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 same time simply being in the right place at the right moment… mistaken for an agent of the DCA.
"I mean… this is something 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 time to sell some, make money, maybe even network, hire a few people, map out routes… do everything he needed. By the time 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 crime boss, but becoming one. Misunderstanding only brings more chaos, and you will be tangled in it. This is the perfect word to dominate.]
"I mean, if somebody keeps pretending, they'll eventually become 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 something, there is nothing left to restrain him. No law, no authority, no moral pressure can stop him. He will use every possible method to achieve his goals, without hesitation and without mercy.
Torture, public executions, cutting off heads, slaughtering people as a warning, hanging bodies in public squares or in front of government buildings, blackmail, intimidation, and systematic terror. Methods 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, women 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 becomes his enemy, regardless of who they are.
Everything else can burn the fuck up.
[System: Become 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 something 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 moment he realized that mercy, hesitation, and morals had been nothing but chains.
The only way to climb to the top, to truly reach it, was to become a fucking demon.
And so he did.
The nickname El Diablo came quickly His cartel was filled with men who had already abandoned morality and humanity long before they met him, but even among them, César stood out Zero morals, zero mercy, 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 message.
That was the end of El Diablo.
"You motherfucker… not a single good Special card, that could've helped me in that life."
[System: Odds didn't work in your favor.]
"Huh… odds." César whispered, glancing at the camera 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 something 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 cameras?
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 mention Sirina, who came 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 meant, they were about to be in deep, fucking shit.