Working as a police officer in Mexico

1990 was simply a year of tumultuous changes!

To put it nicely, it was a time when heroes contended for dominance, to put it unpleasantly, the Clown took the stage!

Especially within the Anti-Iraq Coalition, the terrorist attacks against several countries were a total embarrassment to the United Nations!

The United States representative demanded that Iraq be listed as a terrorist organization!

And they asked the United Nations for authorization to use military force against them.

Damn it, you talk bad about me on stage, the Yanks aren't very broad-minded, if I don't deal with you, how can I still claim to be the "Boss of Blue Star" when I go out?

But with the authorisation issue, countries like the Soviet Union meddled from inside, making things very awkward.

United States representative Asmir Ward said to his subordinate with a gloomy face, "The United Nations just needs to rubber-stamp it. If they don't agree, I'll do it myself!"

This wasn't just him shooting his mouth off without thinking.

It was the intention from the White House, they had to launch the Gulf War!

This would to some extent elevate the international stature of the United States, enhance its ability and confidence to intervene in international affairs, and the United States quickly established a powerful Anti-Iraq Coalition through various means, playing the role of the leader and demonstrating its "leadership" role in handling international affairs.

Most importantly, it would shake off the "Vietnam War Syndrome" that had been affecting them for many years.

They wanted to rise again.

But the Iraqi people were not accommodating, directly showing a four-and-a-half-minute "documentary" in front of all the media.

It clearly recorded the bloody suppression of World War I veterans in 1932, masterminded by President Hoover, guided by MacArthur, commanded on the spot by Eisenhower, with the off-road vehicle warrior General Patton also in command!

"Look at this! Such an America even kills its own people, you are useful to them only when they need you, when you are abandoned, you are just a piece to be sacrificed at any time!"

"When you go to ask for a pension, they would throw the money into the maintenance fund of the Presidential Palace, not give it to you."

"By selling your life for them, regardless of success, you will lose your life!"

The Iraqi newsman said sarcastically, ""Old soldiers never die, they just fade away... into bullets!!""

This was directly a slap in the face.

Darn it, the Americans were instantly on the defensive, claiming on newspapers that those were not old soldiers, but traitors attempting to subvert the state.

It seemed the Iraqis had some expert advice, no matter how you cursed them out.

They were releasing a sensationalist tidbit domestically every day.

"Give him a cavalry regiment, killing the elderly, the weak, the sick, and the disabled!"

"American killing-chicken services!"

This repulsed many Americans as if they had eaten a fly.

You should know that in some families their fathers or grandfathers were living World War I veterans, and the Iraqis had outright reopened a wound that had healed over decades.

It caused no small amount of trouble within the United States.

The White House!

Old Bush hung up the phone with a dark look in his eyes, picked up a cigar from the table, and said to his confidant and secretary Fitz Gerald, "Those old folks in Congress postponed the bill again!"

He was very angry now, wanting Congress to discuss compensations and pensions for World War I veterans, which could change the opinions many Americans had about the government.

But those bloodsucking vampires in Congress, upon hearing that money was involved, reacted as if they were being asked to commit murder.

It's like they wonder if I'm made of money?

Sometimes you can't even say this country is about capitalism anymore, it's about moneyism.

Seeing his boss so agitated, confidant and secretary Fitz Gerald lowered his voice, "We could bypass Congress."

"Are you paying for it?!" Old Bush looked at him, laughing with anger.

"We could have someone else pay for us, like Mexico's Victor?" Fitz Gerald's eyes glittered, "Of course, we can't ask for their money for nothing. Congress refuses to pay, but we can launch another bill, military aid for Mexico!"

"Mexico has brawled with Iraq for us at the United Nations. We can't let them down. He likes the F14, doesn't he?"

Old Bush understood at once, using some "scrap metal" to secure the funds he needed, then subsidizing the World War I veterans, he could also tell others, see, stick with me, I can't give you the latest version, but I can make you a bug in the secondary version!

His eyes lit up, looking at Fitz Gerald...

At last, he also understood what kind of look MacArthur had when he was Emperor Emeritus in Japan and saw Hirohito's wife.

Hm...

According to rumors, the Japanese imperial family at the time thought the Americans who defeated them were of superior stock, planning to conceive a child through their seed. After all, Hirohito's father, Emperor Taisho, was famously dimwitted.

He wouldn't remove his trousers even to go to the bathroom.

To improve their genes, they borrowed MacArthur's seed, which is also one reason why he later could be called "Emperor Emeritus."

History may not always be accurate, but it must be wild!

"How much money are we talking about?"

"2 billion US Dollars!" Fitz Gerald said.

Old Bush frowned, but soon relaxed, "Then when the time comes, add the A-10 attack plane, the M60 main battle Tank, the F16, put them all on the military aid bill! As long as we get the money, all of these go to Victor."

Leaving them in the "aircraft graveyard" would just be gathering dust anyways, costing money every year to maintain. Better to contribute to ourselves and later we can increase our own approval ratings.

"Can we really trust Mexico?" Suddenly Old Bush, seemingly out of nowhere, blurted out this question.

Secretary Fitz Gerald hesitated when put on the spot like this, but looking back into his boss's eyes, he nodded solemnly, "Of course! Victor has almost broken with the Soviet camp for the United States. If he is a wise man, he won't try to ride two horses. He's definitely a devoted servant, on this point, I can guarantee with my life!"

"Most importantly, Mexico is too close to the United States, too far from paradise. Within an hour, 20 of our divisions could instantly rush into Mexico!"

"In my lifetime, Mexico and Victor will never betray us!" Secretary Fitz Gerald grew increasingly enthusiastic as he spoke, waving his hand with conviction.

This...

Seems like something Kennedy also said once, didn't he?

Old Bush was taken aback, but upon hearing the other party's confidence, he nodded, patting their shoulders, "Let Asmir and Victor handle this matter, and get me the draft speech ready, I want to announce pensions for the veterans."

"Not waiting for a message back from Vienna?"

"Victor won't refuse, will he?" Old Bush said with a smile.

Fitz Gerald nodded, "No, he won't."

Right, Victor would not refuse...

If he heard about so much military aid.

NMD, isn't it just about money?

Victor directly froze all drug traffickers' accounts in Mexico, the Sinaloa Group was beaten half to death, and the Tijuana Cartel was wiped out; these two super drug traffickers had fed him quite well.

In the United States, people jokingly calculated that Victor had a net worth of over 7 billion US Dollars, all thanks to these people.

But in reality, it was far more than that...

After all, there were even more hidden benefits.

Many big shots like buying real estate, like the famous Tangong Villa No. 16, which is also truly their own, Guzman and the Tijuana Benjamin brothers also liked buying; these things were numerous overseas.

Spanning over 20 countries, there's even a small island in the Caribbean Sea near Haiti.

Strictly speaking, these are all private properties, and after being seized by the Northern Mexican Alliance, they all belong to the Presidential Palace!

So, you can imagine how much Victor's assets are worth.

If he wanted to go public, his wealth could skyrocket, straight into the ranks of the rich. To avoid unnecessary trouble, he would never actively seek out such lists.

In a high-end café within the Vienna Konne Medical Center.

Just by hearing the name, one would know this is actually a private hospital, with quite a few internal cafés and lounges, as well as necessary movie rooms. Whatever you want, as long as you pay for it, it's here.

Bodyguards were triple-layered inside and out at the entrance.

Seated in the massive café, however, were three people.

Victor, Belsaria sitting next to him, and a man in his early thirties sitting opposite, who honestly was quite a challenge for Victor in terms of looks.

He was the Rumsfeld Family's eldest grandson, now serving as the Mayor of Hampton, Virginia—Bramo Ramsfield!

A 30-year-old mayor...

Truly, power ran through his veins.

He was looking at Victor with an evaluative gaze, furrowing his brows, but due to etiquette, he forced a smile, "Mr. Victor? I know you!"

Before Victor could express his gratitude, the man immediately added, "You've caused quite a stir in New York, to be honest. Perhaps you already know who we are..."

"Brother!" Belsaria frowned and called out, "Are you here to convey a message? He is my boyfriend; I don't want to hear any other opinions from you here, including matters concerning the Kennedy family!"

Bramo Ramsfield looked at his angered sister and smiled, "Of course not. Our factions are different. Do you think Old Mr. Bush would think highly of us if you were to marry into their family? They're not worthy of our Rumsfeld children."

"Then what about you?" he suddenly turned to Victor and asked.

Aggressive!

He was like an obstacle to the whole affair.

This was about to become a laughingstock at some top-tier banquets, no, perhaps it should be said within some circles that fancy themselves as nobility.

You could play around, Belsaria could find a star or even a woman; after all, it was just playing. But Victor's status was too awkward, the Mexican Governor. Would they call her the Governor's Wife later?

Falling in love with a "dog" in America's backyard?

It looked terrible.

"The Kennedy family?"
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"The one whose head was opened by a bullet?"

Victor suddenly said with a smile, leaning forward and staring at him, "My warehouse is stocked with tens of millions of bullets. Tell me, does the Kennedy family have that many people?"

"How many divisions do they have?!"

"What caliber!"

"How many soldiers?"

Bramo Ramsfield furrowed his brows, "Some matters are about influence."

Victor stood up, "Bullshit influence! Isn't it all about who has the stronger fist? Have the Kennedy family send someone over to Mexico, can they send a division?"

"Maybe they should wait until someone from the Kennedy family becomes president again!"

"But unfortunately..."

"Jesus asked for my opinion, and I won't allow it! Their family will never have another president." Victor grinned.

And indeed, there never was another thereafter.

"Jesus?" Bramo Ramsfield thought the other party was joking.

"I have the power to protect Belsaria!"

"Do you want to try?"

Victor's provocation made Bramo feel troubled. He looked at his sister beside him, knowing that ever since childhood, Belsaria had a rebellious streak and a heart searching for a prince, and this statement hit right where it hurt.

An "alpha male" husband was very appealing!

Meanwhile, Victor was thinking, should he get her pregnant first?

Then...

You might not recognize me, but you would recognize your grandchild.

You wouldn't want her to be a widow, would you?

Both men at the table were elites in their own fields, each with their own designs, and Belsaria was completely oblivious.

There's no damned love in the adult world.

It's all about interests and compromises.

Sometimes, you have to say, it's quite ironic.

...