On the rugged mountain road.
A convoy of a dozen vehicles was driving, winding along the mountain.
The windows were open, and a comfortable breeze blew through.
Victor, with a cigarette in his mouth, stretched out his hand and, looking at Casare beside him, said with a smile,
"Politics is a bunch of people dividing interests at a table, violence is flipping the table over! Violence is never loyal to politics."
"Do you know why I'm seeking Cuauhtémoc?"
Casare shook his head.
"If I can't beat them, I play politics, but if I can… I make them 'speak the caliber'!"
Victor took a casual draw on his cigarette, then snuffed it out on the car door and threw it away carelessly.
Brother, don't bring any sources of fire up the mountain!
Set a fire, and you'll be seated in prison for life.
