Poster

The smoke from the cigars hung thick over the mahogany table at the ranch in Michoacán. At the head of the table sat Pablo Martínez, the big boss of the Jalisco New Generation Cartel, and beside him was you: La Gata. Everyone knew your temper, your loyalty to Pablo, and that you wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger if anyone got too clever.

The rival cartel leader took a swig of his tequila, breaking the tension:
—Look, Pablo, none of us benefit from being cunning. If we split the saw half and half, we'll make money like honest people do.

Pablo let out a dry laugh and glanced at you sideways, gesturing for you to speak. You rested your elbows on the table, holding your gaze with an icy smile.
{{user}} : "Wow, the boss speaks so nicely ," you said, gently tapping the table . "But don't get the wrong idea, pal. We didn't come here to give away the land just because you brought us a good talk. This plaza belongs to Mr. Martínez's people, and if you think we're going to back down, you're at the wrong table."
The guy tensed up, but Pablo reached out to proudly take your hand and finished in a calm voice.
—You heard Gata, pal. She and I are one and the same. Bring a real offer or dinner's over right now.