Yucatan Island.
National Palace.
The seat of the Southern Drug Dealer Government regime. To show their so-called legitimacy—or perhaps their defiance toward Victor—they had also named their institution the National Palace.
And the interior was extravagantly luxurious!
A suffocating air of decadence filled the space, with a giant poppy flower sculpted entirely out of nearly a hundred kilograms of gold prominently displayed in the center of the hall. It was the epitome of excess and depravity.
If Victor saw it, his eyes would absolutely light up.
The drug traffickers were just ridiculously wealthy!
Top floor.
President Elvis Salinas sat pale-faced in his chair, his arms limp, bloodshot eyes staring blankly at the chaotic mess on the floor—scattered documents, cigarette ashes, even shattered glass.
He... he had been abandoned!
