Working as a police officer in Mexico-Chapter 740 - 414 If You Won’t Maintain Your Dignity, Someone Else Will Do It for You!

740: Chapter 414: If You Won’t Maintain Your Dignity, Someone Else Will Do It for You!

(7K)

740: Chapter 414: If You Won’t Maintain Your Dignity, Someone Else Will Do It for You!

(7K)

“Whoo-whoo-whoo~”

Northern Lower California, Mexicali.

Flashing police sirens rent the calm of the streets.

This soul-piercing sound early in the morning stopped many in their tracks, with two boys in shorts and flip-flops running out of an alley, one with a toothbrush in his mouth, foam still on his lips.

“Ford Explorer!” the slightly younger boy pointed to the leading police car and shouted before running off a list like it was treasure: “Toyota Land Cruiser,” “Hummer H2″…

Parents who followed were just as astonished by the sight.

“Strange, has some major incident happened in Mexicali?

Otherwise, why deploy the ‘Special Police’?”

Police also belong to the armed forces, a violent institution, especially in a place like Mexico where security can’t possibly improve overnight, but not everything can be handled by the military, so within the police force, a “Special Police Company” was established.

Also known as the SDU, its badge displays a character with green fangs and large eyes – that’s Tezcatlipoca, a god from Aztec mythology.

By reassigning two companies from the SWAT Special Police Force, originally under the National Guard, and by selecting 20 people from the dismissed ranks of Army 141 Special Battalion, the “Special Police Company” was established.

They usually don’t take action unless it’s a significant event.

And if even they find it problematic…

Then they send coordinates to the military.

After all, stability needs an address, while counter-terrorism only needs coordinates.

The convoy arrived at the entrance of Mexicali’s biggest cathedral.

The “Ford Explorer” executed a suave turn, positioning itself across the main entrance.

A man dressed in black police uniform, with a fierce look in his eyes, stepped out.

Chief of Mexicali Police Department: Wolf-Heyotto Bernhard Hart Fritz Hermann von Heldorf!

What a tremendously long name…

Descending from the vehicles were nearly 20 fully armed special police with masks, MP5 submachine guns in hand, grenades hanging at their waists, and among them two…

priests wearing glasses?

“Surround this place, don’t even let a mosquito through,” ordered Director Wolf, and his men enveloped the Mexicali Big Cathedral.

He rubbed his gloves, chest out, head held high as he walked towards the interior of the cathedral, only to be met by a panicked Cardinal, the head of North and South Lower California, Juan Sandoval – the future Papal candidate.

“Officer, what is this about?”

“Where is Jesus?

Get him to come out and sign, his place is closed down, unlicensed operation.” Wolf pulled out a pile of papers from his coat and tossed them to Juan Sandoval, “By order of the Mexican Government, we are seizing Mexicali Big Cathedral, expelling the clergy from the territory, and henceforth, they will take over.”

Juan Sandoval’s mouth twitched in anger, glaring at the two men dressed as priests, scolding, “The Church did not send you, I’ve received no orders from the Vatican.”

“We don’t belong to the Vatican; we belong to the Mexico ‘Holy Master’ Church.

From now on, Mexico’s faith is under our control,” one of the men said in a mild tone, adjusting his glasses.

“You’re trying to establish a New Papacy?

Impossible!

Three billion believers around the world will not follow you, and neither will many countries recognize it.

You’re defying the will of God,” shouted a Priest standing behind the Bishop.

It almost sounded like a call to crusade.

“We too wish for everyone’s well-being, but clearly, your Pope doesn’t agree with us, how boring.

Let’s go our separate ways then.

If you’re dissatisfied, just keep it to yourself, otherwise have your Jesus come down and talk to our boss.”

At a wave from Director Wolf, his men dashed in to expel the clergy.

Naturally, the Priests were not pleased, but it’s not the resistance we fear, it’s the lack of it!

The lads from the Special Police Company were neither gentle nor too rough; with a hit of the gun stock, they knocked priests flat, dragging them out like dead dogs.

Cardinal Juan Sandoval too was hit and had his hood grabbed — if you lack dignity, others accord it for you.

When had he ever been treated like this?

He was a Bishop!

A future Papal candidate, commanding wind and rain in the world of Europe and America, immune to earthly laws.

When had he ever encountered such affronts?!!

“Oh God!

Open Your eyes and see, Your believers are suffering, please punish these unholy…”

Before Juan Sandoval could finish, he saw Wolf snatch an MP5 from a nearby special police officer, pull back the bolt, and riddle him with bursts of fire…

Dozens of bullets instantly turned the other into a dog.

The body thumped to the ground!

A silence fell within the cathedral.

“If you don’t want to leave, then don’t.

Chop him up, feed him to the dogs.

And you all, don’t think I am unaware of the crimes you’ve committed in Mexico, acting all innocent, are you, huh?”

Director Wolf said menacingly, waving his hand, “Take them down and finish them.”

“Yes, officer!”

The burly men grabbed the Priests and marched off, the fear finally sinking in for the captives as they screamed and cried, tears flowing like horse urine.

Wolf lit a cigarette for himself, raised his head to look at the crucifix, spitting a thick loogie with precision onto Jesus’ face.

Turning back, he looked at the priests he brought, patting their shoulders.

“Times have changed, tell Jesus to be more proactive in the party.

Otherwise, he won’t rise up.”

The two priests laughed sycophantically as they saw him off.