Working as a police officer in Mexico.

Chapter 692 I'm only doing this for your own good.

Viktor always believed that power and business acumen were the two legs of rule, and neither could be dispensed with.

One is to quietly listen to your reasoning.

One is to ensure that others are well-fed so they can listen to your reasoning with peace of mind.

Benefits + violence = compliance.

The resistance in Texas was within his expectations, or even a tactic he deliberately employed to escalate the conflict.

He needs a sufficiently significant "incident" to provide an impeccable excuse for a more thorough purge and control in the future.

Mexico City at the end of July.

Victor listened to Casare's report on the violence across Texas without showing any surprise.

"In the street fighting in San Antonio, we lost 11 men and more than 30 were wounded. The auxiliary security force (German collaborators) collapsed, almost causing a complete rout."

Casare's tone was heavy. "Boss, they're not rebelling. They're waging a people's war. Our soldiers are in the open, while they're in the shadows. Every barn, every cellar could be firing a bullet."

Viktor's fingers tapped on the table, making a dull thud. "People's war?" he scoffed. "A bunch of trash—leftists, blacks, drug dealers—do they even deserve to call themselves the people?"

"They can't endure much hardship. They have no faith, only violence. This won't last long."

He stood up and walked to the huge map of Texas.

"First, the San Antonio neighborhood where the street fighting broke out, as well as all the locations where armed attacks occurred, were subjected to the most severe 'collective punishment' measures. The army went in, searched house to house, and if any weapons were found, or any clues related to the attackers, the entire family, or even the entire block, was detained, their property confiscated, and their houses demolished."

"second."

He continued, “A supplementary decree shall be issued: Any community that voluntarily and completely surrenders its firearms within a specified period, and for which no attacks on Mexican military personnel or officials have occurred within its boundaries, shall receive priority reconstruction funding, additional food rations, fuel subsidies, tax breaks, and priority recruitment as Texas civil servants.”

Victor held up a finger. “Third, tell our Texas capital, tell Cole Brelock and Justin Harris, that their chance to shine has come. Have all the media outlets they control—newspapers, radio stations—play two things on a loop around the clock: one, clear and shocking footage of those who resist being killed, their houses being razed, and their families being taken away; two, footage of those who cooperate receiving compensation, reconstruction supplies, and beaming with joy.”

"Public opinion can produce conformity."

Victor added, "I'm organizing those exemplary mayors, councilors, and even ordinary farmers who have already cooperated to go around giving speeches and sharing their experiences to tell those who are still hesitating that putting down their guns will not only allow them to live, but also to live better. I want to use the voices of Texans to persuade Texans."

Casare quickly took notes, sweat beading on his fat face; he understood his boss's intention.

This is not simply military repression; it is a psychological and economic war aimed at completely dividing and dismantling Texas's social structure from within.

Victor walked to the window and looked at the brightly lit Mexico City. "Life is something you have to fight for. If you're on a different path, then you just have to take them down."

Stubborn fool!

The order was delivered to the Texas front as quickly as possible.

In that resistance community in San Antonio, Mexican army bulldozers and tanks actually drove in.

Gunfire rang out sporadically, but was quickly suppressed by more intense firepower.

Houses were forcibly broken down and searched amid the desperate cries of the residents, then pushed over by mechanical arms, raising clouds of dust.

The footage was broadcast on Mexican-controlled television, which provoked many people. At the same time, Fredericksburg, the first town to voluntarily surrender all its guns, received the promised reward.

Truckloads of grain, medicine, and even brand-new home appliances were delivered.

Mexican engineers began repairing roads and schools for them.

The media team from "Texas Capital" flocked to the town to film the residents "joyfully" receiving supplies, and then cross-played the footage with previous images of the ruins in San Antonio.

A beautiful female reporter, with meticulously applied makeup and a professional, friendly smile, stood in the newly renovated town square of Fredericksburg, with residents queuing to receive subsidized food and daily necessities behind her; the scene in the camera lens was one of "peace and prosperity."

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am now in Fredericksburg, a town that has chosen peace, cooperation and a future."

The reporter said to the camera, "We can see that after fully complying with the enacted Security and Reconstruction Act, life here is rapidly returning to normal, and even better than before. Let's hear what the local residents really think."

The camera pans to a middle-aged white woman carrying a cardboard box full of food. Her face shows a hint of unease, but more so a sense of relief and the joy of getting something for nothing.

“We just want a peaceful life,” she said nervously into the microphone. “It was the right thing to hand over those guns. We were too scared to go out at night before, afraid of stray bullets and robberies. Now, the army protects us, and we have these…” She weighed the box in her hand, “flour, oil, coffee, and chocolate for the kids. These things used to be expensive and hard to find. Now, everything is alright, really alright.”

Next, the reporter found a middle-aged man who ran a small gas station and grocery store. He looked quite shrewd.

"Boss, I heard that your business has benefited a lot under the new management?"

The shop owner rubbed his hands together, his face beaming with smiles, clearly happy to oblige: "That's right, that's right! Before? Before, just paying protection money to various gangs almost bankrupted me! State taxes, federal taxes, and insurance were outrageously expensive, and fuel prices changed three times a day, so I couldn't make any money at all."

At this point, he even skillfully took out two folders in front of the camera and spread them out on the counter.

One was old, with a Stars and Stripes sticker on it; the other was new, with a Mexican eagle emblem printed on it.

"Look, this is the bill from the same period last year." He pointed to the files in the old folder.

"Electricity costs, taxes, fuel purchase costs—my God, it's a complete mess! Profits are barely there! And look at it now!"

His finger tapped on the new document, and his voice rose eight octaves, “Taxes have been reduced! There are subsidies for fuel, prices are much more stable, and the power supply is more stable than before because the military protects the power plants so no one dares to sabotage them. To be honest, for someone like me who runs a small business, I will support whoever can make my living and ensure my children can go to school safely. Now I can see real benefits.”

"Some people think I'm not American."

"But all I want to say is, screw it! If it makes me money, I'm fine being an Indigenous person. Long live Mexico!"

Finally, the reporter "randomly" interviewed an elderly man who had brought his son to collect a new schoolbag and stationery.

The old man was even more excited:
"America? What has America given us? What has it given us besides endless division, arguments, exorbitant bills, and drugs and gunfights in the streets? They only know how to make empty promises. Look at us now! My grandson can safely go to his newly painted school, we can eat cheap food, Mexican soldiers patrol the streets, and we can sleep soundly at night. This is what a government should be doing! We made the right choice!"

These carefully edited interview clips, along with black-and-white high-definition images of ruins in San Antonio and other places, the dragging away of rebel bodies, and survivors being loaded onto military vehicles, were broadcast 24 hours a day on radio, television, and newspapers controlled by Harris and Brylock throughout Texas and even Mexico.

The intense visual and emotional impact washes over the nerves of every Texan again and again.

The scenes constantly shift, creating a stark and undeniable contrast:

On one side, they stubbornly resisted, but the result was the destruction of their families and the destruction of their homes.

On one hand, compliance and cooperation lead to a life of plenty and a peaceful and prosperous existence.

Viktor's intentions couldn't be clearer.

He presented all Texans with two choices in the most straightforward way: to be or not to be.

The effect is immediate and devastating.

Fear and tangible benefits began to overwhelm the impulses brought about by culture and tradition.

The most important thing is...

The US government is truly inhuman...

Anyone who understands the way of life of ordinary people in America knows that that place needs a revolution!
GC is needed!

It is necessary to satisfy the interests of the majority, rather than the extravagance of a small elite.

In some remote but not fiercely resisting villages, divisions have emerged.

Old-school white ranchers still curse and hide their guns even deeper, but their sons or hired hands might secretly dial the whistleblower hotline late at night, for the life-changing reward, or simply for the safety of their families.

A serious lack of trust has emerged within the leftist organizations. They cannot determine whether new recruits are like-minded individuals or Mexican informants, supplies have become difficult to obtain, hideouts are always at risk of being betrayed, and attacks still occur, but their frequency and effectiveness have begun to decline.

Suicide?
The liberal left, Black people, or drug cartels do not have this belief.

They don't have the guts for a battle where they risk their lives.

They were even worse than the bandits after the War of Resistance against Japan...

Cole Blelock and Justin Harris carried out Victor's orders without hesitation.

Their media outlets became the main force in the propaganda war. They even personally went out to hold events in some newly "submitted" areas, distributing gifts, promising investments, and portraying themselves as the new generation of Texas leaders who "bring peace and prosperity."

Despite the countless scornful glances and whispers of "traitors" behind their backs, the performance was indeed effective under the dual pressure of guns and money.

By mid-August, although sporadic attacks never completely ceased, especially those involving drug cartels or driven by extremist ideologies, the large-scale, organized wave of community resistance was forcefully suppressed by Viktor's combination of "carrot and stick" approach, supplemented by ruthless psychological warfare.

Mexican forces have gradually regained control of the outer areas, albeit at a high cost.

One evening in August, Victor received Casare's final report at the National Palace.

"Resistance has decreased by 70 percent, and the large-scale seizure operation is basically complete."

Casare's report was concise and forceful, but his tone still carried a hint of unease: "To date, the total number of firearms seized has reached 2986000, almost enough to arm the entire army of another country, and the ammunition..."

He turned the page as he spoke.

"We have 150 million bullets, enough to allow our soldiers to fight a high-intensity war that lasts for several years without resupply."

He looked at Viktor with a complicated expression: "This is just the beginning. The list of heavy weapons is longer than you can imagine, from the latest anti-materiel rifles to old mortars, and even twelve still-operational German 88mm anti-aircraft guns, which are hidden in the cellar of a suburban farm, next to piles of rusty but still dangerous ammunition."

"Hold!"

Victor couldn't help but swear.

"The fact that the US hasn't seen a large-scale GM so far really shows that Americans are capable of handling things."

He exhaled a smoke ring and watched the smoke slowly dissipate.

There are nearly 4 million weapons in the United States…

If this happened in a major power, they'd throw shit at you. One rifle and you'd be shouting for fairness; ten rifles and you'd dare attack an organization; a hundred rifles and you'd be ready to "seize power."

In this industry, where people are known for their fierce and tough nature, the people over there are definitely the most ruthless.

The office was filled with smoke. Just as Victor put his cigarette butt in the ashtray, the encrypted private phone on the desk suddenly rang, its sharp ring breaking the silence of the room.

Both Casare and President Lunacharsky instinctively looked at the phone, then at Viktor.

The ringing of this phone usually signifies an extremely important and urgent matter.

Victor frowned slightly and gestured for Casare to take it.

Casare picked up the receiver, listened for only one sentence, then covered the mouthpiece with his hand, turned to Victor, and lowered his voice: "Boss, it's the White House line. Bush Jr. wants to speak with you in five minutes."

Viktor nodded. "Bring him in."

Five minutes later, the phone rang right on time.

Viktor took a deep breath, picked up the receiver, and spoke in a calm tone: "This is Viktor."

A hurried voice, laced with suppressed anger and on the verge of collapse, immediately came from the other end of the phone. There was almost no small talk; it went straight to the point:
“Victor! I’ve fucking had enough of your pushing your luck! What do you think you’re doing? Playing a game of conquest?!”

“Listen, I am warning you as the President of the United States, this is not a request, it is an ultimatum: immediately cease your military operations, halt your damned process, and pull your greedy hand back from Texas! Otherwise…”

He gasped for breath, his voice suddenly rising in pitch.

"Otherwise, don't force me! Victor, don't force me to press that button! We'll die together, let the flames purify everything, you take Texas, and I'll make all of North America pay for it with you and your Mexico! I mean what I say!!!"

"I'm not kidding."

Although Casare and Lunacharsky, who were in the corner of the office, couldn't hear the specifics, they could sense that Viktor's aura had suddenly become strange.

Viktor held the receiver, his face expressionless, his brows furrowed.

He could clearly sense the hysterical despair and madness in Bush's tone.

This guy seems to have really been forced to consider activating the doomsday option?
After a few seconds of silence, the pressure on the person on the other end of the phone increased dramatically.

Victor could even picture George W. Bush in the White House Situation Room, his eyes bloodshot.

Then, Viktor spoke slowly, his voice unexpectedly calm, even carrying a strange sense of reassurance.

He used the other person's name directly: "George".
"Think about the consequences. It's not something you or I can bear, nor can the United States and Mexico. It means the end of civilization, and you will become a sinner who destroys the North American continent and the most indelible mark on the history of human civilization. Your family name will be forever nailed to the pillar of shame."

Heavy breathing came from the other end of the phone. "I can't control you. You've gone too far!"

Victor continued, his voice low, "The problems in Texas are historical issues, the result of your own escalating internal conflicts. Our intervention was at the invitation of the people of Texas, to restore order and prevent a greater humanitarian disaster. And the facts have proven that order is being restored and life is returning to normal."

“War is not the goal, George. Sitting down and talking is what politicians should do. The situation in Texas has changed, that’s a fact. But perhaps we can discuss… how to define future boundaries and relationships in a way that is more beneficial to both sides and to the people of Texas, instead of talking about destruction right now.”

"Impulse is the devil."

Viktor has regressed…

Honestly, he was asking himself if he had pushed the Americans too hard.

This is bad for everyone, so he doesn't dare to gamble.

The United States is too close to Mexico, but Mexico is also too close to the United States!
There was a long silence on the other end of the phone, with only George W. Bush's heavy, unsteady breathing audible.

Viktor waited patiently, knowing that the wildest thoughts would quickly fade away once reason suppressed them, replaced by a deep fear and powerlessness in the face of reality.

What felt like an eternity later, George W. Bush's voice came again, still hoarse, but the frenzy seemed to have subsided considerably, leaving only endless exhaustion and frustration:
"Talk! As soon as possible!"

"My Foreign Minister will contact the Secretary of State within 24 hours, and we can open new channels of communication."

Without waiting for a reply, Viktor quietly hung up the phone.

The office was silent.

Casare and Lunacharsky watched him intently.

Victor turned around and walked to the huge floor-to-ceiling window, looking out at the lights of Mexico City.

"The real contest has only just begun."

He muttered to himself, his voice revealing no fear, only calmness and anticipation.

Swallowing Texas is just the first step; the real test is how to digest it and deal with the ensuing storms.

He is confident of winning the next round.

……

(End of this chapter)