Working as a police officer in Mexico

"Eternal azure!"

Jonathan Pannier stepped out of the city hall, raised his head, and looked at the grim sky. A sliver of sunlight struggled to break through, trying to illuminate the world.

Some people were polluting this world.

Similarly, there were those trying to break free from it!

He turned his head and happened to catch Victor standing by the window. Their eyes met for a moment, nothing was said, and nothing needed to be said.

Jonathan Pannier got into his car and drove away.

"Camarada (Comrade),"

Victor, with a cigarette in hand, suddenly thought of this word.

All for keeping this sky free of drugs.

Finding someone who shares your ideals is really hard.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Victor always felt that sometimes he was like an "idealist," desiring a utopia. But looking around, CNMD, it's all shit.

A ragtag assembly of troops.

"Boss, are we really going to send someone to Colombia?" Casare spoke up from the side.

He didn't feel comfortable speaking bluntly while Jonathan Pannier was present.

People like him come to "bewitch" our boss, and as the "Grand Steward," he would never allow such people to create "disasters for the nation."

That's Colombia for you!

Mexico in North America, that guy in South America. Don't think that just because they're both in Latin America, they're alike – not at all.

The straight-line distance by airplane is almost 4,000 kilometers.

How dangerous is this area?

Well, let's put it this way, even the U.S. Military had been robbed while stationed in Panama, and there's a rumor, mind you, just a rumor, that a big and strong American bloke was sexually assaulted while out shopping.

Hmm...

According to what he said afterward, four or five men pounced on him and had their way!

He enjoyed it.

This incident appeared in a CIA report.

In the "Silver Triangle" region, if Monk Tang came by, he'd be beaten to a pulp; and if the Bull Demon King didn't plow three acres of land, you think rest is an option?

Your legs would be broken.

Casare was somewhat opposed to this operation.

Of course, what mainly mattered was the boss, and his opinion was highly aligned with the big boss's.

"Those drug traffickers are too arrogant, thinking they can take me down just by joining hands? As if a pile of trash could turn into diamonds?"

Victor spoke indifferently, but with scorn in his tone. He extinguished his cigarette against the wall, "With DEA taking the lead this time, we ought to cooperate, but control and command must be handed over to us. I don't trust the Americans very much."

As he said this, he turned his head, "Their bottom line is that they have no bottom line."

"Call Kennedy and Zolf Sherman for me."

Casare nodded and left the office.

Victor lay back in the boss's chair, thinking the Governor sure knew how to enjoy life; just sitting in it made one feel sleepy. Yet, his mind wondered if he should ask for more benefits from the United States.

Maybe find some more support.

He had ambitions of establishing an air force.

Who could bring him such benefits?

Suddenly, a name crossed Victor's mind.

"Belsaria Ramsfield!"

The female journalist who had interviewed him.

The Mexico International News Department had investigated her, but her profile was peculiar, clearly tampered with. According to Jason Bourne, she was either rich or noble.

In the United States, that surname was very intriguing.

Of course, it might just be a coincidence, right?

But if she really was from the Rumsfeld family, then no matter what, he would have to find a way to win her over.

The romantic life of adults was always a matter of advantage and disadvantage.

Someone like Victor, who had long been "hopping" in society, knew well that some things could be used for personal gain.

Like marriages of those in power.

About a few minutes later, Casare called Kennedy and the others back to his office. As they entered, they saw Victor sitting quietly with furrowed brows.

"Boss," Fat Casare said softly.

"What do you guys think it takes to chase a girl?" Victor suddenly asked, lifting his head.

????

You called us here to ask this?

The three looked at each other and then awkwardly at the same time.

All TMD are singles, what the hell would they know?

Seeing their expressions, Victor shook his head; it seemed he'd have to take the chance to ask the "God of Guns" Ethan Hunt next time.

That guy's professional.

"Let's get down to business. Repeat the issue regarding Jonathan Pannier to them," Victor said, looking at Fat Casare.

So, Casare relayed the DEA's plan in full, and Kennedy and Zolf Sherman raised their eyebrows.

A special military operation in Colombia!

Could it be that thrilling?

"What do you think our chances of success are?"

Kennedy thought for a moment, "Boss, I think it has a high potential for success. Parachuting into Santa Fe de Bogota outskirts for a surprise attack, then moving towards the Ministry of Justice building. If we don't take prisoners, there's a good chance we'll succeed."

"But… we probably won't make it back."

"Boss, let EDM go. I'll lead the team myself. We enjoy danger and death!"

Victor looked at him.

Kennedy's face was resolute, "If a just cause requires sacrifice, then why can't it be me? The sky should be blue, and it must be blue!"

"Wait! Just wait!"

Victor murmured.

Wait and see what the DEA has to say!

...

"Hahahaha! Blanco~"

In Pablo's "manor."

Upon hearing that his elder sister was coming, he personally went out to greet her, embracing the Black Widow as she got out of the car.

"Do we need to be so polite with each other?" Blanco said with a smile, her double chin still trembling. Although she said this, she was still pleased that the other party had shown her respect.

"This is my fiancé, Victor Hunter," she introduced the "God of Guns" standing next to her.

Upon hearing this, Pablo narrowed his eyes, looking at the man. He had seen him before; Blanco had brought him along, but he thought the elder sister was just playing around. Who knew she was serious?

This must be the fourth one, right?

The previous three had all died.

But it seemed like the previous ones had never been brought here before. What did this visit mean?

"Mr. Pablo," Ethan Hunt greeted respectfully, not daring to make eye contact, his facial expression a perfect mix of apprehension but not overly so.

This acting skill, worthy of the God of Guns.

Men reveal their true feelings when they're slightly drunk, and you speak until you bring me to tears.

Pablo glanced at him but didn't extend his hand. What kind of person was he? The President of Colombia had to be the first to reach out when shaking hands with him.

That's how arrogant he was!

"Let's go inside and talk."

Pablo led them into the house, where the servants were cleaning the dining table, using what seemed to be real silk cloths.

The material used for Persian carpets was just like this.

The luxury of the wealthy ignited a flame of envy in Ethan Hunt.

"Three cups of coffee, please."

The maid hurriedly acknowledged the order.

Pablo, with his legs crossed, said, "Blanco, did you want to see me because there's something you need my help with? Just say it directly."

"I know that the North American Association is going to be established, and I would like you to arrange a position for Victor. It doesn't have to be too high; I'm aware of his capabilities, but I don't want him to be idle. Men tend to go to waste if they've nothing to do."

At this, Pablo laughed, "Is that all? Of course, there's no problem. If it weren't for you, perhaps I'd still be stealing cars on the streets. Medellin is mine, but it's also yours."

Blanco had personally led this younger brother into the drug trafficking business.

Hearing this, Blanco's eyes revealed a moment of reminiscence.

She clearly remembered those times when she had already been mixed up with her second husband, earned her first ten million US dollars, and bought luxurious cars and houses in Santa Fe de Bogota.

But that kid, along with a few others, stole her car.

They were caught by her bodyguards.

While the other kids scattered, Pablo had pulled out a knife, fiercely intending to rob her.

Blanco admired his ferociousness, and still remembered the first thing she said to him, "Robbery is the stupidest way to make money."

"Then what makes the most money?"

"Drug trafficking!"

From that moment on, Pablo followed her.

"It's been almost thirty years in the blink of an eye, hehehe."

Life is always so fascinating. If she had let her bodyguards shoot back then, would there be one less drug lord who shocked the world?

Just like...

Henry Tandy spared a corporal.

Ethan Hunt sat quietly beside them, a man of few words, silently listening as he pondered.

He absolutely could not marry Blanco.

This was his first marriage, and he still wanted to see the world, with so many young girls around. He surely couldn't stay beside a woman on her fourth marriage with unstable emotions, right?

Even if the boss raised his salary, promoted him, and gave him a house, he wouldn't do it.

Maybe introduce Jeff Bennett to her?

A good buddy, they could be gigolos together.

"Bolivia needs a person in charge; let him go there," Pablo said, happy to do her the favor.

Blanco frowned upon hearing this place mentioned.

This location was a bit problematic. Since its independence in 1825 until the 1980s, over these more than a hundred years, the Bolivian people not only experienced military defeat and territorial cessions but also saw over 180 coups, with six presidents dying by assassination...

During the GM period, President Villarroel was killed in a coup, and his corpse was hung from a street lamp in the Presidential Palace square.

Isn't that terrifying?

"Don't worry, the association is collaborating there with a person of real power, who has thousands of men under him, enough to ensure his safety," Pablo reassured her when he saw her worried expression about her "little puppy" being blown up.

Blanco's expression relaxed.

But Ethan Hunt became anxious—what a joke, why should he go to Bolivia?

"I won't go!" he suddenly exclaimed.

This surprised both Pablo and Blanco, the former furrowing his brows in dissatisfaction, thinking that the other party didn't want to endure hardship.

"What I mean is, which region of the North American Association is the most dangerous?"

"Mexico and the United States."

"I want to go to Mexico."

Upon hearing this, Blanco was taken aback, "Victor..."

"Blanco, when I, Victor, do things, I either don't bother, or I do it the best. I don't want people to say I'm living off a woman. Since you've offered me the opportunity, I want to achieve something and show you," he said.

"Bolivia is too safe; I've always enjoyed danger."

"Please send me to the most dangerous place."

Pablo looked at him with a different kind of respect.

"I want our future children to be able to say, their father was the best!"

Blanco's first husband was a forger, the second a drug trafficker but just a small fry who, after getting her involved in the business, lay around the house all day indulging in vice; the third was a useless pretty boy.

This fourth one... so MANLY!

His tone was full of ambition, and that's what Blanco admired.

As he spoke, Blanco's eyes almost melted with adoration.

Women actually like manly men, and a bit of machismo is endearing.

Ethan Hunt, when he spoke, each word struck right at Blanco's heart.

"Pablo, let's do as he says."

"My man..."

Blanco looked at Ethan Hunt with deep affection, "is destined to be a hero."