Working as a police officer in Mexico

Startled, the opponent jerked the control stick, but the wings still touched each other a bit, causing violent turbulence on both sides.

He cursed loudly on the public channel, using every curse word he could think of.

"Get lost, or I'll crash into you!"

The American pilot's face darkened, and he said over the channel, "Fine, I'll leave, but I'll be back!"

The F15 sped away rapidly.

In the end, he still didn't dare to fire.

See, that's the Americans for you. They shout at you, but if you point a knife at them, they won't say a word, typical bullies who fear the tough.

Actually, think about it...

After WWII, which strong countries has the United States fought?

They fought East University, and MacArthur turned into "Santa Claus."

Later they bullied Vietnam, of course, they were also beaten terribly by Vietnam, with nearly 60,000 dead.

And after that...

Look at the countries they've been fighting?

Panama, Guatemala, Grenada, damn, some you haven't even heard of, so if you're just a bit tough, and have more cards in hand, the U.S. Military... haha, just a paper tiger.

Mexico Time, March 3, 1993, 16:33.

Jimmy Cherizier received news from four or five blocks away.

"The Mexican Army has retreated!"

They had fully occupied the blocks.

"Hahaha, I knew it, Mexicans are just blusterers, just yell at them twice and they'll scatter." Jimmy Cherizier held his gun towards the ceiling, shouting loudly, standing with bloodshot eyes in an abandoned house.

Around him, the subordinates who failed to besiege the Presidential Residence looked dejected, glanced at each other, and cheered perfunctorily, more perfunctory than I am when I serve my wife at night.

The ground 500 meters in front of the Official Residence was littered with corpses, with broken limbs and rivers of blood!

There must be at least 400 or 500 bodies on the ground!

Actually, at this point, the gang members wanted to flee, but this bastard Jimmy Cherizier somehow found a supervisory team that kills anyone who tries to run, making the people very low-spirited.

"What's up? Are you all unhappy?"

He scowled, sweeping his fierce gaze over everyone, seeing a subordinate sitting nearby, the man was trembling violently with his head bowed, and with that, Jimmy became furious, kicking him and then smashing him hard with the gun butt.

"Where's your voice!"

"Haven't you eaten!!"

Jimmy Cherizier was a very violent person...

Ring ring ring—

At this moment, the sound of a phone ringing broke out abruptly, and he turned his head sharply, "Who?!"

"Boss... your phone." A confidant pointed softly to the phone hanging on his waist.

Jimmy Cherizier looked down, then looked up at him and slapped him hard. It wasn't light, almost making the guy dizzy, "Do I need you to tell me!"

Confidant Walter Simmons gritted his teeth, lowered his head, eyes full of resentment, feeling his face burn from the knife-like stares from around him.

Respect?

Not a shred of respect!

"Hello!" Jimmy Cherizier shouted into the phone, but the signal was bad, so he walked out, "Hello, oh, Mr. Gilbert, hello!"

"Good afternoon, buddy, how's the National Palace? Have you dealt with Mr. President?"

"Uh, rest assured, just a little more, soon!"

At this time, in a luxurious mountain-side villa outside Port-au-Prince, beautifully landscaped, with a Cupid fountain in the courtyard, guards patrolled everywhere.

In the study, Gilbert Bego sat up discontentedly after hearing his words, "Didn't I support you with so many weapons, and still can't handle the Mexicans and Cubans? You have over a hundred thousand men!"

"Don't worry, sir..."

"You have less than ten hours. I want to see you kill the President and capture the Mexican Army Commander, or else you know, just as I can support G9, I can also suppress you, Jimmy."

Jimmy Cherizier's eyelids trembled fiercely at these words, his gaze ferocious, a wild dog is still a wild dog when leashed, but for meat, it will drop its pride, he replied sulkily.

After hanging up, he furiously smashed his phone onto the ground, which shattered instantly, cursing in French.

Woo———

As he was getting angry, a whistling sound came from above, as if something was falling, he looked up, seeing an airplane appear in his line of sight!

Moreover, bombs were being dropped below, densely, like it was raining eggs.

Really...

like diarrhea spewing out.

The B—1 bombers can carry 100 MK-77 incendiary bombs, and two have 200!

Of course, they wouldn't carry that many, and the Cuban base didn't have the stock, but the two bombers had over 40!

Jimmy Cherizier's pupils contracted, not having time to react, an enormous blast wave accompanied by fiery flames knocked him flying, rolling a few times in the rubble, covered in blood as he passed out.

Karefu Street, west side of Port-au-Prince.

A medium-sized gang called "Harbor" was active here, with around 4000 members, they took responsibility for creating slaughter locally after the gang riots, ambushing government agencies, the Mexican Army, Cuban patrol police.

But the troops originally competing with them for the block suddenly retreated, the leader Mikhail Van Buren didn't take it seriously, thinking it was because he had bombed them.