Working as a police officer in Mexico-Chapter 761 - 423 Big Fool Eats Pizza - Idiot!_2

761: Chapter 423: Big Fool Eats Pizza – Idiot!_2

761 -423: Big Fool Eats Pizza – Idiot!_2

They were already irritated staying in the sewer, watching the Brother Corps bask in glory above while they were stuck below breathing the disgusting stench.

What could they possibly feel?

Light streamed in through the manhole cover overhead.

Next to it, a police officer with a Lieutenant’s insignia stood, his gaze lifting to the sight of someone coming down.

“Presidential Guard,” the man in charge showed his credentials.

The officer scrutinized the document carefully, nodded, and then pointed at the woman.

“She’s the one who caused the gunshot earlier.

She used a self-made double-barreled firearm, but the firearm misfired and exploded when she pulled the trigger.

By the time she tried to continue, plainclothes officers had subdued her.”

“She was less than 200 meters away from the grandstand, mingling among the spectators.

And all the spectators had supposedly been properly vetted.

So why did something like this still happen?

I want to know how.”

One of the Presidential Guard bodyguards caught a gleam in his eye upon hearing this.

A certain group of people here was about to face hell.

This was downright bizarre…

Despite all the layers of protection, something like this still managed to occur. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

But then again, even Egypt’s Sadat was taken out by his own people.

Even the wisest among us falters at times!

When blame is assigned, there’s no escaping it.

The bodyguard shoved aside the Special Police Company officer and glanced down at the woman.

She was beaten to the point that she barely looked human anymore; even the clothes on her body had been torn to shreds.

Worst of all…

silicone seemed to have been kicked out of her?

She was barely breathing, inhaling more than she exhaled.

Her face was covered in fresh blood, and she strained to open her eyes, struggling to lift her hand.

The bodyguard stomped on her face, glanced at the nearby Intelligence Bureau agents, and said, “You’re taking her?

She won’t die on the way, right?”

“She won’t.

We’re professionals,” one of the cold-faced agents responded.

Someone then pulled out a syringe and injected something directly into the assassin.

Adrenaline carried on them at all times?!

Definitely a bunch of freaks!

“Better uncover some leads soon.

The boss doesn’t have much patience,” the bodyguard said darkly, staring intently at the agents.

Meanwhile, Victor was hosting a luncheon with various international representatives.

People eagerly approached him to bow and greet, some even giving him a thumbs-up, praising his harsh measures against drug traffickers, saying physical elimination was indeed the right approach.

These people…

Many of them had previously criticized his methods at the United Nations.

The saying holds true: truth resides within firing range.

The representative from the United Kingdom slumped nearby like a loser, grilling the accompanying MI6 operative, “Why does Mexico have intercontinental missiles?

And why didn’t we know about it?

Where’s your intel?”

The operative looked a bit embarrassed.

“We didn’t receive any information.”

“Bullshit!

Do you think something that big could just ‘poof’ and appear out of nowhere?”

The MI6 agent awkwardly chuckled, hesitated for a moment, and lowered his voice, “Sir, do you think there’s any chance… they really did just suddenly show up?

Or, maybe… aliens?”

The UK representative, exhausted from his outburst, reached for his glass of red wine.

Upon hearing this, he spat it out in shock, choking, with wine now streaming from his nose.

He didn’t even bother wiping it away, turned his head toward the operative, and cursed him out, though he kept his voice low.

“Gut feeling?

F***!

My gut feeling is that MI6 is utterly useless.

This isn’t a feeling; it’s reality!!!

Why does Congress give you so much money every year, only for you to start rambling about aliens?

You should be writing sci-fi novels, not working as an operative.”

The MI6 agent shrunk in on himself, barely daring to lift his head after being berated.

He had a gut feeling…

He was going to lose his job.

Sigh~

A working stiff is just a beast, just impossible to please!

The luncheon stretched on until around three in the afternoon, gradually wrapping up.

Seasoned politicians didn’t let themselves get too drunk—they wouldn’t want to lose face—but they still drank plenty.

That included Victor, who was brought home by others.

Krista Schroeder, hearing the commotion, was cradling her child as she came over.

Seeing Victor tipsy and teetering, she quickly joined in helping to settle him onto the couch, then asked the housekeeper to heat some water.

Krista grabbed the towel, wiping his face herself.

“Why drink so much?

Alcohol is no good for you.”

Joseph Xiafei chuckled weakly.

“No worries.

Today, I’m happy.

Did you see the Americans’ faces?

Tsk, tsk, too satisfying!” Victor shouted like he was venting all the pent-up resentment in his chest.

He stood up and stretched his arms wide.

“From 170 years of disarray within Mexico, repeated defeats outwardly, losing morale, and invasions reducing the nation to shambles, this scenario…

ends today, and it ends completely!”

“From now on, the tides have turned!”

Joseph Xiafei and the others silently regarded him, admiration and a touch of madness evident in their eyes.

Krista Schroeder, once a secretary turned mistress, gazed at him with overwhelming affection—what woman wouldn’t want her man to be a great hero?

Victor fell back onto the couch, softly snoring.

He had fallen asleep just like that.

The young guy sure could sleep.

Just as Xiafei and the others prepared to help him upstairs, hurried footsteps from outside approached.

They were short and quick — a bodyguard from the Guard Corps.

Xiafei glanced at him, then at the sleeping Victor, hesitating to move.

Krista Schroeder gestured “shh” toward him with her finger.

But out of nowhere, Victor seemed to spark to life again, his eyes snapping open.

Like he had some unseen connection, he turned his head, “What’s going on?

How long did I sleep?”

His words left the others momentarily silent.

You see, being in charge isn’t as easy as the world thinks.

Look at those other leaders—they age faster than anyone, burdened by immense pressure even as they wield immense power.

Pressure from society, scrutiny from the media—it’s endless.

Victor, as a whole, looked at least seven years older than his peers.

During his physical checkup, the doctor told him clearly: he needed exercise and less late nights.