Working as a police officer in Mexico.

Chapter 537 We just want an answer!
Mexican Army Command School, California.

Santos, who already had the rank of major, looked much different.

This young man from "Guadalcanal" has become much more mature, he is over 170cm tall and has a tough face.

He is also Victor's "godson".

He once served in the 223rd Regiment of the National Guard, and later joined the "Cleanup Department", but was later sent to a military academy for further studies. At that time, he was still a lieutenant.

This major's rank was not earned through connections. In the Mexican military academy competition, he broke the record with a time of 35:18 seconds, wearing 40 kilograms of full armor, and won first-class merit. He also ranked first in freehand climbing, basic drawing, and combat command...

Reported directly to his superior and was promoted to major.

He is also the only school-level student in the Army Command College.

When Victor learned the news, he called him and asked him to continue his studies in the military academy.

Just as the teacher was dismissing the get out of class and he was about to go to the playground for exercise, the department instructor (a major) ran in and said, "Everyone, sit down, class leaders, adjust the channel, the head of state is going to give a national speech."

After saying that, he ran to the next class.

Santos was startled, but quickly stood up and shouted to everyone to sit down. Military academy is different from local schools. If you don't obey orders, you will be beaten, and you will be expelled from the school. Everyone sat up straight. He turned on the TV with the remote control and tuned it to the national channel.

I saw that the camera was pointed at a ruin, and in the front was a table with a microphone hanging on it.

Santos and others suddenly felt something was wrong.

It was drizzling at the scene, and there was a depressing atmosphere.

Victor was wearing a black suit and standing in the rain. His voice came through the TV.

"Today, our compatriots, our lives, and our freedom have been subjected to a series of premeditated and inhumane terrorist attacks. Many innocent lives were killed. They were looking forward to another day of life. Their parents, wives, and husbands were waiting for them at home, but all of this was destroyed in a despicable and shameless way!"

"They just want to live, what's wrong with them!"

"See behind me?"

"The bastards of the Medellin Cartel, the Cali Cartel, the Israeli Mossad and the Central American "Contra" organization created this disaster. They are killing us wantonly, treating us like pigs and sheep!"

"I am not here today to voice useless condemnation, but to seek respect for the 277 compatriots who died and the 1 million Mexicans who are still alive."

Victor's voice was deep, "I am declaring war here!"

"I will indiscriminately attack everyone in the above organizations. I will find you. Your parents will die, your brothers will die, your wives will die, your children will die, including you. You will watch them die one by one in front of your eyes."

When Victor read out the names of these organizations, many of the European and American representatives standing below suddenly looked unhappy.

Hearing his words full of murderous intent, everyone felt a chill down their spine.

This is going to kill the whole family.

"Israel, I have missiles, but may your God protect you!"

After Victor finished speaking, he walked away without even turning his head.

The reporters below were busy taking pictures of his back.

This…

Declared war on Israel?
This is definitely a front page headline!

The people from Dongda and Cuba stood side by side below, with serious expressions. They looked at each other but did not speak at the same time.

What can they say?
Persuade Victor to accept political mediation?

Then Victor wouldn't be Victor anymore.

At the Mexican Army Command College, Santos watched the tragic scene played on the camera and the low narration, clenched his fists tightly, his breathing became a little disordered, and then he stood up.

"Santos, where are you going?" a familiar classmate asked hurriedly.

"Go to the principal's office and apply to join the combat unit. I'm going to kill all those drug dealers and Israelis!"

"Go together, go together."

They were still teenagers, with blood rushing to their heads, and rushed towards the principal's office. In the corridor, they saw many people coming out of the classroom.

There was also a classmate from a different class who was screaming and beating his chest, and someone next to him was constantly comforting him.

"That's Adolf from Class 6. I just heard that his sister and nephew were killed in the explosion..." said a classmate standing behind Santos in a low voice.

"Son of a bitch!"

He led his classmates into the office of the principal, Robert O'Rourke, and saluted him, "Teacher, we want to go to the front line, to the battlefield!"

"I haven't received any news. You are still students." The old principal shook his head.

Santos didn't argue. He looked at the other person deeply, turned around and left.

"Where are we going now?" his childhood friend Camposter, who was also a captain, asked beside him.

"Go to the playground. I want a microphone."

Campost nodded vigorously and took a few people to the teacher's office... to steal one out. When he arrived at the playground, Santos had already walked onto the flag-raising platform.

Handing him the microphone, Campost had a hunch that what followed would go down in school history.

"classmates!"

"When the country is humiliated to such an extent, are we military academy students still hunched over our desks in school?"

"If I can't defend the dignity of my country and our nation, then why should I study in this military academy? I never study to become an officer. I study to make everyone understand that Mexico will never surrender!"

Gradually, more and more people came. Many people in the corridor looked down, and on the playground, many people slowly approached.

"Führer Victor once said: If we lose our humanity, we lose a lot; if we lose our animality, we lose everything. This dirty and terrible world needs us to smash it with our fists!"

"Those bastards who are in league with the drug dealers are trying to use terror to make us surrender. Let's make them realize who is the scariest."

“I don’t know which countries helped and laughed at us when we were under the shadow of drug traffickers, but I know that when the Fuehrer’s bullet passed over my head, the rope around my neck snapped.

Santos actually had some shadows of his godfather. He looked down and said, "If I fail, please let me die in battle, but I will not fail. There are only two possible outcomes. Either we kill all the drug dealers, or the drug dealers defeat us again. If we fail..."

His eyes narrowed slightly, "Then use the Mexican flag to wrap my body. I want to die in front of my country!"

"Long live victory!"

“Long live drug prohibition!”

In the entire Army Command School, all the students were excited, raising their hands and shouting loudly, their voices echoing through the sky.

"Principal, should we stop them?" the dean asked softly.

Principal Robert O'Rourke stood by the window with a cigarette in his hand. He looked deeply for a long time before speaking, "If we lose our blood, then what we train are not soldiers, but sheep, and sheep can only be slaughtered."

The Dean of Studies nodded. "Do you want to approve their application?"

"Wait for the news. It is the duty of a soldier to obey orders!"

Principal Robert O'Rourke looked at Santos quietly, with a hint of satisfaction in his eyes.

At least…

He is patriotic.

……

Mexico declared war on two drug cartels, an anti-communist armed group and a country at once, which immediately made headlines in major countries around the world.

At 17:20 in the evening of the th, the spokesperson of the Mexican Counterintelligence Directorate released four photos to the media.

The first photo shows the three children and wife of Mossad chief David Barnea. "We will kill them next."

"We will announce where his family lives. Please tell David Barnea that you can prepare to cry."

After saying this, he left calmly.

Some reporters wanted to rush forward but were stopped by the bodyguards on the scene.

On the screen at the scene, the addresses of four people slowly appeared, even down to the building number.

"Too arrogant."

A Syrian journalist muttered, but then broke into a grin, "But I like it. Viva Victor!"

"Tyrant, this is a tyrant, this is uncivilized butcher behavior!!" There was still someone brave enough to shout loudly, he was an Egyptian reporter.

"Kill you, the traitor of the Allah X world!" The Syrian reporter rushed forward and punched him, venting his dissatisfaction with the loss of territory and Israel.

You know, Egypt is the first and only Arab country to establish diplomatic relations with Israel in 1979. This is simply a shame.

The two teams of reporters started fighting each other.

Finally, the Mexicans nearby also came on to help. Anyway, the Egyptian reporter was carried out and was kicked in the face more than a dozen times.

Hidden in an inconspicuous old brown building is the Haidian area at the southern end of Tel Aviv, Israel.

This is the headquarters of Mossad.

When Victor first declared war, the news was received here and intelligence was prepared for the army.

Mossad agent Claudius Durant knocked on David Barnea's door and saluted him, "Director!"

David Barnea's face was solemn. "Can I trust you, Claudius?"

"Of course! You are my guide and mentor!"

The other person's expression softened slightly, "I want you to protect my family."

"They are all in Israel. Do we still need to worry about their safety?" Claudius Durant asked with a frown.

David Barnea sighed, "You don't understand. Actually... I don't trust some of our people because they might be working for Mexico. We have to admit that the Mexican intelligence agency that can hide people in the White House is much better than us in certain aspects."

This is true.

Although outsiders do not know about the "White House Presidential Office Shooting Incident", they, the Mossad, know something about it.

Bush Sr.'s executive secretary and national security adviser, Bahash Johnson, turned out to be a pawn of Mexico and shot and killed the then defense secretary.

When David Barnea learned the contents, he was stunned.

Claudius Durant looked at the other party's pleading eyes, hesitated, and nodded, "Leave it to me!"

"Thank you very much." David Barnea was very moved and shook his hand. He also hinted to him that he would definitely promote him.

Claudius Durant walked out of the office respectfully, took the "weapon collection card" and went to receive an Uzi submachine gun and 4 magazines.

This is specially approved by the director.

The firepower must be sufficient.

It was impossible for the Mexicans to send a large force, but if it was just one or two people, there was no need to worry at all. As soon as the gun was fired, the nearby militia would definitely arrive.

This is Israel’s joint defense mechanism.

Claudius Durant drove a shiny Mercedes-Benz out of the headquarters and headed towards his destination.

The other party lived very close, about 6 kilometers away from the Mossad headquarters, but what was strange was that when he got out of the car, he did not put away the Uzi submachine gun, but just carried it with him. After getting out of the car, he walked to the trunk and took out two HGB85 grenades from a box.

Um... defensive grenades, 400 steel balls.

He walked to the door and rang the doorbell. No one answered. He took out his cell phone and called the chief to tell him about it. The chief said, "I'll call them."

After hanging up the phone, four or five minutes later, the door slowly opened a crack and a young boy appeared, "Claudius!"

His tone was relaxed, and it was obvious that he had met the other person before.

Claudius Durant forced a smile and nodded, "The director asked me to protect you."

"Thank you, thank you!" The boy kept thanking as he opened the door.

"Where's your mom?"

"They are all in the basement, I'll go call them." The boy didn't think much about seeing the acquaintances because they were so familiar.

We have known each other for at least ten years.

Always following behind my father.

He walked to the basement entrance and called out, but no one answered. He scratched his head and said, "Claude, wait a minute. I'll go call them."

He climbed down the stairs, clambering down.

The smile on Claudius Durant's face slowly faded. He walked to the entrance of the basement, took out a grenade, and his brows trembled slightly.

"I have followed you for ten years. Why do you still let me be an ordinary agent? I have followed you for ten years! Ten years!!!"

"Every time they tell me that they will give me a promotion, and then..."

“Why am I always missing?”

He roared in a low voice, pulled the ring of the grenade, and threw it downwards, boom!

With one sound, the ground shook a few times.

"Kill you... Kill your whole family. The Mexican intelligence agency paid me 200 million U.S. dollars and asked me to be the Middle East intelligence ambassador. Kill your whole family!"

Claudius Durant had long harbored a grudge.

Loyalty is the least reliable, and requires both kindness and severity.

Your boss makes you sit on the bench for ten years, but still promises you all the dirty work you can do. You get depressed after two years, so it's not easy for you to persist for ten years.

Claudius Durant took out another grenade and threw it down. After the explosion, he climbed down the escalator and saw four bodies lying in the basement. Their limbs and arms were blown everywhere and blood was flowing everywhere.

All three children were dead, and David Barnea's wife stretched out her hands with blood coming out of her mouth.

He pulled the bolt.

Thug, tug, tug, tug!

A magazine of extended 40 bullets swept over, turning the opponent into honeycomb briquettes. Not satisfied yet, he stomped hard on the opponent's head, which was like a watermelon splitting. The pungent smell of blood made Claudius Durant tremble all over. He turned back and wanted to climb up the escalator, but his hands shook several times due to excitement.

When he was about to go out, he ran into the police who had rushed over after hearing the news. The two sides exchanged fire. In the end, he ran out of bullets and did not even get the so-called "Mexican support."

I understood it instantly...

I was so angry that I lost my mind.

boom!
As the sniper fired a shot.

"Victor, fuck me!"

was Claudius Durant's last thought.

........................

(End of this chapter)