Working as a police officer in Mexico.

Chapter 695 A New Force!

In Toronto, a Canadian city far removed from the political maelstrom.

Ethan Hunt, nicknamed "Cannon Man," is hunting for food.

Of course, this was the name given to him privately by Jeff Bennett, the head of Mexico's counterintelligence agency.

He once famously said, "Never offend him, or he'll become your father."

He is now a key deputy in Hydra's intelligence structure.

Without the constraints of his official status, he was completely unbridled.

His body seems to be made of iron.

He had just finished soothing Dorothy Rodham, the 74-year-old "old darling" in Washington who was infatuated with him, on the phone with a sweet voice, promising her another secret date and "soulmate talk," since she had actually paid him.

He's not a scumbag who gives money but doesn't offer emotional support; he's a "soul comforter."

Like Lu Ziqiao.

After hanging up the phone, the playful smile on his lips turned to the waitress in the bar, whose waist was supple and whose eyes held a hint of wildness.

To deal with this kind of young girl, he doesn't even need to use too many techniques. A touch of melancholy, a few seemingly philosophical but ultimately meaningless words, plus the occasional glimpse of an expensive watch and the dangerous charm honed from his overseas experience, is often enough.

Tonight was no exception.

A few casual words, an "unintentional" touch, a brief conversation about "freedom" and "escape"—and the prey is hooked.

An hour later, in a room at a high-end hotel in Toronto.

The violent collision had just subsided, and the air was filled with the mixed smell of hormones and alcohol.

Ethan leaned against the headboard, lit a cigarette, and several fresh red marks remained on his muscular arms.

The waitress who called herself "Lina" was taking a shower in the bathroom.

Ethan glanced around the room listlessly, his gaze landing on the mismatched canvas bag she had tossed on the chair.

The bag wasn't fully closed, revealing a jumble of items inside: cosmetics, a crumpled pack of cigarettes, and a small square simply wrapped in colored tin foil.

The way tin foil is wrapped is very special.

Ethan raised an eyebrow.

The intelligence agent's instincts overcame the languor that followed the passion.

He extended two fingers and precisely picked up the small square of tin foil, then gently sniffed it under his nose.

A very faint, slightly sweet, and strangely chemical-smelling taste.

Just then, Lina came out wrapped in a bath towel, her wet hair plastered to her forehead. Seeing what Ethan was holding, her expression changed slightly, but she quickly regained her nonchalant demeanor and walked over to take it back: "Hey, it's someone else's stuff, don't touch it."

Ethan easily dodged with a flick of his wrist, then, with a cigarette between his other hands, he lightly tapped the foil packet with the cigarette butt: "What's this? New candy?"

His tone was teasing.

Lina pursed her lips, a hint of smugness in her voice: "You don't understand, this is new stuff, an 'extraterrestrial artifact,' it's incredibly powerful."

"An object from outer space?"

Ethan repeated the name, which sounded unfamiliar. "Who did it? Those Mexicans don't have time for new tricks right now."

He asked that on purpose.

"Mexico? Colombia?"

Lina chuckled, drying her hair with a towel as she said, "That's ancient history! Their territory is almost emptied out, and supplies are tight right now. These guys are from the east, those Asian guys, they're really fierce."

She leaned closer, lowered her voice, and spoke with a secretive air: "I heard it was made by a chemical genius nicknamed 'Second Brother.' It's much more powerful than the old stuff, and it's not easy to detect."

Ethan's heart skipped a beat, but his face remained calm. "Second Brother"? The Asian Drug King? That's new information.

Although Hydra has a wide reach, its infiltration of emerging powers in Asia is still ongoing.

"Oh? That's interesting." Ethan feigned interest, shaking the package. "How does it taste?"

"This is heavenly!!"

Lina's eyes lit up. "And the distribution channels are amazing. I heard a big shot named Ye Zhenli is helping to distribute the goods, bringing them directly from the sea. Getting them into Canada is super easy. This stuff is starting to become popular in Toronto now."

Ye Zhenli?

Ethan recognized the name: a Chinese businessman who straddled the line between the pharmaceutical industry and the underworld, colluding with emerging Asian drug lords to seize the North American market while Mexican drug cartels were struggling…

It is said that it was also sponsored by the CIA and the Pentagon, and originally planned to establish a warlord army, but it seems to have become much more low-key now.

This is no longer just a simple packet of drugs.

This is a signal that the landscape has changed!

Ethan Hunt tossed the package of "alien stuff" back to Lina and stubbed out his cigarette.

"That sounds exciting." He gave a nonchalant smile, as if the conversation had just been another flirtation. "Maybe we can try it next time we have the chance."

Lina took the foil packet, a hint of smugness flashing in her eyes, clearly believing that her knowledge and connections had attracted this mysterious and charming man.

Before she could say anything more, Ethan had already nimbly rolled out of bed.

“Unfortunately, I suddenly remembered I have an urgent transoceanic meeting,” he said in a slightly apologetic tone as he quickly pulled on his trousers. “You know, business is often beyond our control.”

His movements were fluid and swift, displaying an efficiency born of rigorous training.

He put on his pants pretty quickly.

Lina didn't even have time to react further; she just watched in astonishment as he put on his shirt, buttoning only a few buttons haphazardly, and picked up his coat and car keys.

"Keep in touch, little wildcat."

He leaned down and left a perfunctory kiss on her forehead.

The door closed gently, leaving only Lina and the lingering ambiguity and lies in the room.

The woman paused for a moment, then burst into a tirade, "Hey! Aren't you going to pay me?"

...

Half an hour later, in a soundproof phone booth at a noisy 24-hour internet cafe in downtown Toronto.

Ethan slipped a few coins into his pocket and dialed an extremely complex encrypted number that had been routed through several countries.

The call connected, but there was only the sound of silent breathing on the other end.

“The wind has changed.”

This is the pre-arranged security code.

After a brief hiss of static electricity, Reinhard Tristan Eugen's voice came from the other end.

"Hey buddy, you changed your number again?"

"There always needs to be something new, like hearing that a new synthetic drug has been discovered in Toronto, codenamed 'Alien Object.' The source points to Asia, not the traditional Colombian or Mexican channels."

Ethan spoke quickly, but enunciated each word clearly: “The producer, codenamed ‘Second Brother,’ is said to be a chemical genius. The key diffusion node involves a Chinese businessman named Ye Zhenli, who took advantage of the window of opportunity when Mexican influence was weakened to infiltrate Canada on a large scale through maritime channels.”

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone, as if they were digesting and assessing the weight of this information.

Reinhard Eugen's voice remained steady, but revealed a hint of interest: "I recognize the name Ye Zhenli. Evidence level?"

"Indirect evidence comes from a low-level contact, but the tin foil packaging is professional, the odor components are special, and the narrative details follow a logical chain."

Ethan replied, "I think it's highly credible. This is no longer a small-scale street fight; it's the entry of organized, technologically advanced, and financially powerful new players. The vacuum left by the continuous crackdown on established Latin American groups is being filled by more cunning and efficient Asian groups, especially those of Chinese descent. Their products iterate faster, and their chemical structures may be more complex, making them difficult to track and detect."

“I understand,” Eugen replied simply. “What do you need?”

"Authorize the mobilization of Class B resources to investigate the following matters: 1. The circulation of extraterrestrial objects in major Canadian cities (Toronto and Vancouver) and the west coast of the United States."

"Second, the true identity and background of the second younger brother, and the organization behind him."

"Thirdly, Ye Zhenli's recent shipping records, financial transactions, and connections with Asian entities."

Fourth, have there been reports of similar new types of drugs appearing in European ports? Ethan quickly listed the requirements.

“I’m authorizing you. Keep communications silent and pass reports through the old channels.” Eugen pointed a headache. “These Asians are more ruthless than any criminal group. Be careful.”

"Understood." Ethan nodded.

A busy tone came from the other end of the phone; Reinhard Eugen had hung up. The encrypted line was cut, leaving only the muffled game sounds and keyboard clattering from the internet cafe outside the phone booth.

Ethan Hunt put the receiver back in its place, leaned against the plastic panel of the cubicle, and lit a cigarette.

Amidst the swirling smoke, he frowned, carefully processing the information he had just received.

"Extraterrestrial Being," "Second Brother," Ye Zhenli... These names, when strung together, point to a rising, dangerous, and unfamiliar force. The way Asian forces intervene is completely different from that of Latin American drug lords; they are more secretive, more technologically advanced, and more difficult to track.

This is far from ordinary drug smuggling; it may involve more complex international relations and capital flows, and could even shake Hydra's operations and interests in certain regions.

This matter is indeed extraordinary.

A sudden urge to urinate struck.

He hadn't felt it when he was tense, but now that he'd relaxed, he felt the urgency. He stubbed out his cigarette, pushed open the door of the phone booth, and headed towards the not-so-pleasant-smelling restroom deep inside the internet cafe.

The bathroom was dimly lit and smelled strange, with a mixture of disinfectant and years of grime.

Ethan unzipped his pants and started urinating into the urinal, his thoughts still lingering on his "second brother" and Ye Zhenli's affair.

Suddenly, the door behind me was pushed open and then slammed shut with a bang, followed by a soft click as it was locked from the inside.

Ethan paused, his instincts as a secret agent instantly putting him on alert. He maintained his original posture, only slightly turning his head to glance back out of the corner of his eye.

The man who entered was not very tall. He was wearing a pair of slightly tight khaki overalls with a plaid shirt underneath. His eyes were somewhat unfocused, and he had a strange, tentative smile on his face.

Instead of heading to another urinal, he stood not far behind Ethan and began slowly and methodically pulling at his two suspenders.
The movements were slow and deliberate, carrying a clear suggestive meaning.

Ethan felt a chill run down his spine.

He finished, zipped up his pants, and turned away expressionlessly.

Seeing Ethan turn around, the man's smile widened. He even took a half-step forward, lowered his voice, and asked in an uncomfortably intimate tone, "Hey, buddy, wanna play?"

Fuck!
"Fuck your mother!"

Ethan cursed and moved with lightning speed.

He didn't bother with any nonsense. He grabbed a wet, dirty mop leaning against the wall with his left hand and stabbed it mercilessly into that expectant face!

"Ugh!"

The man had no idea about this sudden attack, or rather, this "face wash".

The sticky, foul-smelling sewage from the mop head instantly splattered his face, choking him and causing him to stagger backward, screaming in pain.

But it's not over yet.

Ethan's right hand shot out almost simultaneously, precisely grabbing one of the other's straps and pulling him sharply in front of him. At the same time, his right knee, whipped up by the wind, thrust upwards with tremendous force!

“Ouch——!!!”

A more shrill, almost distorted scream echoed through the small bathroom. The man's eyes bulged out, his face contorted in extreme pain, his hands suddenly clutching his groin, his body curling up like a boiled shrimp, and he collapsed to his knees, convulsing all over.

Ethan loosened the straps, as if he had touched something extremely dirty, and even rubbed his hands on his trouser leg in disgust.

He looked down at the man groaning in pain on the ground, stepped on his shoulder to prevent him from collapsing, and then bent down.

"Listen, you scum."

He pressed down slightly with his foot, causing the other person to wake up from the pain. "I like women who are curvy and passionate, understand? Not a boar like you who goes around in heat in overalls."

"If you can't control your two ounces of flesh next time and go around playing with other people, I'll completely ruin it for you, so you can only squat to pee from now on. Remember what I said."

After saying that, Ethan Hunt casually withdrew his foot, straightened his slightly disheveled shirt collar, and acted as if he had just casually disposed of a bag of trash.

He didn't even glance at the man curled up on the ground again, opened the locked door, and walked straight out, leaving behind a mess and suppressed wails.

Outside the bathroom door, two young men who were about to enter were frightened by Ethan's aura and the faint sounds of pain coming from inside, and they didn't dare to go in.

Ethan ignored them, striding through the noise of the internet cafe, pushing open the glass door, and disappearing into the still bustling Toronto night.

……

September 16, 1995, Mexico's Independence Day.

The Zócalo (Constitution Square) in Mexico City was bathed in blazing sunshine and teeming with people. The square was already a sea of ​​green, white, and red, with tens of thousands of people waving national flags, their faces beaming with festive joy and pride.

The makeshift viewing platform was filled with Mexican government officials, representatives from various sectors, and foreign diplomats.

In the press area, journalists from major media outlets around the world were also moved by the grand scene.

The celebration proceeded as planned.

President Lunacharski delivered a passionate speech, reviewing the history of independence, praising the national spirit, and commending Mexico for its unprecedented unity and prosperity under Mr. Victor's leadership.

The square echoed with deafening shouts of "Viva México!" and "Viva Víctor!"

Just as Lunacharski finished his speech and the host announced that the next segment would be the release of peace doves and a parade of floats, reporters were already busy organizing their notes, planning how to report on this celebration that showcased Mexico's new spirit—

A slight commotion suddenly arose behind and to the side of the viewing platform.

Several Mexican security personnel quickly cleared a path.

Immediately afterwards, the two figures, surrounded by security personnel, walked side by side to the front row of the viewing platform.

When the reporters' cameras instinctively focused on these two people, it was as if a silent bomb had been dropped on the entire press area!

Click! Click! Click!

After a brief silence, there was the frantic sound of camera shutters clicking, almost like the film was about to explode!

Countless cameras were focused intently on the scene that left almost everyone speechless:
The man standing next to Victor was none other than George Walker Bush!
“My God! It’s President Bush!” an Associated Press reporter exclaimed.

"When did he arrive in Mexico?!"

"How did they all end up together?!"

"Quickly! Publish the news! Issue an urgent news report immediately!"

The press area erupted in cheers! Telephone lines were snapped up as reporters screamed their lungs out to the editorial department back home, recounting the earth-shattering scene. All telephoto lenses were fixed on the two main figures in the front row of the viewing platform.

The whole world is watching them through the camera.

Viktor seemed completely oblivious to the commotion below and the blinding flashes of the cameras. He turned his head and casually spoke to Bush, even pointing a finger at the grand parade in the square, as if enthusiastically describing the celebration.

George W. Bush nodded in response, sporting that carefully crafted politician's smile.

He would occasionally say a word or two, but he was clearly distracted.

This scene is so impactful, so surreal!
Less than 48 hours earlier, the two countries were on the brink of war over the Texas issue, and the world was worried that a large-scale conflict would break out on the North American continent.

Now, these two key figures are standing side by side on the viewing platform of Mexico's Independence Day celebrations, chatting and laughing.
The deals and compromises reached behind the scenes are enough to drive any political analyst crazy!

The experts were baffled.

The military band played a melodious and peaceful tune.

On one side of the square, staff opened the huge cage door.

In an instant, thousands of snow-white peace doves took flight, like bursting white clouds, circling above Constitution Square, skimming over the national flag under the sun and the cheering crowds, and finally scattering into the azure sky, a magnificent and hopeful scene.

After the flock of pigeons, the grand parade of floats began.

“Buddy, Latin America is big enough to accommodate both the US and Mexico,” Victor suddenly said.

Upon hearing this, Bush looked at him but remained silent.

You have a bad temper, you're bold, and everything you say sounds awesome.

If you say Washington is Mexican now, I won't argue.

……

(End of this chapter)