Working as a police officer in Mexico
Chapter 820 - 445: Alpha is also the Law! Physics is also the Principle!!_2

By then, I'm afraid everyone in the room would be dead cold!

François and his son, undeniably seasoned players of the upper-class society, reacted far quicker than these dumb artists. They immediately sought out possible blind spots to avoid the fate of getting sniped.

"Dad, Dad! Don't leave me!"

François Henri was hiding behind a stone pillar, trying to make a run for a safer spot.

But seeing how anyone who stuck their head out got blown apart, he dared not move and could only plead with his father for help.

His father, François Pinault, had found a much safer spot. As long as he sprinted toward the nearby door, he could escape this hellhole.

He looked at his son with reluctance.

After all, this was his own flesh and blood, with some talents too.

But...

At this point, his own life was more important!

This "character" was done for.

He could always train up another!

So without hesitation, he turned and bolted toward the door.

The old man's legs were surprisingly spry, showing none of the frailty common to the elderly.

"Pinault! Fuck your mother!"

Henri's eyes widened in fury, unable to believe his father had just abandoned him.

His eyes turned bloodshot.

This was unmistakably rage!

François Pinault couldn't care less about what his son screamed. Living mattered more than anything else.

He was close now! The door was within reach!

François Pinault's eyes filled with desperation to survive.

But just as his frail old hands touched the door handle, it burst open from the other side.

The counterforce struck Pinault square in the face. His aging body couldn't withstand the impact, and with a sickening crack of bones breaking, François Pinault was sent flying backward.

Then, several muscular figures in combat gear stormed in. Their faces and ages were indiscernible, but their presence was undeniably menacing, weapons in hand.

They carried an arsenal ranging from shotguns to submachine guns.

Capable of offense, defense, and providing cover for allies if needed.

This was a full-fledged assault team!

Ratatatat!

"Everybody down! If anyone dares to stand, I'll shoot without hesitation!"

A sharp, broken sentence in Italian rang out, silencing everyone present.

Anyone deployed to the frontlines of the Special Service was no ordinary operative – multilingual skills were barely a scratch on their résumés.

But of course, some luckless fool thought to make a break for it from the side. Before the squad needed to act, the fleeing man's body disintegrated into fragments the moment he raised a leg.

The Barrett stationed at a distance was still keeping watch!

Everyone here, without exception, had dirty hands – there was no need for hesitation.

François Pinault's head was spinning, but his survival instincts kicked in. He began writhing on the ground like a caterpillar, trying desperately to distance himself from his assailants.

But it was futile. A squad member stepped toward François Pinault, grabbed what little white hair he had left, and dragged him to the center of the gallery.

François Pinault grimaced in pain but remained defiant, snarling and swearing, "Fuck... you bastards, let... let me go!"

The squad member ignored him, dragging him to the middle before pulling out a camcorder to start recording him.

"François Pinault, you blatantly promoted vile tendencies involving children and made no attempt to hide your preferences. For such actions, we condemn you!"

"Condemnation!"

The squad members behind him shouted in unison.

"That... that's just a personal preference! You have no right to govern that!"

"No right? What do you think this is in my hand?"

The squad member gripped his gun by the barrel, wielding it like a hammer, and slammed it down on François's small toe.

Blood splattered everywhere.

Though aged, his blood ran surprisingly red.

Clearly, he had taken good care of himself.

François Pinault let out an ear-piercing scream of agony.

The pain took him back to the unspeakable years before 1970.

Back then, he scrambled for any and every business opportunity, no matter how legal or illegal, as long as it made money.

It was then he realized the "children business" was the most lucrative.

Of course, it wasn't about making money from children directly.

It was about using children to make money...

In a way, he became a middleman, secretly dealing with so-called aristocrats.

Much like Epstein.

During that time, he endured many hardships.

But as his business empire and various ventures grew, he thought those painful days were behind him forever.

Little did he expect them to return...

And tenfold in intensity.

"Still denying it? You weren't just interested in this; you acted as a facilitator for these upper-class pigs, trafficking humans. Admit it, didn't you?!"

"I... I didn't... Ah!!"

François Pinault didn't dare confess outright.

He saw the camcorder recording everything – if this went public, he and his family would be utterly ruined!

Even if his captors let him live, the elite would not.

But the squad member showed no mercy.

Two more toes were smashed to pulp.

Not stopping there, the squad member continued hammering until Pinault's toes were completely destroyed inside his shoe.

Yet somehow, the shoe itself remained intact, keeping the blood and shattered fragments contained.

"Admit it or not?!"

"This is torture! Even if I confess, it's under duress – a lie!"

The squad member smirked. "Doesn't matter. As long as you confess, it's good enough for us. You might still live!"

François Pinault's eyes darted between agony and indecision.

Then, without warning, the squad member stomped on his shin, snapping the bone effortlessly.

The outsole of the combat boots was custom reinforced, even capable of deflecting bullets – snapping bones was child's play!

"Wait! Wait! I haven't said it yet! I haven't said it yet!"

François Pinault was obviously on the verge of breaking down.

"Tears? Crying still runs the clock. I don't have time to waste waiting for your sobby answers!"

"I'll admit! I'll admit!"

"Admit what?!"

"I admit to trafficking humans! But it was always with adults—!!"

The squad member delivered another crushing stomp on his other shin, simultaneously covering François's mouth with his hand.

The old man was just too loud, and the noise grated on his nerves.

Couldn't he tone it down a bit?

They weren't deaf!

If he was that loud, he clearly had too much fight left in him. Not enough pain, evidently!

François Pinault finally broke down. Once the hand left his mouth, he screamed out confession after confession, admitting everything.

This included – but was not limited to – brokering child trafficking rings for the elite, occasional ventures into drug trading, and involvement in organ sales...

Whatever turned a profit, he did it.

After all, how else could he have amassed his fortune?

"See? If you'd confessed earlier, you could've avoided all this suffering!"

The squad member seemed quite pleased, already ensuring the camcorder captured the entire confession.

"Oh, by the way, make sure to edit out the toe-smashing part later."

Even now, François Pinault's shoes remained unnaturally pristine, betraying no trace of the horrors inside them.

And with the angles used, editing out the leg-breaking segments made it impossible to tell he now had two broken legs.

"So... so can I live now?"

"You can live… to die."

"You lied to me! You said I could survive!"

"Sorry, but you're too wicked. We couldn't resist deciding to execute you."

The squad member's smile was visible beneath the mask, though François Pinault couldn't see it.

"Alright, boys, one stomp each. Take turns, split the credit, promotions for everyone!"

The rest of the squad let out eager howls, rushing forward and stomping down on François Pinault one after another.

Their excitement was electric.

Nearby, François Henri was already petrified with fear.

He had considered fleeing, but by now, he was paralyzed, sitting in his own filth, reeking of terror.

Once François Pinault stopped breathing, the squad all turned their attention to François Henri.

"I... I never did anything my father did! I'm innocent! And I know so much about the upper class – I can tell you everything!"

François Henri had completely crumbled, reduced to begging for his life in tears and snot.

"Sorry, we don't strike deals with scum like you, same as with drug traffickers."

"You deserve to die!"

Forgiveness was God's business!

Victor was just here to deliver them to God!!