Chapter 228 The locals really want Victor dead!

Chapter 228 The locals really want Victor dead!

The reporters outside were bored, and some of them were planning to pack up and leave.

I saw a group of Secret Service agents coming out carrying a "thing" with a fast food cloth covering it. What was this?

It seems like a person?

The reporters immediately smelled the smell of "big news" in the air and rushed forward, but were held tightly by the local police.

But don't underestimate the...bravery of reporters.

There was once an American reporter who went to the Middle East to meet with the "Big Brother" and interviewed him personally by sending him a plane.

They may be doing it for traffic, but what they say is for the truth!

There is no conflict between the two.

A young reporter sneaked around behind and pulled open the covering "tablecloth" while the Secret Service was not paying attention.

A group of reporters hurriedly pressed the shutter button, but suddenly realized something was wrong.

"Isn't this Chris Farley?" Someone recognized the fat man lying down and shouted in surprise.

This guy is not an ordinary guy. He is a relatively famous comedy star in the United States and has many fans.

Why was...beaten into a pig's head?

"What are you doing!" The Secret Service man pulled away the young reporter, pushed him to the ground, sat on him, and cuffed him.

The others carried Chris Farley into the car and went straight to the hospital.

"Sir! Sir, what happened inside? Why did this happen?"

"We reporters have the right to know!"

But these Secret Service guys just don't like you, so what can you do to sue them for "raping" you with their thoughts? Or are you suing them for discriminating against a transgender person like you?

At this time, it was not so crazy.

These reporters are not leaving!

There must still be news.

The atmosphere in the banquet hall was very strange. Victor "scared" everyone. In a society that claims to be civilized, a beast rushed in. What would you do?

Restless.

Victor was chatting with the New York mayor and the others very calmly.

He's not afraid of society at all.

After taking a bite of steak, he suddenly said, "Will he accuse me of harming him and then let me go to jail?"

This question…

Everyone was stunned, how can I say this?

"But I don't think I did anything wrong, sir. The drug problem is a problem for the world. As a beacon of civilization, the United States should play a role, especially since the North American Drug Association represented by Pablo dared to destroy the Statue of Liberty!"

"damn it!"

"You should put this bastard back in his fucking belly!"

"The most shameful thing is that in our United States, there are public figures like Chris Farley who still feel pity for drug dealers? Fa XXX! If I see him outside, I will kill him!"

"This is a provocation to the suffering suffered by the United States and the innocent people who died. When does the United States need this kind of human rights?"

"For drug dealers, the greatest human right is to let them die. No matter what the occasion, if anyone reveals who sympathizes with drug dealers, I will smash your head with a stick!"

"My America shouldn't be like this! Lighthouses have a need for civilization."

Victor angrily slammed his knife and fork on the plate. The sound frightened a woman at the next table to tremble.

Seeing his indignant look, the mayor of New York and several officials at the table looked at each other, MD, are you an American or am I an American?

How did you become so outstanding?

It has great potential to "be a dog".

This welcome dinner is actually a meeting that will convey Victor's attitude to Washington. Obviously, he is an active "anti-drug activist."

The mayor of New York also added a word, "extreme."

He would do anything to a drug dealer.

"Don't be too angry, Mr. Victor, every country has such scum, but we cannot deny the United States' determination to deal with drug traffickers. Pablo must die!" said the mayor of New York.

Victor nodded and stared at him, "For the United States and the world, I am willing to go into battle. I also hope that the United States can give me more help."

This is the purpose.

Give me more, I'm hungry.

"I will forward your request to Mr. Bush."

"Thanks."

Victor smiled and picked up a small piece of steak, "It tastes very good."

The dinner lasted until nine o'clock in the evening.

A group of talents came out one after another.

Impatient reporters who had been waiting for a long time swarmed over.

"Steven, Steven, what happened in there just now? Why was Chris Farley injured?"

"Tom, this is Kevin from the New York Times. Can I ask you a question?"

"Mr. Victor, does Chris Farley's matter have anything to do with you?"

Celebrities don't dare to talk much. They never take sides easily. Victor likes to be surrounded by spotlights. Just as he was about to speak, George Foreman, who was responsible for Victor's safety from the Secret Service, pushed aside the reporter, opened the car door, and half-pushed the car door open. Push him into the car.

"It seems that our Mr. George is afraid of me talking." Victor joked to Casare next to him.

After the local police pushed away the people and reporters blocking the road, the motorcade headed back to the hotel.

Victor was a little bloated, and eating too much steak was not good. When he was flipping through a magazine, he saw George Foreman turning his head suddenly, which shocked him.

"What's wrong?"

"There's a van behind us that has been following us for more than five minutes." George Foreman paused, holding down the headset, "Jack, enter from the reserve lane."

When the lead vehicle passed a bend, the steering wheel turned to the right, but suddenly there was a loud bang.

A mud truck came out of the bend and knocked over the lead vehicle of the Secret Service, blocking the road ahead.

"Retreat! Back up!"

"Group One, call for support!"

George Foreman gave the order calmly.

Casare's face turned pale, but Victor was still in the mood to pull out the cigar and hold it in his mouth. He squinted his eyes, glanced at him, and said in Spanish, "What are you panicking about!"

"The person who can kill me, Victor, has not been born yet."

The tires of the vehicle rubbed hard on the ground, and it backed up with a buzzing sound. The car behind also backed up and hit the van directly. The heads of the Secret Service employees in the car were buzzing.

As soon as the car door opened, an M2 Browning machine gun was seen, and a black man wearing a mask pulled the trigger directly!

Thump, thump, thump, thump...

The powerful recoil made his face twitch, and the scorpion tattoo on his face was shaking.

The bullet hit the rear glass, and the five employees in the car were directly killed.

The blood mist filled the car.

In the second to last car, Jason Bourne and two Mexican intelligence agents sat. When the M2 Browning machine gun swept, they subconsciously shrank their heads.

An agent opened the box in his hand, and there was an Uzi submachine gun in it.

In fact, the United States did not allow Victor's guards to carry weapons, but Mexico would definitely not agree.

Damn it, Victor must be the number one target of drug dealers and gangsters in North America. If the guards don't carry guns, what should we carry? French bread?

In the end, the United States agreed, but only allowed 3 guns.

In the end, the guards chose the Uzi submachine gun.

Short-range charge and strafing are fast.

Jason Bourne stuffed the magazine, pulled the bolt, pushed open the door, and rushed to the bunker next to him. He rolled over, knelt on one knee, and fired three bursts at Niko, who was operating the M2 Browning machine gun.

Hit the forehead and killed him directly.

Niko... ascended to heaven.

He waved hard at the driver, and the employee of the US Secret Service also cooperated tacitly, stepped on the accelerator and fell to the ground, and directly hit the rear car of the convoy, and then hit the van. The accelerator was very loud.

Pushing a way out.

The Mexican agent leaned out and fired at the van.

The car in the middle with Victor and another car took advantage of the airstrike to run away, and turned around and left the battlefield in a chic manner.

"Get in the car! Get in the car quickly!" The Secret Service agent in the co-pilot yelled at Jason Bourne twice and waved his hands vigorously.

After the latter had used up all the bullets, he took off in three or two steps and jumped directly from the window of the back seat!

This scene was clearly seen by a couple on the rooftop who were enjoying the evening breeze.

When they heard the gunshots, they were watching the excitement.

Seeing Jason Bourne's actions, the man couldn't help but say, "What a fucking sprint!"

"Did you take a picture?"

The girlfriend nodded.

"Oh yeah! Post it on the BBS, it will definitely go viral!" The man kissed his girlfriend excitedly, and ran back to the room with the video recorder.

Well... late at night, with my girlfriend and the video recorder, I don't know what to record.

Americans like to shoot blanks.

The Secret Service employee who was driving the car stepped on the accelerator and ran away.

Protecting the safety of important people is their primary purpose. The front is the job of the police. Don't think they are so powerful. There are no heavy machine guns or RPGs. All they can do is protect the target and find the big troops.

If the guards were so powerful, the president's industry would not have become a high-risk industry in Europe and the United States.

Sometimes, it's really not their fault.

It's just a matter of probability.

"Beep!!"

The unidentified person in the van honked hard to express his dissatisfaction.

At this time, the helicopter of the New York Police Department had already flown over. They received the support message from the Secret Service, and were startled and reacted quickly.

"Go, the police are here, CTMD, these foreign devils react so quickly, go!" An Asian sitting in the back, probably, wearing a mask, but the skin and eyes can be seen, almost Korean.

Only Koreans, these eyes look like... dumpling skin, soft. (Actually like X lips)

The driver looked at the sky, raised a middle finger, and drove the car into the alley.

"Sir, are you okay?" George Foreman looked at Victor nervously.

The latter smoked a cigarette and smiled, but his expression was very gloomy, "It seems that many people want me dead, but it's a pity that God doesn't want me."

"We will definitely get to the bottom of this matter."

"Thank you." Victor said with a smile, turned his head and looked at Casare, and his expression suddenly became very gloomy, "The locals are not very friendly, find some people to come over and let them see what the Mexican "gang" is like."

Casare understood.

Find some police officers to come over and give the local gangs some fear of the "North American Evil God".

Don't you like playing with guns?

Let you play!

People say that Mexico is too close to the United States and too far from heaven. In fact, it can be viewed the other way around. Who said that Mexican "gangs" cannot invade your territory?

The United States is also very close to Mexico.

Damn, it's just a short walk away.

Since we don't know who the murderer is, then blame the local gang leader.

Victor's temper will kill many people.

…

The mayor of New York was on the phone with Washington, but suddenly his secretary rushed in and told him that Victor was attacked!

"Wang Defa?!"

He stood up in shock, knocked over the coffee at hand, and soaked it all over, cursing.

"Honey? What are you talking about?" Someone shouted on the other end of the phone.

The mayor of New York quickly picked up the phone, saying in a serious tone, "Sir, Victor was attacked and a gunfight broke out."

The other party was silent for a while before speaking, "Are you injured?"

The mayor of New York glanced at his secretary, who shook his head, and he quickly said, "No."

"This matter must be investigated strictly! The public security in the United States has been getting worse and worse recently. What are the FBI doing? We must not let Victor get into trouble."

"Understood."

After the mayor of New York hung up the phone, his face was also very ugly.

"Let the police warn those bastards not to make trouble, fuck! Hand them over, otherwise, I will ask them to get out of the United States. If they don't teach me a lesson tomorrow, I will let the National Guard sweep them."

"Damn gangster bastards!"

In the office, his curses and roars rang out.

...