Mexico City, Chimalhuacan.
There was heavy rock music playing in one of the warehouses, and it sounded like some famous performer:
"Money, money, money, money, spend it all like it's fun, take me to the dance floor..."
Holder walked in and frowned, pointing at a young guy who was fiddling with the speakers," Andrea, turn that idiot off.
But the guy, who was swaying to the beat of the music, paid no attention to him.
Bang!
Ryan raised his gun and shot the speaker, which fell to the floor, but despite that, continued to play.
Andrea was startled and raised his hands, but before he could express his displeasure, Ryan punched him with his fist and he fell to the ground.
Ryan piled on top of him, grabbed him by the throat and hissed: - Motherfucker, you think this is a daycare center or a bar?
With his left hand he shoved Andrea's gun in his mouth and, looking him straight in the eye, asked: - Did your momma ever tell you to respect others? I'm going to blow a hole in your stupid head right now!
Andrea raised his hands, finally afraid.
Ryan stood up, kicking him with his foot: -Stand up and come over here, everyone over here, now!
The people who had been watching the scene before hurriedly stood up in formation.
There were thirteen men in all, all of whom were "children" of Chimalhuacan, most of whom were experienced criminals and had even seen blood.
In Mexico, there is only one path for young men.
Children of rich families join the family business - the drug trade.
Children of poor families join other families' business - also drug dealing.
It all comes down to crime. How many famous Mexican scientists do you know?
Ryan wore brown combat pants, with a Makarov on his belt.
He stood up and said, -I don't care what gang you came from or who your boss was. You are all members of the New Mexican Generation now.
- If anyone wants to leave, speak up now, but if I catch anyone betraying me, I'll bury them!
Looking into the eyes of everyone present, Ryan looked intimidating with his imposing physique.
- Is there anyone who wants to leave?
He repeated this several times, but no one stepped forward.
- Great," Ryan nodded satisfied and beckoned to Holder.
He pulled a puffy envelope out of his pocket and tossed it on the table next to him. Several bills fell out, catching everyone's attention.
- Six hundred pesos each. We're not like other organizations, we have salaries paid strictly on the first of each month. If you join in the middle or end of the month, your paycheck will be paid the following month.
- For each outing we pay 200 pesos, for injury we add 500 pesos, and in case of death we pay 500 US dollars.
The new members of the group began to whisper among themselves.
Such terms... It was very attractive.
These 13 people were not important figures in their previous organizations and earned little. Have you ever seen junior gang members who got rich?
The Gulf Cartel paid farmers 6 pesos, which was about $3 US dollars in the 80's - it was a good wage.
Drug traffickers were paid per voyage, depending on the danger of the cargo, but if they were caught, they and their families faced death.
The highest paychecks went to gunmen who seized territory, kidnapped leaders, and engaged in other violent acts.
In 2019, an American blogger contacted a drug trafficker via the internet and met a gunman who said he was earning about 18,500 pesos.
With current inflation and a 17:1 exchange rate, that was about $1,500 US dollars - not a bad salary even for the US.
So 600 pesos in the 80s was a great deal.
- Boss! - Shouted Andrea, one of the more animated young men, with burning eyes. - Can I call my brothers?
- Yes, I have a brother, he's 11 years old, he's as tall as me," someone else supported him.
Someone even wanted to bring his retired father.
- Silence! - Ryan frowned and shouted, silencing everyone. - Come up one by one for the money, Andrea, you start.
Andrea walked up to the table, bowed and said, -Boss.
Holder counted out six hundred peso bills and handed them to him.
Andrea took the money, counted it and was about to leave when he was called. Holder pulled a gun from a box under the table and tossed it on the table in front of Andrea.
- This is yours.
A genuine Makarov, made at the Izhevsk Machine Building Plant.
- We're getting guns too? - Andrea blinked.
- 'We're a violent organization, not a daycare center, we don't give pacifiers instead of guns,' Ryan said irritably.
- 'It's part of our benefits. All members of Mexico's New Generation get a gun. I will select four seniors among you who will also receive submachine guns and grenades.
It seems this organization was more wealthy and generous than expected.
When you enter the underworld, you hope to find a generous boss, right?
Andrea was even more pleased when he received the weapon, and began jokingly pointing the gun at his comrades.
Ryan immediately kicked him: -Don't point your gun at your own! If you do that again, I'll break your fingers!
The frightened Andrea stepped back, holding his gun.
When everyone had received their paychecks, Holder nodded to Ryan, who stepped forward and said: "Now every day you will come here and train with me. If anyone is late or doesn't show up without a good reason, don't complain about my cruelty.
- Now everyone take your weapons and follow me. - Ryan led them into the courtyard, and Holder sat down in a chair with a cigarette in his hand without saying a word.
He didn't know how to train people, so he'd left it to Ryan, an army veteran. He himself was in charge of organizing and making money.
While making money, he was going to upgrade his equipment.
Recently, an old coworker contacted him offering a shipment of goods, and that got him interested.
...
Ana's death caused only a small ripple in the Altiplano prison, a few acquaintances felt sorry for her, but there was no particular uproar.
In Mexico, death was normal, even the president could get a Nobel Peace Prize.
Victor stayed quietly in the observation room for two or three days, coming and going on time. Gallardo, like a wounded wolf, sat in the corner, lonely and withdrawn.
He didn't even call out for women.
Victor poured himself a cup of instant Nescafé coffee and went to the window, where he could see the third block, where the prisoners were walking around.
There were groups of people there, and you could even see a guard handing out cigarettes.
He noticed that one man with tattoos on his face ripped the cap off the guard and threw it, causing the people around him to laugh.
Victor raised his cup of coffee to his lips and saw a fight break out in the corner and the guard trying to break them up...
But he was being beaten?
The figure seemed familiar. The guard whistled, and Victor saw that it was Casares.
Two groups of men gathered around him, and soon there were dozens of people in place. The siren rang out.
Victor looked at Casares, raised his eyebrows, and said, -It's too bitter, you need to add sugar.
- I'll be out for a while," he said to the guard watching. Taking his cap from his desk, he walked out of the office.
He was a defense attorney, and he couldn't tolerate situations like this.
In prison, you had to punish people like this so they knew who was in charge.
Casares held his face. The blow was hard, and he felt dizzy. Colleagues helped him move away from the scene of the fight.
It was lucky that after the "soccer" incident there had been a purge and the weapons had been confiscated, otherwise there might have been a shooting now.
The siren was ringing and the Rapid Response Squad had gotten the situation under control, but the Mexican drug dealers were defiant, and they may have just vented all their rage this time, dragging the guards into the fight.
The Rapid Response Squad couldn't shoot, even Haggis didn't have that kind of power when he was alive. There were many people with powerful connections among the fighting men, and if they were injured, there would be serious consequences.
- Since when did police officers watch criminals fight in prison?
Casares heard a voice and turned around, seeing Victor. Holding his face, he said:- Victor.
- If they don't obey, beat them to death!
Victor pulled out his gun and fired several shots into the air. The two groups immediately stopped and looked at him.
But in the next second they started fighting again.
Victor grinned, -I've always liked the unruly.
He picked one of the fighting men and knocked him down, then shot him three times in the leg.
- I'll count to three, and have everyone on their knees with their hands behind their heads!
He pointed the gun at the group of fighting men.