People who deal with grenades often know that grenades come in defensive and offensive types.
But it's all bullshit, you throw them, and no matter what kind they are, they all die!
An F-1 defensive grenade with 60 grams of TNT - even if a devil with horns comes, it will blow everyone to pieces.
Although it's a World War II weapon, but a grenade is a grenade.
Victor, ducking down, came to the edge of the van, raised his head and looked at the half-open window.
Breaking off the fuse ring, he tossed the grenade inside in a reverse motion.
It fell to the floor, emitting a clear ringing sound, and Baird and Mil turned to look.
An oval, turd-like object was rolling across the floor.
Haggis Mil, who had plenty of experience, reacted first - hugged his head and curled up in a ball, covering his ass.
Reducing the kill zone increases the chances of survival.
Anyone who has used grenades knows that the probability of killing someone immediately is small, but the fragments that explode are capable of rupturing internal organs.
There is no salvation.
Jesus Christ would have been hospitalized.
But, uh.
To be sure, Victor, after waiting a while after the first grenade, threw a second grenade inside!
Double insurance.
Boom!
Smoke billowed from the windows of the van. The explosion was muffled, but it sounded loud in the silence of the night.
Casares, who had been having fun with the woman at the time, jumped up like a stung man, fearfully grabbing at his clothes and leaping out of the tent like a startled elephant.
All around were the same old customers.
Shameless, they were all naked.
They looked each other over, with terror in their eyes.
- What had happened? Why the explosion?
- How do I know? I was "fighting" here, and that explosion scared me. Stop standing there and scatter.
It is not known who shouted, but people rushed out in a panic, some without even paying for their services.
Experienced Mexicans knew one rule: don't show curiosity or the whole family will be in mourning.
But Casares, glancing at that corner, mouth ajar, remembered....
Victor had just gone there!
...
Victor had been brave. After throwing the grenade, he didn't run immediately, but stood by the door, listening to the moans and screams from inside.
He kicked the blasted door and entered. Baird was rolling on the floor, bleeding, and Mil, unlucky for him, clutching his throat, wide-eyed, was already dead.
Seeing the shadow, Baird instinctively reached out his hand, begging for help, making sounds like the noise of a hair dryer: Help! Help!
- Don't you know to say "please"? - Victor asked.
Hearing the familiar voice and seeing the increasingly clear face, Baird gasped excitedly, his chest heaving violently.
- Don't rush, don't rush.
Victor crouched down next to him, smiling, said:
- It's hard, isn't it? It's nothing, I'll help you.
Looking around, he saw a fire extinguisher on the floor. He picked it up and waved it in front of Baird's face, as if to say goodbye, and then hit him hard on the head.
Whose bone is stronger than the fire extinguisher?
Baird's skull: 0. Fire extinguisher: 1.
After a few blows, Baird's brains exploded.
Seeing the mangled face, Victor dropped the fire extinguisher, lit a cigarette, and stuck it in Baird's already shattered mouth.
But the mouth was so shattered that he couldn't hold on to the cigarette.
After trying a couple times, Victor got angry and hit the extinguisher again, finally cracking his head open.
- Fucking hell, he didn't even let him smoke a cigarette, you fucking bastard.
Cursing, he ran away, already hearing footsteps approaching.
The night was dark, if he wasn't caught right away, it would be easy to escape.
A couple minutes later, as Victor fled, dozens of armed men came running to the scene. It was obvious from the tattoos on their arms that they were from the same gang.
Leading the way was a bald man with a scar on his forehead. Seeing the bodies on the floor, his face darkened. Someone dared to cause a riot on his property? He's out of his fucking mind!
- Boss, something's happened, I think it's Haggis Meal," one of his subordinates shouted.
The bald man froze, as if remembering something, and hurried over to the body. Seeing the familiar face on the floor, his expression became as if he was suffering from constipation.
He knew Hagiss Mil too well. The territory of Mexico City used to belong to the Guadalajara Cartel.
But after the destruction of a 1,000-hectare plantation, one of the three leaders, Quintero, couldn't swallow that grudge.
At the time, Gallardo had already arranged business with Pablo of Colombia, and the money could have been easily recovered.
But on February 7, 1985, Quintero ordered his men to kidnap DEA (DEA) agent Camarena in front of everyone.
Forensics showed that he was subjected to 30 hours of brutal torture, injected with adrenaline to keep him awake.
Camarena's brutal death forced the DEA to launch its largest investigation ever.
When the case became high-profile, Quintero, along with his girlfriend Sara, fled. Her father was Mexico's minister of education.
Godfather Gallardo turned Quintero and Don Neto over to authorities to save himself, continuing to run the cartel and share the proceeds with officials.
Quintero received a 40-year prison sentence.
But since there is no extradition treaty, the Americans didn't agree.
To provide an explanation to their collaborators, they launched Operation Legend, sending agents and bounty hunters to Mexico to kidnap the six participants in the Camarena murder and try them in the U.S., putting pressure on Mexican authorities.
As a result, Gallardo was abandoned by his protector, Defense Minister Barrera, and the Guadalajara cartel collapsed in 1989.
Mexico City was not quiet during this interval.
The Sinaloa, led by Palma, and the Gulf Cartel, led by the Abrego family, were at war.
There were many cruel and treacherous men among them, and Haggis Mil, known as "The Family Dog," stood out.
He led the Gulf Cartel gunmen in an attack on the masquerade party of the younger brother of Sinaloa's second-in-command, Guzman, killing 17 people.
Among them were Guzmán's brother's mistress and four of his illegitimate children.
His reputation was enhanced!
The Sinaloa cartel put a bounty of 150,000 pesos on his head!
Such a "hot" man died here-the unpredictability of life.
But the bald man saw this as an opportunity. His eyes shone with a green light looking at the body of Hagiss Mila.
150,000 pesos! Moreover, this is an opportunity to contact the Sinaloa Cartel. Even if one has to face retribution from the Gulf Cartel and the Haggis family, who the hell is afraid?
Money, money, money! The cowards are long ago either dead in the streets or emigrated.
- Who's this one? - The bald man asked, pointing to Baird's body.
The subordinates looked at him from all sides, but shook their heads: "You can't recognize him, he's all smashed up.
- Don't waste it, take everyone, we'll go to the Sinaloa Cartel tonight.
The subordinates looked at each other, hesitating a bit.
Baldy, noticing their hesitation, said:
- "We were on duty today, and Haggis Mill died here. Do you think we'll be thrown to the wolves?
- Well...
- The boss isn't likely to allow it," muttered one of the subordinates, but then even he fell silent.
Survival in Mexican small gangs has always depended on having a strong backing from the big cartel. If you have a roof, you can still live, if not, you're just expendable.
- Stop hesitating. Anyone who wants out, come with me. We'll split the bounty on Milah's head amongst ourselves. Those who don't want to go are on their own," the bald man said, frowning as he looked at his subordinates.
Eventually, they all followed him. Apparently, the appeal of the reward outweighed the authority of the boss.
All the gawkers scattered, who else would venture out to check what had happened?
No need to pry if it's none of your business, unless of course you just want someone to play constructor with you.
...
Victor made his way in the dark towards the prison where their barracks were located, meeting many coworkers on the way, unhappy with the disrupted evening.
As he walked across the bridge, he caught on something and looked down to see a stone left behind by who knows who.
- Victor," a quiet voice called out to him in the darkness, making Victor tense up. Seeing Casares approaching, he relaxed.
- Casares, do you know that you can scare a man to death coming out of the darkness? - Victor asked with a frown.
The full man stepped closer, looking him over from head to toe.
- Are you all right?
Such a question took Victor by surprise, anxiety rising inside him, but he quickly calmed down and, looking at Casares, answered:
- You mean the explosion? Scared me, I was about to take a leak when I heard the explosion and hid. And how are you? I heard you can become impotent when you're scared," he jokingly reached for Kasares' groin, who pulled back.
- I'm fine," he waved him away, averting his gaze. - The important thing is that you're okay.
But suspicion flashed in his eyes as he smelled the blood coming from Victor.
This clearly wasn't as easy as Victor had told him.
Casares was no fool. There are no real fools in this world, it's just that everyone looks at it differently.
You shouldn't think you're the smartest.
Victor, walking behind, squinted. His intuition told him that Casares suspected him.
And his intuition had always been right.
Looking at the back of Casares' head, Victor felt the impulse to walk over and bash his head in.
Killing a coworker, especially one from a crime family, even with the slightest suspicion, would invite violent retribution from those cursed by these drug traffickers.
Victor was not a man to entrust his fate to others.
Casares walked ahead, feeling painful pricks in the back of his neck as if someone was looking at him with hatred.
In the end. Victor decided not to attack. After all, the watchmen on the wall could already see the gates of the prison.