Working as a police officer in Mexico
Chapter 852 - 458: Taste My Fist!!

The escalating tensions between the United States and Mexico have shaken the world order.

The Soviet Union has just collapsed.

If the United States gets caught in the vortex of war now, who will dictate the world thereafter?

Mongolia?

Or Vietnam?

Perhaps... India?

In order to prevent the outbreak of war, on January 22, 1992, the United Nations began initiating proposals targeting "Mexico."

Some reputable reporters were already inside waiting, while the ones without connections stood outside clutching their microphones, hoping to catch a big shot.

"The Mexican delegation is here!"

No one knows who shouted.

Three cars were seen driving into the United Nations building as reporters outside rushed forward, frantically banging on the car windows.

"Sir, is it true that war will break out between the United States and Mexico?"

"Ambassador, sir..."

The people inside the cars showed no response, while security at the entrance stepped in to block the reporters.

The convoy pulled up in front of the United Nations building. Emerging from the tail-end vehicles were hulking men in suits, their necks thicker than their heads, and chilling expressions scanning their surroundings.

The kind of people you don't mess with, that much was clear.

The car door swung open, and out stepped Joachim Ribbentrop!

The newly appointed Mexican representative to the United Nations.

He used to work at Austria's Drug Enforcement Department. After the United Nations revoked Mexico's chairmanship, he was attacked, leading to Victor's retaliation, and the incident caused a massive uproar.

Luckily, he survived unharmed, and was promptly promoted on-site to serve as Mexico's representative to the United Nations.

Victor favored him for one key trait: stubbornness.

No matter who you are, if you piss him off, he won't hesitate to throw down.

Expressionless, he stepped out of the car, adjusted his suit, and strode proudly towards the conference hall, followed by his team.

United Nations staff encountered in the hallway stepped aside and watched them silently.

"So that's Joachim Ribbentrop?" someone whispered.

"Yeah, he's a real tough guy. I heard he survived three gunshots in Austria without a scratch."

"Bullshit. Three shots? His brains would've been blown out." Another questioned with doubt in their tone.

The staff member being challenged turned red and huffed indignantly, wanting to rebut but unable to think of what to say. Finally, with his neck stiff, he muttered, "Just wait and see; I bet there'll be a blow-up."

Joachim Ribbentrop and his team entered the conference hall. Around the round table inside, many delegates were already seated.

The old European powers—UK, France, Germany, Spain—were all present. They clearly noticed the Mexican delegation but made no move to stand, instead throwing them spiteful glares.

The atmosphere turned frosty in an instant.

"Sir, our placard is in the second row."

Joachim Ribbentrop glanced over and saw their placard—surrounded by Vietnam, Japan, India, and South Korea...

What the hell? They lumped us together with "the Youtube Five"?

His brows furrowed, his face hardened, and he descended the steps with all eyes fixed on him.

He picked up his placard from the table and marched straight to the Spanish representative. Amid the delegate's shocked and angry expression, Joachim slapped Spain's placard off the table. "Sit in the back."

"Joachim Ribbentrop!! What do you think you're doing?" the Spaniard shouted, slamming the table in anger.

"On what basis do you get a front seat?"

"We are Spain!"

"Your last aircraft carrier was bombed into the sea by us. Your soldiers are feeding sharks in the Pacific Ocean, and you have the audacity to sit up front?"

Joachim sneered dismissively, "Piss off."

The Spaniard was so furious their mouth twisted, and the British delegate next to them tapped the table lightly, "Show some decorum. This is the United Nations."

"Decorum my ass!"

Joachim Ribbentrop spun on his heel, grabbed the Brit's collar, yanked them hard toward him, bore into their eyes, and pointed a finger. "Don't think I don't know what you lot are up to. You just want to humiliate us, huh? Who the fuck do you think you are? Still dreaming you're the Empire on which the sun never sets?"

"I'll F-up your sun hasn't-set fantasy! You think we're afraid of small potatoes like you after blowing up your Eisenhower? Don't buy it? Send someone!"

Just then, a delegation from the United States entered, catching the end of Joachim's tirade. Their faces turned dark, brows twitching uncontrollably…

This was practically dragging old scars into public view.

As disgraceful as if someone congratulated them for US Marine Corps First Division breaking through the 120,000-strong line during the Changjin Lake battle... yeah, sure, "amazing."

"This seating arrangement was pre-approved," a French representative interjected.

"Pre-approved?"

"Did we agree to it?"

"Without our signatures, it's all bullshit paperwork. And these clowns here—what audacity to sit here. What now? I'm calling you out. Not happy about it? Come at me!"

Joachim pointed at himself and barked at the French delegate, "Throw a nuke at me!"

He spat directly onto the French representative's desk, "Come. Do it! You lob a nuke at me, I'll fire missiles straight at Washington. At worst, we'll all die together."

!!!

Was that even allowed to be said aloud?!

And in plain sight, in front of everyone?

The Yanks: Holy F**K!

Joachim Ribbentrop took a deep breath, narrowed his eyes, and murmured, "We have a global contingency plan. Want to hear about it?"

"If it ever comes to the brink of national annihilation, over 30 intercontinental missiles within our homeland would launch indiscriminately across the globe!"

"Then, we'll see who's willing to go to hell with us!"

Joachim couldn't keep himself from laughing aloud as he said it.

Everyone present felt chills prickling through their hearts, pupils constricting.

Such a classified plan was meant to be kept under wraps, but General Victor had commanded otherwise: secrecy served no purpose. Put it out there—let them hear it, let them grasp Mexico's resolve.

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