Working as a police officer in Mexico-Chapter 1782 - 790: Victor and I Are the Real Heroes! (2)

"Looking for this?" A Mexican soldier stepped out from the shadows, holding a linked explosive device, its wires neatly cut.

"Your World War II tricks need an update."

The last psychological defense collapsed.

The leader roared wildly, shoved the terrified John aside, picked up his assault rifle, and fired madly toward the spotlight, fighting like a cornered beast.

"Da da da..."

At least three sniper rifles fired simultaneously. The leader's arms and legs were broken almost instantaneously by bullets, and the assault rifle flew out of his hands. He screamed and fell into a pool of blood, writhing like a fish with its bones removed.

The other two C team members, seeing the hopeless situation, exchanged a glance and immediately turned their guns on themselves, aiming at their temples.

"Bang! Bang!"

Two gunshots, and red and white matter splattered all over the ground. Crisp, decisive.

The scene suddenly fell silent, leaving only the moans of the injured, the crackling of fire, and the low hum of the searchlight motor. The intense smell of blood and gunpowder mixed, making one nauseous.

John and the other two prisoners slumped on the ground, their faces as pale as paper, a wet patch in their pants.

Heavy military boots approached from a distance.

Surrounded by a team of elite soldiers, Ludwig Becker walked to the center of the clearing.

He was wearing a meticulously pressed general's uniform, standing in stark contrast to the bloody battlefield around him. He glanced coldly at the corpses and prisoners on the ground, his gaze stopping for a moment on the leader's body. Squatting down, he used his gloved hand to flip open the collar's insignia, revealing an extremely hidden double-headed eagle engraving.

"Phoenix Society... hmph, bastard." Becker stood up, pulled out a handkerchief to wipe the bloodstains from his gloves, and casually tossed the cloth onto the corpse's face.

He walked up to John. The young man was trembling like a leaf in the autumn breeze.

"You see, I told you, the one who promised to send you and your sister to Canada won't show up again."

Becker's voice was calm, "Now, it's another group sending you off, and their purpose is not to save you, but to silence you. In this game, small roles like you don't even have the qualification to be a pawn, at most just some cannon fodder."

John opened his mouth but couldn't make a sound, his face smeared with tears and snot.

Becker lost interest, straightened up, and ordered his adjutant: "Clean up the site. Separate and interrogate the living prisoners, including this one. Use all necessary means. I want to know everything they know, even if it's just bedtime stories from their grandmothers. Photograph the corpses for evidence, especially those with special marks and equipment. I want a preliminary report on my desk before dawn."

"Yes, General!"

Becker turned to leave, instructing the communications officer beside him as he walked: "Connect to Mexico City, encrypted channel, I want to report directly to the Leader. Also, notify the state government press office to prepare a statement. Say that the detention center was attacked by unidentified terrorists, and our forces responded decisively, wiping out the invaders and thwarting a plot to break prisoners out and cause mass panic."

"Choose some impactful but not over-the-top footage and send it to 'Voice of Mexico,' let them report appropriately."

"Understood!"

...

Meanwhile, in Africa, Central Africa.

In an excessively lavish palace constructed of gold and marble, an all-night banquet was taking place, the opulence so outrageous it left people speechless.

The air was filled with the scents of expensive perfume, cigar smoke, the aroma of roast meat, and a hint of sweat. Servers in vibrant traditional attire wove between scantily clad, bejeweled guests as the band played deafening music.

The host of the palace, Jean-Baptiste Bokassa Engai, a tyrant known worldwide for his extravagant brutality, who seized power in a coup to declare himself Emperor, slumped in his diamond and ivory-encrusted "throne," holding a golden wine cup, his drunken eyes gazing at the enormous satellite television screen on the wall.

On the screen, edited reports of the "Voice of Mexico" on the North American "Trust Zone" atrocities and the Stone Bridge Town incident played, the images vague yet full of insinuations.

Bokassa watched with relish, occasionally emitting strange cackles.

"Look! Look!" He waved his wine cup, the golden yellow liquid spilling onto his gold-thread-embroidered robe, "These white people! These so-called civilized men! They're doing things in North America worse than how I treat disobedient animals in my zoo! Hahaha!"

His "courtiers" and "generals" around him immediately echoed sycophantically, laughter resounding.

Bokassa stumbled up and walked over to a newly imported computer from Europe, connected to the early Internet; this was his new toy, displaying his "modern" and "connected to the world" status. He clumsily tapped at the keyboard, beginning to post his "insights" on several international political forums and early social media pages in his incredibly poor French and English.

"Victor? That butcher from Mexico? At least he robs openly! A hundred times better than those European hypocrites hiding behind 'Trustee Committee' and 'humanitarian' facades! When they steal our diamonds, gold, and oil in Africa, they weren't this coy!"

"The Queen of England fainted? Great! Hope she never wakes up! How much did her ancestors steal from Africa? Now it's their turn to taste what it's like to be attacked! Victor did well! Even though it might not have been him, but I wish it was!"