Working as a police officer in Mexico

August 13, 1990, American Time.

Mexico City. Outside the Senate.

The senators, carrying briefcases, greeted each other and inquired about the content of the meeting as they walked toward the building in groups.

No one wanted to give up their power, even if Cuauhtémoc was a puppet, he was still a puppet with influence.

"Victor, no matter what you do, just don't mess with his interests."

With the President's arrow shot, a mighty host appeared to meet the call.

Senators from neighboring states hurried over eagerly.

The Speaker of the Senate, seated above, glanced at Cuauhtémoc below, who was wearing glasses and looking down, flipping through the documents in front of him.

He then took in the sight of the senators who were settling in their seats, whispering to one another like a bustling marketplace.

"Quiet!"

He knocked on the table above, and the senators below instantly sat up straight, their chatter stopping at once.

"Today we only have one item on the agenda, the proposal to nominate Director Victor for the position of Governor of the Northern Mexican Province, put forward by Cuauhtémoc," the Speaker announced, pausing deliberately to give people a moment to "buffer."

As expected, confusion spread among those below.

But quickly after, many faces turned unsightly.

They weren't fools; of course, they could smell something fishy in the name.

"Impossible! This is history in reverse! I do not agree!" The senator in the very middle stood up and protested loudly, his companions next to him were so frightened that they hurriedly pulled at him, their faces turning pale.

Cool it, big brother!

Don't be the one to stick your neck out.

Didn't you see that no one else stood up?

Cuauhtémoc glanced at his party colleagues nearby, and a "Little Whirlwind" jumped up, "I agree!"

"Mr. Victor has sacrificed a lot for the Mexican people and deserves more respect. A reversal of civilization? No! I happen to think Mexico needs such a leader, and he should take on greater responsibilities," the supporter argued.

Many from the Mexican Workers' Party around him stood up in agreement.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

It was well known their party leader had close ties with Mr. Victor, and if nothing unexpected happened, there wouldn't be any change for the next couple of decades.

The other side was too young, and sometimes, being young is an asset in itself. Enjoy exclusive chapters from empire

Didn't Sima Yi outlive many of his rivals just by surviving?

The heir to the British throne has been waiting for decades and is still persevering.

"Bullshit!" The first senator to oppose threw off his shoe and hurled it directly, inadvertently hitting Cuauhtémoc.

Everyone was stunned.

Even Cuauhtémoc was stunned.

"Ramirez, damn you!" Little Whirlwind leapt up. How dare you hit my boss?

He grabbed the shoe and threw it back.

The protestor, red-eyed, rushed into the fray, and even if a dog was in the way, it would get slapped. After all, Mexico was a multi-party state. They had supported Cuauhtémoc's rise to power due to political needs, not to make him arrogant.

Wow...

Some people fought back.

That's when the brawl started.

"Stop fighting! Stop! Damn it!"

A group began to scuffle, pulling hair, grabbing groins, and even spitting—any dirty trick was fair game, regardless of one's status during a fight.

"Quiet! Quiet!"

The Speaker pounded the gavel forcefully, so much so that the gavelhead broke off and flew away.

"Security! Security!" he quickly signaled to the "Rookie" Carlos outside.

"Boss, the Speaker is calling us," a guard whispered to him.

"Go in there, target the opposition to Mr. Victor first, give them a beating, and then separate them," Carlos said in a low voice.

The guards nodded, rushing in like wolves.

"Stop hitting! Stop!" Carlos zeroed in on the senator who protested first, shouting as he did so, but sneakily landed a punch that was hidden and yet painful.

"Ow!" The victim screamed, clutching his groin and kneeling on the floor, his complexion turning beet red as he pounded the ground in agony.

"Drag away those fighting," Cuauhtémoc ordered as he stood up.

Carlos nodded and dragged away all the opposing members.

"Why not drag them? They fought too!" A resisting member complained, pointing at the Workers' Party, "Unfair! Unfair!"

"You are welcome to file a complaint against me, sir, in Tijuana. My police officer number is 97121, my name is Carlos. If you resist any further, I can't guarantee I won't use force. Please cooperate with us," Carlos responded.

The man could do nothing but rage impotently, not heeding the words and shouting loudly.

After Carlos dragged him out, he ordered his team, "Take him outside and beat him up, remember to put a sack over his head to avoid leaving fingerprints."

Several grimacing officers eyed the man as they dragged him into an adjacent room.

"Gentlemen, please maintain basic respect. This is not a battlefield. If any of you have excess energy, I would be happy to write to Mr. Victor informing him that you are willing to go to the front lines," Cuauhtémoc said sternly, facing everyone. No one dared to meet his gaze, their eyes flickering restlessly. He looked up at the Speaker, "Let's start over."

After sitting down, he nodded to Little Whirlwind, who had been beaten black and blue, "Well done."

The man smiled with delight, wincing as he touched a wound on his face.

But it was worth it.

He was bound to rise through the ranks.

The Speaker straightened his clothes and addressed the audience, "We shall now restart the topic, please vote."