North American riot police: Start by arresting P. Diddy!

Chapter 244 The Spectre Party declares responsibility for the matter!

"Inform the White House spokesperson that a press conference will be held in the Rose Garden in one hour. I will personally explain the ins and outs of this incident to the public," the Black president commanded in a deep voice.

He turned to Underwood: "Frank, I'll have to trouble you again this time. I'll leave the speech to you; I only trust you."

"And the disaster relief efforts in San Francisco."

“Mr. President, if I may be so bold, this is not the most urgent matter right now.” Secret Service ace agent Michael Banning quickly stepped forward and stopped the president, who was about to head to the media room.

Banning, his expression grave, advised, "Rorschach's whereabouts are still unknown. This terrorist may very well be flying that stealth fighter to Washington, or may even have already arrived!"

The president abruptly stopped and turned to look at Jenny, the Homeland Security Director, who was frantically making phone calls: "Can that fighter jet really completely evade Washington's air defense identification zone and radar detection?"

Jenny wiped the cold sweat from her forehead: "Based on the data we have, existing radar and monitoring systems are indeed unable to effectively track it."

The president's face instantly turned ashen.

He then looked at Jack in the video conference: "Can the Counterterrorism Bureau pinpoint Rorschach's location?"

Jack reported truthfully: "In preparation for the auction of the [Staff] in two days, most of the Counterterrorism Bureau's forces have been deployed in Toronto. It's almost impossible to locate Rorschach in the short term on the mainland."

The president nodded slightly, a hint of displeasure flashing in his eyes.

Despite having the highest federal budget and the greatest power, and even possessing the powerful weapon of a super AI machine, the Counterterrorism Agency has repeatedly failed to achieve anything in the Rorschach case.

If the counterterrorism bureau hadn't actually performed meritorious service in the past, he would have liked to disband the agency directly.

“I understand,” the president said coldly. “The importance of the [Staff] is self-evident. It would be best if we could capture it; if not, destroy it directly with cruise missiles. We must not allow anyone else to get it!”

"Understood!" Jack replied solemnly and closed the video.

The president took a deep breath, sat back down at the conference table, his expression unpredictable.

The entire intelligence room was in complete chaos.

Cabinet members, military generals, and intelligence chiefs frantically dialed phones, issuing one order after another from the secret room.

Domestic terrorist attacks, the bombing of Alcatraz Island, the destruction of an aircraft carrier battle group, and the San Francisco nuclear leak—any one of these events would have shaken the nation, yet they all erupted simultaneously as if by prior arrangement.

News control, disaster relief, public opinion guidance, international public relations—everyone was rushing around like a firefighter.

This is a super storm sweeping across the entire federal government; if not handled carefully, the political careers of everyone present will come to an abrupt end.

The president sighed deeply, and after years of quitting smoking, he made an exception and asked Underwood for a cigarette.

As the smoke rose, his gaze gradually became unfocused, and his face was filled with exhaustion and confusion.

At this moment, the first African American president in American history looked so old.

However, before he could even catch his breath, the piercing air raid siren suddenly blared throughout the entire White House!

Michael Banning, who was guarding outside the door, suddenly pushed it open and entered. The urgent report from the Secret Service agents on the outer perimeter through his earpiece made his face change drastically: "Radar has detected an unidentified flying object approaching! Preliminary assessment indicates it is a rocket, and the target is the White House!"

"What?!" Everyone jumped up from their seats instantly, looking out the window in horror.

The next second, a violent explosion shook the glass.

Michael quickly explained, "It's the air defense missile systems around the White House intercepting incoming targets, but the hit rate is currently low."

His words were interrupted by another wave of explosions.

Without a word, the Secret Service chief grabbed the president's arm: "You must be evacuated immediately! Please come with me to the emergency operations center!"

The Presidential Emergency Operations Center, also known as the "White House Bunker".

This underground bunker, ordered to be built by Roosevelt during World War II, has welcomed its first owner since the 9/11 attacks.

The last time it was activated, the then-president was telling stories to children at a kindergarten in Florida, while the vice president was escorted into the bunker by Secret Service agents.

And today's president was also forced into a bunker by rockets.

"What the hell!"

The president cursed as he strode away, surrounded by Secret Service agents.

The others in the intelligence room hurriedly followed, leaving behind scattered documents and a still-flickering screen.

Through the floor-to-ceiling windows in the corridor, they could clearly see a dense barrage of missiles and rockets hurtling toward the White House from the clouds.

These death messengers, trailing flames, rained down like a storm, creating a truly horrifying scene.

Fortunately, the White House's air defense system was activated in time, and Patriot missiles were launched one after another to intercept them, detonating most of the incoming missiles in mid-air.

This white building, a symbol of American power, is surrounded by one of the world's most sophisticated air defense networks, specifically designed to counter such low-altitude attacks.

However, when a stealth fighter jet covered in a special coating suddenly swooped down from the clouds, everyone gasped in shock.

The striking optical camouflage on the aircraft made everyone instantly recognize the newcomer's identity.

"Shit! It's Rorschach Butcher!"

"Get to the bunker! This madman is carrying VX gas bombs and nanotech bombs!"

"How on earth did he break through the air defense network?! Is Washington's defense system just for show?!"

The crowd immediately fell into chaos, no longer caring about dignity or self-respect, and scrambled to escape towards the bunker entrance.

Just then, an intercepted rocket exploded over the White House, and a green toxic fumes instantly spread out.

VX nerve gas descended like the Grim Reaper!
Several special agents on the periphery who were unable to dodge in time collapsed to the ground, convulsing violently and foaming at the mouth, as soon as they inhaled the poison gas.

Immediately afterwards, poison gas seeped into the room through the cracks in the broken window. The finance minister suddenly clutched his throat, his eyes bulged out, and he collapsed to the ground amidst the horrified gazes of the crowd!

"Mr. President! Let's go!" Michael Banning ripped off his tie, covered the president's mouth and nose, and dragged him desperately toward the bunker.

Behind them, the green poisonous fog spread like a tide, leaving behind only painful groans and desperate screams.

At this moment, the White House was no longer a symbol of power, but a living hell!
Underwood rushed toward the bunker.

Although he had never been inside, he remembered the location of the bunker clearly.

He heard chilling thuds and convulsions behind him, but he didn't dare turn his head.

"I can't die! I absolutely can't die here!" He gritted his teeth, his eyes flashing with madness. "I haven't become president yet, I haven't fulfilled my ambitions!"

Driven by a strong will to survive, Underwood even overtook the president, who was heavily protected by Secret Service agents, and rushed to the bunker entrance first.

Fortunately, a team of fully armed special agents was already there, wearing the latest gas masks, and quickly distributed equipment to the fleeing crowd.

Even though they were wearing gas masks, no one dared to stop.

Only when they rushed into the bunker and watched the meter-thick alloy door slowly close did everyone truly breathe a sigh of relief.

"Huhu."

The president removed his gas mask and looked around, his face dark.

The team, which originally consisted of more than 30 people, is now reduced to less than half.

Jason HookArthur

He read out one name after another, his voice trembling.

These cabinet ministers and high-ranking government officials are now forever trapped in that gas-filled corridor.

The leaders of the free world stood frozen in place, speechless for a moment.

Underwood sat beside him, his expression equally grave.

The White House was attacked with poison gas – the first time this has ever happened since the founding of the nation!
Luo Xia is a madman. Doesn't he know what the consequences of this will be?

This bastard will become America's most notorious terrorist in history!
But suddenly, Underwood's eyes lit up, and he abruptly stood up.

“Michael,” he looked urgently at the Secret Service chief, “with the White House’s detoxification system, how long will it take to get rid of all this toxic gas?”

Michael, who was observing the situation in front of the monitor screen, turned his head: "It seems that the enemy has only dropped one VX gas bomb. If there are no follow-up attacks, it can be cleared in about an hour."

“Excellent!” Underwood immediately ordered, “Contact the media, and hold a press conference in front of the White House in one hour!”

"Frank? Are you crazy?" The president stared wide-eyed in disbelief. "You want the whole world to see the White House in this sorry state?!"

“That’s right! We need to let them see it for themselves!” Underwood slammed his fist on the table and stood up abruptly. “Think about it, Barack, terrorists have stormed the White House! Do you think the public still cares about this little thing in San Francisco? They might have thought it was a conspiracy before, but now—”

He pointed to the poison gas billowing from the surveillance screen, saying, "The country's highest authority has been attacked. The people will only be angry and united! This is our opportunity!"

He lowered his voice: "As long as we control the direction of public opinion, we can all get out of this crisis and even go down in history as anti-terrorism heroes!"

"This"

The Black president fell into deep thought.

He stared silently at the surveillance footage, and the more he watched, the more he felt that Underwood's suggestion made sense.

The risks are high, but the rewards are even greater!

just
On the screen, in the green poisonous fog of the corridor, the corpses of cabinet members lay scattered about.

The price was far too high!
“The nearest air force base and National Guard are on their way. This time, Rorschach will not be allowed to escape!” Michael reported.

But the president is not optimistic.

For the past six months, their encirclement and suppression of Luo Xia has never ceased, yet they have repeatedly failed.

On the contrary, this madman became increasingly rampant, escalating his attacks.

He has become a nightmare for all of Washington.

"Jenny, the speed of this fighter jet..." The president suddenly remembered something, looked around but did not see the director of homeland security.

"Jenny?!"

He searched anxiously and finally saw the female bureau chief lying in the corridor, convulsing and vomiting blood, in the surveillance footage.

"Fuck!!!" The president slammed his fist on the control panel.

The Secretary of the Treasury, the Chief of Staff, the Director of Homeland Security—so many important officials, all of them died at the hands of that damned Rorschach!

--------

An hour later, deep in the Cascade Mountains on the border between Washington State and Canada.

Luo Xia handed the forged ID and credit card to the old man: "With the stealth capabilities and speed of this fighter jet, it will take them at least three hours to catch up to here, which is enough time for us to split up and act."

The old man neatly put away his documents, but couldn't help looking Luo Xia up and down: "I'm curious, when did you learn to fly a fighter jet?"

"this one"

Luo Xia shrugged, his mind flashing through his mind with his already full Justice Points.

Vehicle Specialization → Omni-Vehicle Grandmaster (1/1000)

Upgrade effect: Break through the physical limitations of vehicle control, master all vehicles from tanks to fighter jets, from motorboats to space capsules, and achieve true "human-machine integration".

Now, he's more than just a fighter jet pilot.
"I'm known for learning things very quickly!"

The thrill of revenge made both of them extremely excited.

The old man silently pulled out a cigar, lit it, and took a deep drag: "Kid, what are your plans next? This isn't child's play. Next time, it won't be those third-rate agents coming for you, but elite forces like the Navy SEALs and Delta Force."

"Hahaha, that's more like it!"

Rorschach laughed, "I'm tired of playing hide-and-seek with those small fry. It's only interesting when the Federation gets serious."

He put his hands on his hips and gazed in the direction of Washington: "Today is just a warm-up. When I return to Washington, I will show the world the real thing—the fall of the White House!"

The old man shook his head and chuckled, as if he were seeing his younger self. No, even in his wildest years, he was far less daring than the man before him.

"General, what about you? Returning to your post in Africa?"

"of course."

"Aren't you afraid of being arrested for treason as soon as you get off the plane?"

"what!"

The old man silently exhaled a smoke ring. "Do you know how many military commanders stationed in America have been convicted of treason since the founding of the nation?"

Before Rorschach could answer, he answered his own question: "Not a single one! At most, they'll handle it internally. As long as Washington has any face left, they won't hold a public trial."

The old general winked slyly: "Although I can't keep command, I've been operating in Africa for many years, so I'm more than capable of being a behind-the-scenes manipulator."

Rorschach looked him up and down: "Honestly, if you were ten years younger, I'd definitely recruit you. But now..."

He deliberately dragged out his words, "It's better to retire early and enjoy a peaceful life."

"Join?" The old man narrowed his eyes. "You've formed a terrorist organization?"

“That’s right.” Rorschach gave a mysterious smile. “Spectre—just wait and see, in a few days, this name will resound throughout the world.”

The old man remained silent for a moment, then suddenly burst into laughter: "Good! Very good!"

at the same time.

In a hidden military base within the Arctic Circle.

McCullen, the leader of the Cobra organization, stared in disbelief at the television screen.

In the footage, the White House spokesperson is reading a statement to the camera.

The Black president, his face grim, announced: "According to the latest investigation, this terrorist attack was planned and carried out by the foreign terrorist organization 'Cobra,' which colluded with the notorious terrorist Rorschach Butcher to launch an unprecedented attack on our country."

McClane instinctively took off his glasses and wiped them, wondering if he had misheard.

When he confirmed that the other party was indeed accusing Cobra, the usually calm arms dealer instantly flew into a rage.

"What the f*ck?!"

He smashed the wine glass against the wall.

He's been planning arms deals at the base these past few days, when has he ever participated in such a crazy operation?

Destroying a carrier strike group, polluting the San Francisco coast, attacking the White House with poison gas, and killing half of the cabinet members—this accusation is ridiculously outrageous!

It's so big that even a cobra is too heavy to carry!

Just then, the television screen suddenly started flickering.

McCallen frowned; it was clear that someone had hacked the television signal.

The next second, a pre-recorded video began to play.

The image prominently features Rorschach Butcher's repulsive face!

"Everything our president just said is nothing but lies, deception, and a frame-up."

In the video, Rorschach displays his signature cold smile, "This entire operation was carried out independently by the Spectre Party, to commemorate those innocent soldiers who sacrificed their lives, yet were deliberately covered up by the Federation! Their lives should not be forgotten—this operation is merely the first blood debt we have repaid!"

The scene stopped abruptly.

The White House press conference, which was being broadcast live, was in complete chaos.

--------

Toronto, Canada.

Harold, who was planning this grand scheme with Rorschach, was strolling down the street with Brian by the hand.

The televisions in all the shops along the street were playing this explosive news on a loop.

He simply sighed softly and continued walking forward.

A commotion in a nearby park caught his attention.

A young man with curly hair was waving playing cards and shouting to the crowd, "Do you remember the truth I told you?"

The onlookers responded in unison:
"The closer you are, the less you see!"

(End of this chapter)