Working as a police officer in Mexico
Chapter 851 - 457: "I will fight for a ray of light in this sky!"_2

7VS4!

Shot down 2 planes, damaged 1, and 1 fled.

The Air Force defection incident once again repeatedly humiliated the U.S. Military.

January 13.

The San Francisco Veterans Association protested in front of the government demanding an investigation into the disappearance of children between 1977 and 1991—a span of 14 years.

The leader, former Navy SEAL Benedict Neck, was shot dead by police in public!

His daughter... was one of the victims of the 1986 fishing boat explosion.

San Francisco deployed troops to suppress these veterans, and the scene was incredibly bloody.

Disheartened, the veterans shouted: "Liberate America! Liberate the world!"

They picked up weapons to resist...

Gunfire plagued the streets of San Francisco for a while.

January 15.

At a U.S. military base in Japan, a private finished his shift standing guard, then opened fire on veterans with his weapon. He was finally shot dead.

The incident resulted in the deaths of 22 veterans who bullied him, along with 6 officers.

In his diary, he wrote: "The world shouldn't be like this; we must show respect!"

January 16…

January 18…

In less than two short weeks, the influence of Ambrella completely disrupted the military internally.

A country unable to protect its own soldiers—how could the soldiers possibly lay down their lives for it?

Americans value their own interests too.

This military uproar wasn't over; a rumor began circulating.

"Mr. Donald Rumsfeld has already been quietly detained by U.S. elites led by Bohemians. His life is in great danger. He only pursued peace but was persecuted by the American authorities trying to provoke war!"

The rumor spread quickly…

It seemed as though invisible hands were pushing it along behind the scenes.

Robert Gates was embarrassed, but the spokesperson could only say the old Defense Minister was troubled due to health reasons...

However, this explanation clearly wasn't convincing.

The most shocking event finally unfolded.

January 20, 3:17 p.m.

Over 30 armed men suddenly attacked The Pentagon, wielding M16s, opening fire on the sentries, and rushing inside before engaging in a gunfight with the security personnel.

In the skirmish, two internal staff members were killed, including a 19-year-old intern.

The Special Forces that arrived later subdued the attackers.

But this incident cast a massive shadow over the United States...

The entire country entered a state of emergency!

Martial law was implemented!

Furthermore, to ease pressure within the armed forces, an entire year's bonus was issued, barely suppressing the instability in the military.

But it seemed as though everyone could see...

A massive storm was brewing right in the heart of America.

Global attention focused on the United States and Mexico.

Meanwhile, Victor called for "International Brigades," and GC International responded immediately, appealing to the world to join this "great human war!"

In Marseille, France.

Inside a remote, somewhat rudimentary brick house.

Total darkness.

You couldn't see your fingers in front of you.

An elderly, hunched figure sat down, his face lined with wrinkles of time, his eyes dim and lifeless. On the wall behind him hung a well-polished picture frame filled with people in a group photo. It read: "To the Eternal International Brigade!"

The flickering snow-filled screen of the television broadcasted Victor's call:

"When the olive branch of peace blooms again, weaving into the crown of victory for the Republic of Mexico, please return without hesitation!"

The television's background music began to play:

"We come from distant lands..."

"United by the hatred in our hearts..."

"But we have not lost our homelands."

...

The elderly man sitting on the bed quietly hummed along, his hoarse voice matching the melody. He raised his head, staring at the television. Watching Victor, who was raising his finger high on that screen, his trembling hand placed on the bed's edge, he stood up.

It was almost as if he saw...

Decades ago, he was in Spain engaged in the same most romantic endeavor humanity had ever undertaken!

"Mexico... Mexico..." the old man muttered, tears suddenly streaming down his face, "GC Ideology."

At that moment, the door opened. A weary woman entered, spotting her father trembling as he stood up. She called out urgently, "Father."

"My... my gun..."

"What?"

"My gun, I need to go to Mexico; I need to join the fight."

The woman turned her head towards the television, her face suddenly furious as she forcefully shut it off, "Don't listen to his nonsense; he just wants you to throw your life away."

"But we have not lost our homelands..." the old man sang softly as he raised his head. Clutching his daughter's arm with his hand, he exclaimed with fervor, "The Spaniard brothers held the barricades—all farmers and the proletariat."

"Fight! Fight! Fight! Margot, I must fight!"

"Kill the oppressors—the FXS!"

The world is full of evil now—child trafficking, organ harvesting, human smuggling, drug smuggling—this is not what the International Brigade dreams of. What's the difference between these atrocities and the FXS?

The woman stared at her father's demeanor, realizing his key beliefs remained unchanged. She couldn't help but cry, "Is GC Ideology really worth it, Father? Our family is suffering!"

Many descendants of the soldiers from the old International Brigade were, in fact, persecuted back then.

Their lives were anything but prosperous.

The old man fell into silence, his trembling hand reaching out to gently stroke his daughter's temple. His face showed a kind smile, "That's precisely why we must persist, isn't that right, comrade?"

Margot was actually part of France's GC organization too, but later she became utterly disillusioned because she discovered not a single patch of land in Europe and America resembling such ideals!

However, upon hearing that title again, for reasons unknown, tears rushed down her face uncontrollably. She rubbed her eyes vigorously, sniffled sharply, "Father, I'll go. I'm younger."

"I will go too; I am not dead yet. Margot, international warriors never truly die. We fight onward with unwavering beliefs, forever youthful!"

With a voice torn with fervor, the old man shouted: "Long live humanity's greatest endeavor!!"

...

The National Palace.

Casare stared wide-eyed at the "International Brigades" application numbers on paper. He looked up, "So many people?!"

The Director of Mexico's Immigration Bureau, Joseph Foucher, made no effort to disguise his grin.

"73,121 people!"

That's enough to form a reinforced regiment, though the combat ability couldn't compare, of course.

"Among these people are French, Germans, Spaniards, Asians, most aged over thirty, but there were younger ones as well."

"From a military perspective, I don't think they are fit for the battlefield."

Casare nodded and got up, "I need to go report to the boss."

"Send them thank-you letters first; don't disappoint them," he instructed Joseph Foucher, who nodded repeatedly in response.

Fat Casare's office was very close to Victor's—just up the stairs.

He knocked on the door and entered, "Boss."

"Speak your mind."

"Too many people have signed up for the Mexico International Brigades; over seventy thousand now, and more are applying. Should we put a stop to it?"

"Why stop?"

Victor looked up, motioned for Casare to sit, and handed him a cigarette, "I've never needed them to actually fight on the battlefield, but we do need the propaganda—to prove we stand for humanity."

"When the Mexico Brigades are officially formed, it signifies that the grassroots we represent are declaring war on the elite Americans represent. These are irreconcilable forces. Only by establishing this stance can we attract more talent in the future contests."

"The Soviet Union has fallen, and the United States became the dream destination for many. In their eyes, even the crap pulled by Americans smelled delightful. I need to show them what the real United States is like—poor people? Utterly worthless. They don't command even a shred of value. Whereas in Mexico, poor people and rich people alike are treated with respect."

Victor intended to promote his "legitimacy." Ever since the Soviet collapse, many had come forward trying to inherit its assets, but no one dared to point directly at the U.S. and scold it openly. Victor dared—he would inherit its legacy and crush Uncle Sam.

More importantly...

The world was just too dark—Victor, in his position, had seen far too many grisly industries he could barely stomach...

I speak law to them; they call me a loser.

Enough, I'll speak ballistics instead.

Casare's expression grew heavy, "Boss, but what if the Americans truly start a war?"

Victor paused for a moment, "CIA's Stanfield Turner submitted intelligence to Hydra. Newly appointed Robert Gates instructed them to investigate our border troop deployments. Perhaps, they are preparing to act."

Fat Casare's expression instantly shifted to one of tension.

"Abandon all illusions; prepare for battle."

"They likely won't send too large a force—forecasted between 100,000 to 150,000 troops. We've got 350,000 armed forces; the upper hand is ours."

"If those Yanks think they can devour us whole, I really don't buy it."

"Starting tomorrow, the entire country will enter a state of emergency!"

"If we lose..."

"The world will forever remain in darkness!"

"For this sky, I'll fight to bring it light!"

...

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