Working as a police officer in Mexico-Chapter 759 - 422 Show You a Big Treasure!_3

759: Chapter 422: Show You a Big Treasure!_3

759 -422: Show You a Big Treasure!_3

“What era do you think it is?

You’re still pretending to be the colonial overlord?”

Casare saw the other side about to speak and walked toward George Smiley, the latter rushing over with a grim expression.

“Don’t say another word.

Follow me and take your seat.

If you mess around, I’ll stitch your mouth to your ass.”

The Brit’s face turned green instantly.

Seeing the coldness in George Smiley’s eyes, he shuddered and shut his mouth.

This man, known in MI6 as “Fierce Dog,” was a major figure in Mexican intelligence, with a typically rugged and heroic persona.

Reluctantly, he shrank back, taking a seat at the rear with representatives from some Latin American and African nations.

The Brit mumbled under his breath, and for a moment, it looked like he was casting a spell.

Dong!

At precisely 9 a.m., the sound of Big Ben rang out.

The clear chimes echoed far and wide, audible for kilometers.

Everyone in Mexico could hear it, and all simultaneously looked up.

In the distant sky, a flock of white doves soared upward.

A symbol of peace!

On the other side of the main avenue, civilian representatives raised their hands to cheer.

A scene of tranquil mountains and rivers, peace, and prosperous living.

The senior officer in the military, Kennedy, stood up.

“Now, I declare the official start of Mexico’s 170th Independence Day military parade!”

Victor, for his part, appreciated the Chinese goose-step—tall, commanding, and masculine—but he knew it couldn’t be learned in a short period.

The Soviet style was too flashy and over-the-top, so they settled for something European.

Plain and stiff, marching with expressionless faces.

Leading off was the 1st Regiment of the 1st Marine Division, known as the “Imperial Guard.” This was Victor’s original fighting force, the epitome of elite troops, with a glorious history of campaigns stretching from the north to the south, from the Northern Country’s icy brilliance to the Southern jungles.

They were particularly renowned for being the recipients of the first collective First-class Merit issued by Victor.

Over 1,200 soldiers, clad in all-black combat uniforms, sporting monocular night vision goggles.

Their faces streaked with camouflage paint, each carried an M16A2 automatic rifle and wore masks.

Their piercing eyes resembled those of wolves or tigers.

As they passed the viewing platform, the 1st Marine Division Chief of Staff, Major General Edward Fritz Bloomburg, led the salute and shouted, “Loyalty!”

All 1,200 soldiers roared in unison.

“Loyalty!”

Victor stood up with a smile and waved his hand.

Next to him, the Venezuelan admirer clapped his hands enthusiastically, while the U.S.

representative squinted, deep in thought.

The second group was the assault division of the 141st Special Forces, arriving in “Falcon” lightweight high-speed assault vehicles, four vehicles at a time.

“Is this the Mexican Army or the U.S.

Military?” General Mason Leonard muttered as he heard someone behind him grumble.

He stiffened in his chair, snapping his eyes open.

They even have the “Falcons”?

The damn thing just came out not long ago!

The U.S.

only used it briefly during the Gulf War.

And look at these individual weapons for the 141st Special Forces—quad-lens night vision goggles?

Does the Mexican Army have this kind of money?

The U.S.

Military hasn’t even deployed these extensively yet.

“All show!” the Brit remarked bitterly, eyeing the individual equipment with disdain as he whispered to those around him.

But their smiles were painfully awkward and forced.

Mason Leonard, being the Deputy Defense Minister, was an old hand in the military.

He’d even overseen SEAL development.

He had an eye for these things.

The 141st Special Forces were no mere ornaments.

Though they hadn’t faced off against the SEALs, they had fought the Spanish Special Forces and other infiltrating troops on multiple occasions, earning a storied record.

And Mason Leonard had a premonition: sooner or later, they were bound to face off!

Victor wouldn’t be content with exerting his influence just over Latin America.

He might even step into the Middle East in the name of anti-drug operations.

This was precisely the concern of many high-ranking officials in the United States.

As subsequent units of soldiers marched past—while all exceptionally well-trained—they offered nothing strikingly novel. freewёbnoνel.com

Time dragged on.

“Next up is the SS-25 Intercontinental Missile formation.”

“????!”

Mason Leonard and many others from around the globe shot out of their seats upon hearing this!

This is impossible, inconceivable, unthinkable.

Have the Soviets lost their minds, giving them this?

Surely, it must just be a name coincidence!

But as the unmistakable silhouette of the MAZ-7917 heavy off-road transport vehicle rolled in…

The collective audience, whether watching from their TV screens or seated at the viewing platform, fell into stunned silence.

They exchanged glances, their faces betraying outright disbelief!

“This formation represents the nation’s strategic treasure, with an effective range of 12,500 kilometers!” The broadcast voice was brimming with excitement, almost trembling with emotion.

Victor smiled.

Casare smiled.

The high-ranking officials of Mexico smiled.

As for the others in attendance…

Their faces turned green!