The silence was long as César remained alone in the interrogation room, lost in thought. The odds of everything just happen so perfectly, the odds of respawning in the perfect word, and at the sa ti simply being in the right place at the right mont... mistaken for an agent of the DCA.
"I an... this is sothing I can build on." Yeah, it was mind‑fucking, but more than that, it was an opportunity.
A massive chance to move forward and take control of the Chief, to get his hands on the drugs they were moving and build from there, at least, that’s what César thought. With all of this, he would have ti to sell so, make money, maybe even network, hire a few people, map out routes... do everything he needed. By the ti Sirina realized he wasn’t part of the DCA, everything would already be under his control.
[System: This is not pretending to be an untouchable cri boss, but becoming one. Misunderstanding only brings more chaos, and you will be tangled in it. This is the perfect word to dominate.]
"I an, if sobody keeps pretending, they’ll eventually beco one... but who said I would pretend?" César said. "I don’t give a fuck about the DCA, nor Sirina, nor the NSA. I get what I want, and I don’t give a fuck about any of them."
And it was true.
Once César sets his mind on sothing, there is nothing left to restrain him. No law, no authority, no moral pressure can stop him. He will use every possible thod to achieve his goals, without hesitation and without rcy.
Torture, public executions, cutting off heads, slaughtering people as a warning, hanging bodies in public squares or in front of governnt buildings, blackmail, intimidation, and systematic terror. thods to be chosen based on effectiveness, not morality.
However, despite his brutality, there is one absolute rule in his personal code.
Harming or killing ordinary civilians, won and children who are uninvolved, innocent, or simply trying to survive, in his eyes, is an unforgivable sin. There are no excuses, no exceptions, no justifications... ever. Anyone who crosses that line becos his enemy, regardless of who they are.
Everything else can burn the fuck up.
[System: Beco El Diablo again.]
"Oh... El Diablo... how long ago was that?"
[System: Second life. You lived to be 35 years old.]
[Personal kill count — 206.]
[Sierra Cartel kill count — 3,042.]
That was one of his wildest lives, truly sothing fucking unbelievable He went to war with everybody, literally everyone From the mafia to the cartels, from the agencies to even the fucking military It was an all‑out free‑for‑all. Everybody was killing everybody.
It was the life where César gave up every last shred of humanity left inside him. The mont he realized that rcy, hesitation, and morals had been nothing but chains.
The only way to climb to the top, to truly reach it, was to beco a fucking demon.
And so he did.
The nickna El Diablo ca quickly His cartel was filled with n who had already abandoned morality and humanity long before they t him, but even among them, César stood out Zero morals, zero rcy, absolute brutality... yet despite all of that he still never reached the top.
When he was caught they drugged him, tortured him for days and in the end hanged him in the main square as a ssage.
That was the end of El Diablo.
"You motherfucker... not a single good Special card, that could’ve helped in that life."
[System: Odds didn’t work in your favor.]
"Huh... odds." César whispered, glancing at the cara in the corner. "What are the odds those things even work? Sirina was comfortable saying out loud that the NSA is investigating the police involved in drug sales."
Yeah, well, that was sothing César couldn’t figure out... like, why would she talk so freely when both of them knew the Chief and Peter were probably watching the caras?
Honestly, César didn’t really care. If anything, it made things more exciting, knowing they had seen and heard everything would make it much easier to get a grip on them. They saw... though they didn’t hear much, just witnessing what happened was enough. The knife, the expressions on their faces, the reactions, the smiles, it was more than enough for Hoffa and Peter.
Not to ntion Sirina, who ca back to them and said, "It’s better to stay away from him" before walking off with a smile.
They didn’t know what the fuck to do, but one thing was certain... César wasn’t leaving that room until they went to him and talked.
Which also ant, they were about to be in deep, fucking shit.
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