stance against U.S. policies, it should be him.
"So… how much time will it take, boss?"
Victor chuckled, "Don't rush, let the bullets fly for a while longer."
Chiapas State. Tuxtla-Gutierrez.
The Gulf Group took control of the place and imposed air traffic restrictions.
Airlines are sometimes quite pitiful…
Facing sudden incidents, they can only suspend flights. They can't just barge through, can they? If someone shoots them down, then they'll have something to cry over.
And how many people had their plans disrupted because of this is another matter.
Georgia stepped off the plane, leaning on a cane. Standing at the cabin door, he took a breath of fresh air. When his bodyguard offered to assist him, he pushed them away.
"Niang Songxi, come help me."
The Thai woman standing behind froze. When everyone turned to look at her, she shrank her neck like an awkward, clueless girl-next-door.
It was only after Georgia urged her a second time that she came forward to support him as he slowly stepped down.
The Gulf Group senior officials below all bowed and shouted in unison.
The drug lord aura was unmistakable...
Such arrogance—Victor would definitely kill them!
Selling drugs, yet so brazen.
"Boss, Arturo Desena wants to talk to you on the phone," a close confidant said.
Georgia surveyed everyone in front of him. He knew that among them, there must be spies from Los Zetas; otherwise, how could the enemy know his whereabouts?
A ruthless glint flashed in his eye.
He extended his hand to take the phone.
Neither side spoke, yet they could both hear each other's breathing.
Finally, Arturo Desena let out a sigh from the other end, "Georgia, I know you won't believe whatever I say. How about this—let's meet face-to-face and talk."
"Where? Yucatan Peninsula?" The Gulf Group boss sneered.
"Head to nearby Guatemala City. After we meet, we can have a proper discussion."
"I have no reason to trust you, Arturo."
"The Spanish intelligence agency, the Indian Intelligence Bureau, the South Korean intelligence division—they'll all vouch for me. If you don't believe me, you can bring your own men. I only want to explain something to you—this wasn't my doing…"
"Alright, then come to Quetzaltenango in Guatemala. Let's meet tonight. If you come, everything will be negotiable. If not, then I will have a reason to kill you!" Georgia picked the meeting spot himself.
On the other side, Arturo Desena's eyebrows twitched. He responded in a serious tone, "Okay, tonight. I hope we can have a constructive talk—after all, no one wants internal conflict in the South."
Georgia snorted coldly and hung up.
Arturo Desena's face darkened...
That damned dog—he's finally learned to play smart!