Narcos: Mexico

Come on, you motherfucker...

Don't do this.

You out there, boss?

Come in, boss. Boss?

Hold on!

Fuck. No!

Fuck! No!

I'm going down. Repeat. I'm going down.

Seven miles, southeast.

Seven miles southeast of the airstrip. Repeat. I'm going down.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck...

Boss?

Yeah.

Almost loaded up, boss.

Good.

What about the plane?

Bury it.

Have you brought shovels, assholes?

I'm fucking with you, Manny.

Oh.

What's that?

You call for more help, boss?

Holy shit.

Get in the fucking trucks.

Let's go. Let's go!

Let's go.

Come on!

Fuck this...

Come on!

Good afternoon, guys. What's up?

Inside the pickup, there's a bag I found. Almost seventy grand in it...

Maybe your men can use it.

New uniforms...

A night out...

There's my plane, too, if you want it.

I'm putting you under military arrest...

and transporting you to the nearest prison.

My father used to tell me...

"What's the point in having a voice if you don't use it?"

So, I used mine to ask a lot of questions.

When I was a kid, the teacher told us the earth is always spinning.

I didn't believe her

because she couldn't explain why I didn't feel anything move.

Told me I was being a distraction.

To be honest, she was a shitty teacher but she was right.

There are forces moving us.

Shaping our lives that we're not aware of.

Some of us try to figure out how they work.

Some of us use our voice...

When the '90s began,

Amado Carrillo Fuentes was just a mid-level narco.

One of several former lieutenants of Félix Gallardo,

who formed new organizations that coexisted peacefully.

And the rest of us, we were on the brink of a globalized economy

that would deliver prosperity for all.

Things made sense.

A few years later, all that would be turned on its fucking head.

And trust me, those changes, they were ones we felt.

Someone was asking me what the hardest part about this has been.

You know, for me, it's just been letting go.

You know, opening up...

House I grew up in, it...

It always felt like someone was stepping on your chest. Every day.

Like you were walking a tightrope, and at any second, shit could just go off.

Explode.

But I was lucky because I had my brother.

There were two of us, so we had each other.

At least till I was 15.

Then one day, he came and told me he was leaving.

Said he was joining the army and wanted to get into law enforcement.

Basically get the fuck out of Dodge.

Pretty soon after that, he was gone.

And then I was all alone,

and angry all the time.

The only time that I felt like

that foot got off my chest was when I drank.

And so, I drank.

It's just what I did, and...

I guess letting go seems like it'd be pretty easy,

but, um... it's not.

I don't know. I just...

I just have to keep trying to figure it out.

And I'll keep trying.

Anyways, thanks.

Been a while since you shared.

Yeah, I was just taking your advice and doing the work.

Mmm.

How does that feel?

They call it work for a reason.

You're doing it, though. Yeah.

Finally talked to my guy for you.

- Got you a face-to-face. - Yeah?

Told him you were solid.

Just don't make me look like a clown now. These dudes do not play.

Mike, I promise you, I won't let you down.

Bring your CDL.

White boy long-haulers are money in the bank.

All right. Anything else?

Come by the car lot on Alameda and Sun Park tomorrow at 3:00.

- All right. I'll see you then. - See you then.

Hey, Mike...

Thank you.

Your brother loves you, man.

Shit wasn't on either one of you.

I'll see you tomorrow.

Wow. Your story made me want to drink, man.

Yeah? - Like, really badly.

Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it. Fucker finally set the meet.

We got all that on tape, too. Good shit, Walt.

What the fuck is a CDL?

It's a commercial driver's license. Truck drivers 101.

You can get me one of those, right?

I'll make you up one right now.

Seriously, nobody feels like a beer?

I got a redneck driver's license to make.

Go right.

Down that way...

Hey, Daz. Daz, you home, man?

Yo, who is it?

Daz, open up, bro.

Man, who the fuck is Daz?

Go, go.

Find the fucking money.

- -

Yo! Fuck you. -

Go, go, go! Go!

Got the money! Let's roll! Go, go, go!

Out, out, out!

Let's get the fuck out of here!

Let's go!

- -

He's dead. Grab him.

Fuck. -

Fuck!

Leave him. Let's go, let's go!

Let's go!

Bring it out and hut! Hut! Jive, girls!

Walk it back.

Down lunge, hut, hut! Kicking!

Divide the cash.

Put aside two grand for the Captain.

What about the kid back there?

Luis fucked up.

What, Rogelio?

Did he have a family?

A girlfriend, I think.

In Chihuahua.

Get some money to her.

Okay.

Our pals across the river

got some bad news coming their way,

once we start tearing their shit down one by one.

El Paso PD's up to speed. We'll have a briefing tomorrow morning.

- Go okay tonight? Feel good? - Yes, sir.

- All right, good work. Get some rest. - Sir...

Those wire transcripts today, anything on Amado Carrillo Fuentes?

No. No, nothing for a while now.

Your boy's disappeared, Walt.

Maybe your giant fucking hard-on for him

scared him off into the hills of Chihuahua.

Yeah, maybe.

Hey, Mills, you got any quarters?

SOCIAL REINTEGRATION N 4 PARRAL, CHIHUAHUA

Dani? Hey!

Hey, how was work?

Ugh, department meeting wouldn't end.

- Sorry I smell like an ashtray. - Mmm.

Hey, I didn't say a thing.

Check this out.

- I fuckin' scored! -

My God, look at them, so shiny and round.

I'm talkin' three, four loads, easy.

We could run two dryers at the same time.

Yeah, sky's the limit. Maybe even do towels.

Oof. My hero! This is real progress.

- Did your thing come today? - No, but thanks for reminding me.

Be honest with me, how many times did you check the mailbox?

I'm prepared to accept whatever path the universe presents.

Oh, yeah, 'cause you're the path-accepting type.

How was your undercover thing?

It wasn't bad, other than all the cigarettes.