Working as a police officer in Mexico
Chapter 912 - 479: You know, the forest is vast, there's everything to pick up!_2

Casare and Victor!

The former is the leader, the latter is the loyal dog. Even the director of Mexico Counterintelligence General Bureau, Jeff Bennett, and the Thirteen Protectors like George Smiley dare not provoke him.

If you upset the General, you might just get sent to an island to feed the sharks—by hand!

Then there's Kennedy-led "Conservative Faction," Horatio Herbert Kitchener-led "Radical Faction," and the majority of officers who form the "Neutral Party," also known as the "Bao Wei Faction," which just follows whatever the General says.

No need to argue about who's right or wrong. Their loyalty to Victor is unquestionable; it's simply… a matter of differing political ideologies.

Despeyre is no fool; he's sharp enough. Upon hearing the commander's comments, he instantly understood the implications. "Commander, I still have many shortcomings at work. I will consult with you and report to the Minister of Defense regularly."

Had Li Yunlong adopted such a change in mindset back then, perhaps he wouldn't have needed to test just how tough his bones were.

Walter von Brauchitsch patted him on the shoulder with satisfaction and offered a few words of comfort.

After leaving the divisional headquarters, Despeyre stood at the doorway, took a deep breath, and amidst the scent of gunpowder lingering in the air, he caught a whiff of something—nuanced, complex, and distinctly human.

"Politics, what a pile of dog shit!"

...

After the "US-Mexico Ceasefire" agreement ended, come April, the Mexican Army that had charged in began an orderly withdrawal…

Though, on their way out, they "helpfully maintained" some basic infrastructure. Unfortunately, technical incompetence led to widespread power outages.

Reportedly, the damage wasn't trivial.

This infuriated quite a few Americans, who cursed Mexico. Yet, the government kept silent, pinched their noses, and resigned themselves to their bad luck.

The United States had already wired the first compensation payment of 60 billion US Dollars.

At the time, Congress was said to have passed the treaty—authorized by Clinton—with bizarre ease. Not a single member rejected the payment or even criticized Clinton…

The atmosphere surrounding the passage of the compensation bill was eerily strange…

435 votes in favor, 0 against, and 0 abstentions…

It's clear no one's a fool; everyone understands Clinton was acting under orders.

When facing capital conglomerates, both Democrats and Republicans demonstrate startling unity.

Have you ever seen anyone purge the opposing party's financial backers upon taking office?

Nope…

Except for that redneck from Haihu Manor who later broke the rules. But he didn't have much choice, considering he himself was capital!

Still, there were minor issues during the troop withdrawal…

Over a regiment's worth of individual equipment was lost, alongside more than 400,000 rounds of ammunition!

Meanwhile, in New Mexico's Sacramento Mountains and Texas's Chisum Mountains, armed forces hostile to the U.S. Government began to emerge.

They were well-equipped…

Fought bravely and tactically, even carrying rocket launchers. Washington immediately sensed something was off and urgently notified the Mexican side.

Victor, upon realizing the situation and investigating, found out—oh, the equipment was lost. "Outrage!"

His secretary described it as pure outrage, to the point where Victor smashed a teacup.

He dismissed and investigated the key personnel involved, apologized to the United States, and promised to assist in crushing the Anti-Government Armed Forces.

This left America in a bind.

With their chest squeezed tight, choking on their rage, they looked at the X-weapon cards and swallowed it back down.

Humiliated and crestfallen, they looked utterly pathetic.

April 20th.

Clinton announced Donald Rumsfeld was taking office as Secretary of Defense—for the third time.

This was simply…

A miracle!

There was no alternative; the Secretary of Defense position had practically become a high-risk career. How many had died already?

FBI Directors, CIA Directors, Secretaries of Defense—how many rounds of replacements had occurred?

Never in U.S. history—from its founding until now—had there been such heavy losses.

Victor, worthy of the "Giant Killer" moniker. Of course, the public blames Hydra for all this.

The United States likely felt now was the time to appease Mexico. Victor's relationship with Belsaria is almost a global punchline at this point. Old Rumsfeld might rely on it to act as a bridge to soothe tensions between the two nations.

Donald re-entered The Pentagon.

His gaze was complex…

The sharpness of his once-dominant demeanor had faded, replaced by exhaustion. The ambition that was once evident in his eyes… was now spent.

Sometimes he just wanted to laugh—a high-ranking Pentagon decision-maker, soft-imprisoned by an organization. If not for Reagan and the others' sudden deaths, he might not have seen daylight again!

To some extent, the Mexicans even saved his life.

His reinstatement this time was due to capital interference, hoping he could leverage his relationship with Victor to smooth things over, urging him to stop targeting Wall Street.

They couldn't bear it anymore!

U.S. stocks had tanked miserably, the screen covered in green, evaporating trillions of dollars out of thin air!

That was the story of 1992…

Old Rumsfeld stepped into his familiar office, glanced at a photo on the desk. It was from his second term—back when he dreamed of shaping the U.S. Military into an invincible force!

Now…

Survival is the game.

"Help me connect with the Mexican side. I will speak to Victor in 30 minutes."

The secretary nodded, hesitated, "Would you like a coffee with ice, sir?"

The old Defense Minister turned back and looked at the familiar face. At first, he didn't recognize him, but now this seemed like some ordinary staff member from his previous secretary's office?

"I'm now the First Secretary in the secretary's office," the man smiled, as if catching the bewilderment in Rumsfeld's eyes.

"Thank you."

"No problem, sir. We all welcome you back."

Donald smiled warmly and nodded. His smile this time carried an air of relief, devoid of its former aggressiveness. As he watched the other man walk out of the office, he pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket, glanced at it, and tore it into pieces.

Nothing to make a fuss about.

Everything will go with the flow.

The 30 minutes passed quickly. When the phone rang, a secretary outside gestured, signaling the other side had already picked up.

Old Donald's eyelids twitched, and he answered the call, "Good afternoon, General Victor."

Office at the National Palace.

Victor, stirring his coffee, paused at the sound of the familiar old voice, then chuckled softly, "Good afternoon, Mr. Donald."

Two men, separated by nearly 40 years in age, greeted each other at this historical moment.

"Congratulations on defeating the formerly invincible United States…"

"Thank you, but may I remind you, the United States is not invincible. You're human too—you bleed. The vulnerability of capital has been fully exposed at this moment. If… you were willing to relinquish Wall Street, perhaps, you could rise from the ashes. But now, you don't have the chance."

These words left Donald in silent thought.

Mexico had set an example—America could admit defeat; nations with burdens and fears would likely follow, choosing rebellion.

Because America wasn't unbeatable.

"There is no need for such aggression. We've negotiated peace; we're friendly now…"

Victor nearly burst into laughter.

If not for the United States surrendering first, Victor might already be six feet under by now.

Thank you, Capital… Your fragility saved my life.

"I've resumed the office of Defense Secretary, and my first call is to you, Victor. I hope our nations can maintain cordial relations. This kind of extortion business must not happen again. You must know, the United States is also an X-weapons superpower—we don't want to see the world devolve into chaos."

"I admit I am a weak man. The weak must use madness to defeat the strong, sir. As long as you don't attempt to destabilize us, my X-weapons will not land on your soil. That's my promise."

Donald sighed inwardly—this slippery little fox…

"Rest assured, under my tenure, it won't happen again."

Victor responded with a noncommittal smirk.

The formulaic exchange concluded, and as they prepared to hang up, the old man suddenly said, "Right now, I'm not the Defense Secretary of The Pentagon; I'm Belsaria's grandfather. I want to ask you a question. Are you really planning to go head-to-head with America for eternity?"

"As long as America continues to harbor junkies, abduct children, flood the market with drugs harming youths, and as long as sins still thrive, no, I'm not going head-to-head with America. I'm going head-to-head with the entire world…"

"This world is filthy beyond measure! Donald, it shouldn't be like this."

The old man gasped sharply, his brow twitching. He had always thought Victor's fiery televised remarks were mere propaganda—but now? You mean it?

"You can't eradicate crime, Victor. As long as there are people, there will be crime."

"The rate at which I manufacture bullets will always outpace the rate at which they're born…"

"You want an ideal world?!"

Victor shook his head:

"No, I just want to become a sword, held over everyone's heads. I want them, in their moments of crime, to hear my name and feel terror!"

"Law? Morality? None of them carry the weight of Victor Carlos Vieri!"

...