Working as a police officer in Mexico

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"What about the business with the group?"

"They'll hand it over to someone else."

Best hesitated for a moment. Being president was quite comfortable, but he quickly saw through the trickery. Perhaps Victor didn't want his private "little treasury" to be too heavily stamped with Best's mark, making it too big to fail. He nodded readily, "Wherever the boss sends me, I'll go!"

Casare nodded, pleased, "Don't worry, the boss won't let you down. After all, the three of us made our fortunes together. We can share the good times and the bad. The boss doesn't trust anyone else, only you and me."

Best was no Smooth Operator, unswayed by just a few words, but he still had to act thrilled.

"Did we get the manufacturing license and copyright permissions for the NATO weapons?"

"What are those?" Casare was taken aback.

Best was bewildered, blinked, and the two stared at each other, "So, what we're making is fake?"

"No, no, when they blow up, it's all real. Even the explosives are packed with more gunpowder, definitely enough to kill. They're not fake."

"I'm talking about copyright. What if we get sued?"

"Once they're blown up, let them dig through the ground for evidence if they want to sue. Who needs copyright for stuff that kills? Just forget about it." Casare waved dismissively.

I'm out here selling weapons, and you're asking about patents?

You look like a patent!

Best wanted to laugh but felt it was inappropriate, so he just forced a chuckle.

"By the way, the boss has reserved a vice-chairman position for you in the Military Council. You don't need to do anything, just vote. When the time comes, give your approval. This is the next phase's discussion topic; you can have a look first."

Casare handed over a document. Best was still dazed. Since when had he become vice-chairman? My God, what's all this mess!

He opened the proposal and it read right there.

"A Discussion on the Forms of Greeting in Public Areas!"
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It called for the hanging of Victor's portrait in all government institutions and military units and adding "Long live Victor" when greeting and saluting each other.

Seeing this topic, Best's first thought was, what a joke?

His second, damn it, what is this nonsense!

The third, is Victor trying to become a living Emperor?

His hands were shaking, unsure if it was from excitement or fear, but he knew that a certain little mustached man from Germany during World War II had demanded the same thing.

"This is a suggestion from Minister of Propaganda Goebbels, what do you think?" said Casare, eyes fixed on Best, squinting.

"I think it's no problem. Moreover, I think this should extend to the general public. They should do the same, and make 'insulting Victor' a crime." Best answered quickly.

Just like in Thailand with insulting their King, you have to go to jail.

"Of course, that can be done. I'll have it added. Your suggestion is excellent; Victor has given so much to Mexico, and we do need to give him the proper respect."

Shall we build him a temple, too?

And later burn incense for him?

Or kick out the Jesus in the church and let Victor take a seat?

Best internally retorted, but looking at Casare, he knew that if he dared to suggest it, Casare would certainly agree and make sure the proposal mentioned it was his idea, leaving him to take the flak.

"Hey, Victor!"

Suddenly, Best stood up and raised his hand.

This is what it means to be a wise man who knows the current affairs!

After all, the higher Victor stands, the more benefits for himself.

Who would complain about having too many benefits?

Casare was very satisfied.

Best was still all right and hadn't lost his true nature.

Boss, I have evaluated him for you.

In Vienna, Victor certainly didn't know that his trusted subordinate had already prepared a policy to "raise his prestige" and enhance his "personal faith."

Even if he knew, he would have turned a blind eye.

Before Wang Mang usurped the throne, he didn't achieve it all at once; he slowly tested the limits of the people.

If Mexicans could tolerate his "little excesses," then even if you took the throne for the next step, it would be smooth sailing.

After staying in the hospital for "three days," the American representative Asmir Ward came knocking again.

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"Tell him the two 'good news'."

"The first is that the United Nations has decided to expel Iraq!"

"Although they have already informed us they won't send anyone to the United Nations, you announcing it unilaterally is one thing, now they're officially telling you to get lost, which is quite different."

"Is there going to be a war?"

"Soon, probably in the next few months."

Victor nodded, his mind already thinking about who to send, that officer named Rommel was excellent, especially outstanding in the battle of Culiacán!

Maybe he could bring some new surprises?

"And the second thing?"

Asmir Ward glanced at the door behind him, and Victor immediately understood, signaling everyone to leave and guard the door, leaving just the two of them in the room.

"The United States needs you, sir!"

Victor almost laughed, can you not be so serious, what does 'The United States needs me' mean? Does Old Bush want a son? Can't he have one himself, so he sends for me?

Asmir Ward repeated Old Bush's idea of 'donations for military aid,' and Victor's eyes gradually lit up.

"Just 2.5 billion US dollars?"

"Yes."

"I agree!"

"Don't be in a hurry to refuse... What? You agree?" Asmir Ward asked with wide eyes.

Victor nodded vigorously, "Of course! Mexico is America's godson, our bond is clear for heaven and earth to see, it's just 2.5 billion, no problem at all!"

He spoke with such passion and emotion, it moved the heart, Asmir, who had prepared a whole slew of arguments, found himself with no chance to use them.

Brother, are you the American or am I?

Are you planning to be the godson?

Are we positioning ourselves that low?

You make it so awkward for me.

And just 2.5 billion...

Is it that profitable to be a dealmaker?

Asmir Ward's nose turned red with envy, although his position seemed glamorous, he actually earned less than a couple of hundred thousand dollars a year, including a good amount of allowances.

"And besides, America won't let me suffer, right? Can I see what options I have?" Victor filled in the gaps, if you say you don't care and just be polite, and if the Americans take you at your word, that would be quite the joke.

Once I speak up, you'll be embarrassed to take advantage of me.

"Of course, here is everything..." He took out the prepared list of military aid options from his briefcase.

Victor nearly 'snatched' it from him, scanning over it.

5 F14s, these are dream machines, their very design inspires unconditional belief in them.

Looks can certainly fill the stomach!

6 A-10 attack planes, each costing about 11.7 million dollars!

This stuff is perfect for striking drug traffickers.

In close-range mode, there are two patterns, one with 18 227 kg MK82 general-purpose bombs + 750 rounds of 30 mm cannon for a 2-hour battlefield patrol with a combat radius of 463 km.

If it's equipped with 2 AGM-65 'Maverick' air-to-ground missiles + ALQ-131 electronic countermeasure pods + 2 AIM-9 air-to-air missiles + 1350 rounds of 30 mm cannon, the combat radius is 879 km.

"This is all available for military aid?" Victor asked, pointing.

Asmir Ward put on his glasses to take a closer look and nodded, "Everything listed can be had."

The Warthog began development in the '70s and equipped the U.S. Military in the early '80s, its first battle being the 'Gulf War,' which means it hasn't had a chance to perform yet!

But its capabilities continued to shine beyond the Millennium.

Beneath were many other items, from large aircraft to small bullets. Truth be told, Victor was quite satisfied; these weapons could at least arm many troops back home.

But as the saying goes, 'make hay while the sun shines'!

"I think we might be able to discuss this further."

He said with a grin.

...