Working as a police officer in Mexico
Chapter 850 - 457: "I will fight for a ray of light in this sky!

"Go to Mexico, cross the Pacific Ocean, where the sun rises, the crimson sparks have already ignited a prairie fire!"

"Comrades!"

"We must ask those lords in Washington, who exactly, are the real beasts!"

"Come, Mexico will form an International Brigade, for the purest conscience and faith of humanity."

"Fight to the death!!!!!"

On TV, Victor's incendiary rhetoric had the crowd chanting "Long live!"

Meanwhile, in the President's office...

Silence, an awful, suffocating silence.

James Dan Quayle's hands were trembling, as if he had Parkinson's disease. His eyes were bloodshot, his mouth twitching to one side...

"Sir, sir, what's wrong with you?!" The presidential advisor, Richardson, noticed something was off and rushed forward, wide-eyed with concern.

Please don't die here.

James Dan Quayle clutched his chest, and then with a startling look in his eyes, he collapsed unconscious.

"DOCTOR!!!"

The White House's medical team rushed in immediately, performing CPR and arranging a vehicle to send him to Walter Reed National Military Medical Center.

Joining Old Bush, it seemed.

Richardson sat in the back, clutching James Dan Quayle's hand tightly, his eyes brimming with sorrow.

It appeared… their relationship had "special depths."

Suddenly, Richardson felt movement in his palm. Startled, he looked up only to see James Dan Quayle's eyes still shut tight, but his fingers twitching in Richardson's hand.

Not dead?!!

Richardson's face lit up with joy, but then his brain quickly "exploded" with realization—he was a smart man, and he instantly understood the other man's intent.

Playing dead.

That's right, playing dead.

The current situation was an absolute mess, completely out of control. And James Dan Quayle, after all, was just an acting president. If Clinton came to power, he'd likely throw all the blame on Quayle, possibly even sending him to prison.

Better to retreat now, step into the hospital, and let Clinton take over directly.

Screw it, I'm done!

Richardson sighed and lowered his head.

Those around him thought he was worried about his friend.

James Dan Quayle entering the hospital couldn't be kept a secret; the news spread through the highest circles in no time.

In a mansion in Washington...

Clinton was restless!

His wife had restricted his freedom—yes… She was afraid he'd cause more trouble.

He, too, had seen Ambrella's speech on TV, and it gave him a headache.

"If I come to power, do I go to war with Victor?" He turned toward the "acting" Defense Minister, Robert Gates.

"That's the decision of the Bohemian Club, Mr. President," Gates replied with a fake smile.

Having replaced the old defense minister, he naturally had to prepare. February 2nd was Clinton's inauguration day.

At the mention of the Bohemian Club, Clinton fell silent.

Only those within the Heavenly Palace knew what a fraction of its power truly meant.

Victor, a man trying to claw his way up from the bottom to peek at the Heavenly Palace, naturally had to be crushed.

They wouldn't allow anyone to challenge them!

"What about Ambrella? And the Eisenhower?" Clinton asked.

Robert Gates squinted, "We'll launch a global manhunt for him. A traitor deserves to be hanged. The attack on the Eisenhower only proves one thing—there's no chance for reconciliation with Mexico."

"The drumbeats of war are getting louder."

Although the sinking of the aircraft carrier was "painful," for those in power, it was just money, wasn't it?

Raise taxes and it's solved.

"And what about Cuba? If we go to war, what happens to Cuba? Will they get involved?"

"Are you so sure Cuba… doesn't have people dissatisfied with Castro?"

Uh!

Clinton looked at him; Gates looked back. Their gazes locked in midair.

Ding-a-ling-ling~

The phone in the living room suddenly rang. Clinton averted his eyes and walked over to answer, "Hello."

"What? That's great! Uh… I mean, do everything you can to save James. Alright, I'm at home. I'll wait for you."

"What happened?" Gates asked in surprise.

"James Dan Quayle had a stroke. He's in the hospital now, and Congress is on their way here. I'm to be sworn in immediately. From this moment on, I am the true President of the United States!"

Clinton spoke, barely able to suppress his laughter—he was absolutely ecstatic!!

Robert Gates was stunned as well. A stroke?

Oh, come on…

Taking out two presidents in one year?

Is the White House's feng shui that bad?

He suddenly glanced at Clinton. If… by any chance Clinton were to have an "incident," it'd rival the Blue House in drama.

Ten minutes later, three Cadillacs rolled into the villa. Clinton, who had been waiting, swore the oath to become the 42nd President of the United States in front of witnesses!

"I solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States."

He pressed the Bible, raised his hand, and spoke to the cameras.

He had memorized these lines by heart.

Click!

As the photographers snapped their shots…

Clinton's "handsome" face hit the "hot topic" charts.

The Clinton era had officially begun.

...

Ambrella's speech, carried by Mexico's winds, spread to every corner of the world.

Especially his recounting of his daughter's experiences, which moved many to tears.

January 12th, at the Jacksonville Air Base in the state of Florida, during a training exercise, two F-15 fighter jets broke formation and flew straight into Mexican airspace!

Their intention was clear—defection!

Seven Mexican Air Force F-15E "Attack Hawks" were scrambled to the skies, where they encountered four pursuing U.S. Air Force jets.

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