Chapter 229 Reporter Victor, are you dead?

Chapter 229 Reporter Victor, are you dead?

Chapter 229 Reporter: Victor, are you dead or not!

The busiest people tonight must be the reporters.

They run here and there.

They are disappointed that Chris Farley was sent to the hospital before they figured out why. Oh my god, there came the news that Victor was attacked when he returned to the hotel.

It is said that he is dead!

Even the large intestine and anus were blown out. The scene was extremely tragic and the body was incomplete.

A group of reporters rushed to the scene again. The FBI and local police had set up the cordon.

The scene was horrible. A car was overturned by a dump truck. The A-pillar and everything were broken. In the car behind, a body was carried out. Judging from the clothes, it was from the US Secret Service.

The body was beaten into a sieve.

But this is not what the reporters want.

"Officer, is Mr. Victor dead?"

The FBI officer who was dragged by the police officer twitched his face, looked at the other party's excitement, took a deep breath, and said, "No comment."

American reporters are eager for something big to happen. If Bush died today, they would be able to laugh. At least the news would be hot and they would get year-end bonuses.

When Kennedy's skull flew off, some people laughed and said that they thought a coconut was pried open.

The reporters who didn't get the news were obviously not satisfied. They even knocked on the door and planned to ask the residents next door.

"Wow! What a loud gunshot. My husband is deaf and he heard the crash and gunshots." An old woman said excitedly, pointing to her husband in a wheelchair next to her. The latter gestured with his hands and opened his mouth, trying to speak, and finally... his dentures came out.

"What else did you see?"

"Oh, I'm so scared, how can I dare to look? What if I stick my head out and get beaten to death?"

The reporter was about to leave helplessly when he saw a yellow-haired man with his girlfriend coming over and standing at the scene of the incident, shouting, "Hi! Ladies and gentlemen, I have a videotape with the whole incident. Who wants it? The highest bidder wins! The starting price is $2,000!"

Look!

This is what business is.

"I want it! I want it, give it to me!" A middle-aged reporter shouted loudly, and quickly took out the money and was about to hand it to the other party.

When his colleagues saw this, they shouted directly, "2,500 dollars!"

"3,000 dollars!"

"3,500 dollars!"

The rest of the tabloids saw this and quickly called their bosses to apply for funds.

Victor is more popular than some Hollywood stars.

His temper and remarks are explosive points.

Reporter colleagues, roll up!

And at this time, the Wyndham Hotel.

Victor received several "consolation calls", some from the United States and some from Mexico. Bush even called personally to say that he would investigate the matter strictly.

After hearing that he was safe, Cuauhcmotte breathed a sigh of relief and asked him to be careful.

At the end, he hesitated and told him that Kennedy had sent police to block the Spanish office in Tijuana.

When Victor heard this, he immediately raised his eyebrows and said with a smile, "Kennedy is brave, I like him very much."

Cuauhcmotte rubbed his temples with a slight headache, moved the ashtray aside, and leaned on the table, "This is a very serious diplomatic incident."

"Diplomacy? Not even diplomacy. Their Spanish intelligence department wants to overthrow me. A mutiny occurred in my territory!"

"What!"

Cuauhcmotte really didn't know. After all, Tijuana is far away from Mexico City in the south. He received a call from the Spanish ambassador, saying that the anti-drug forces surrounded the office "without martial ethics."

He was surprised to hear it.

In fact, it was mainly because he was lucky. Originally, as long as Tijuana's rebellion succeeded, the remnants of Mexico City would jump out to pull down Cuauhcmote, but the "pre-swing" had no power, so the ultimate move could not be released.

"He wants me dead, how can I let him live?" Victor said in a sinister tone, "I have to let that shitty king understand that now, this is not the era of the empire."

"Victor, what are you going to do? Don't be impulsive." Cuauhcmote asked nervously.

"It's okay, just a few people died, let the Spanish come to collect the bodies tomorrow." Victor hung up the phone directly.

He is in a bad temper now. I have been "wronged" in the United States. You Spain want me to die, the gangs want me to die, and the drug dealers want me to die.

CNMD!

I will see who dies first.

It doesn't matter whether the Americans have installed a bug in the room. Even if they hear it and tell the Spaniards, what can they do to Victor?

Can he instruct the International Court to arrest Victor?

"Call Kennedy."

Casare nodded hurriedly, not daring to offend. I just need to listen to what the boss says.

The phone was connected, and Victor took it directly. "I already know about Tijuana. You should understand that I am very angry. I have a bad temper. Mexico is not the Mexico of the past. Whoever dares to touch us will pay the price. Tell the brothers that the great white sharks in Tijuana will also be fed to fish. Throw the Spaniards in."

"As for other traitors..."

"I hope that when I come back, the whole city will be full of voices shouting for me!"

"I understand." Kennedy responded in a deep voice.

Issuing people to come to the United States to fight gangs, Victor didn't say on the phone, and he would talk about it after he returned.

Italy once relied on the "Mohist" thought to kill the mafia.

Victor lets American gangsters understand what it means, "Two batons break up a father-son relationship of twenty years" and "Dad's name appears 50 times in a three-page transcript".

Kennedy frowned on the other end of the phone.

"Boss, what did the director say?" the adjutant asked from the side.

"The boss said he was worried about the hungry great white sharks at home."

? ? ? ?

The director still cares so much about animals when he travels far away?

"Tell James Ryan to feed everyone in the Spanish office to the sharks."

The adjutant's face stiffened. Damn it, I'm just saying, how could the director, who can regard a dog as a drug trafficker, be so polite as to ask how the great white shark is doing at home?

Tsk tsk tsk...

Even if God becomes a Buddhist, Victor cannot change.

"Tell them not to wear police uniforms and dress more like drug dealers."

"clear!"

At this time, at the door of the Spanish office.

James Ryan was holding instant noodles. He drank some wine and felt a little sick in his stomach. After a few sips and drank the soup, he saw his police staff officer running over, "Chief."

"explain."

The other party lay down and whispered in his ear.

James Ryan's eyes lit up, "MD, I've been holding back my anger, and I can finally kill those Spanish people."

"Ahem, it's a drug dealer, a drug dealer." The police staff officer said hurriedly, "I've prepared the clothes."

"Yes, I am Guzman now! Detlef, bring your police officers to change into civilian clothes. I will take you to vent your anger today."

A superintendent standing at the other end responded quickly.

And in the Spanish office.

The atmosphere is getting worse and worse.

Diplomats made more than a dozen calls. People at home said they would contact Mexico, while those with close ties to Spain said they would help coordinate.

As a result, it shut down immediately.

Hold!

Do you want to be so decisive?

The biggest thing under siege is mental pressure.

The calm military attaché was also nervous at this time, "No, Spain will not give up on us."

Just as the diplomat was about to speak, he heard shouting outside the corridor.

"Who are you! What are you doing? What are you doing!"

Bang bang!

Accompanied by gunshots.

The muscles of the two people tensed instantly, and after a while, they saw a group of people rushing in.

"Sergeant James Ryan? What are you going to do?" the diplomat shouted, which confused the other party, but on second thought, he must know the top officials of the anti-drug force if they want to find trouble.

You might even sleep with his photo at night.

I also plan to play Guzman.

Apparently, it's of no use.

"Gentlemen, do you like seafood?" James Ryan grinned.

…

The sky began to whiten.

Gradually, some people started to get up early to go to work.

Many people noticed that there were many more police officers on the streets, armed with live ammunition and looking around with sharp eyes.

At a breakfast stall.

Residents pointed at the patrol officers and gossiped in lowered voices.

"Don't you know, my cousin is in the National Guard. We were playing cards yesterday and were recalled overnight. Something big must have happened." A fat man ate corn tortillas and whispered to the people around him.

"Kamais, your cousin didn't say anything?"

"Can we talk about the anti-narcotics force to the outside world? But I think it's not a big deal. Do you think it's been a long time since there was gunfire in Tijuana? Drug dealers and gangsters were escaping to death. Yesterday, armed helicopters were dispatched. , buzzing and buzzing above my house, scaring me half to death." Kamis shook his head.

Gossip is the nature of ordinary people in all countries, as long as you don't eat yourself when you eat melon.

"Stop talking, everyone, I don't want to be invited to drink tea, don't talk about this." The boss said with a smile.

The people eating breakfast around me were all neighbors. When the boss said this, they were very cooperative and stopped talking.

"Tijuana morning news finished..."

News was playing on the hanging TV, and the beautiful host was just about to finish when she saw the director running up and handing her a piece of paper.

The other party looked at him, his expression obviously startled, but he soon returned to normal.

"I just received news that the traitors led by Demetrius betrayed the anti-drug cause last night and intended to capture the city hall. They were shot dead on the spot by the anti-drug forces!"

"Nighttime military control will be implemented from today until August 17th, and no entertainment venues will be allowed to open beyond ten o'clock!"

"No one is allowed to go out on the streets after 11 p.m. Violators will be severely punished!"

In just a few dozen words, the news is really shocking.

Tijuana, a city worth 3 million, is going to implement a "restricted" curfew?

Were they rebels last night?

Damn it, is this Mexico or Africa?

The people were all dumbfounded. This kind of thing could happen in their own country? The last military coup in Mexico was in 1920. How many fucking decades has it been?

Still playing this trick.

"This bastard has a bad heart and a bad heart! Didn't Mr. Victor do something bad? Rebellion? XX!" Someone yelled, and there was an endless stream of responders.

People swearing and cursing can be seen everywhere on the streets.

But there were also people who cursed but their eyes showed disappointment. These ambitious people wanted Victor to die.

When he dies, the situation will be chaotic, and only in chaos will there be opportunities to make a fortune.

There is something to say.

The world is a makeshift troupe. Everyone wants to perform a big show on stage. Whether you can be a star depends on your ability.

Will those old stars be pushed down by the new wave?

It also depends on your ability.

Don't be caught up by others, and don't be pulled down by others.

You have to applaud and cheer under the makeshift troupe. If the sound is not loud enough, the boss above can't hear it, and you don't even have the chance to be a customer.

So don't say Victor is cruel.

Whoever sits in this position is more cruel than him.