novelweb #493 - What do you want? What are you looking at?
#493 - What do you want? What are you looking at?
"Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!!"
In the Oval Office of the White House, Clinton stared wide-eyed, slumped in his executive chair, his suit disheveled and drenched in cold sweat.
A newspaper lay on the desk in front of him.
The headline of the *Mexico Herald* screamed: "Clinton, the American President Hiding in the Sewers!"
The entire article was filled with scandalous revelations. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't be so enraged; he could even resort to legal means to defend his reputation.
It broke through the siege of other paper media, and other Mexican media outlets, seeing this, hurriedly followed suit, but by then they could only pick up the scraps.
And the news media in neighboring America also reprinted it...
Besides this, television news and entertainment tabloids also jumped on the bandwagon, and in an instant...
The name of F.O. Westbrook resounded throughout the country.
All in just two days.
It is said that Cuban national television has already begun broadcasting it.
Clinton, who had painstakingly gained a foothold by playing the sympathy card after his wife was bombed to death, was now teetering on the brink once more.
He roared like a madman in his office, completely out of control...
Secret Service Director Richie Miller watched him with a complex expression.
He was in great pain…
In fact, he also had a hand in Ángel's survival, secretly protecting him in the shadows. Otherwise, wouldn't it be easy to kill someone without power or influence?
He had a very good relationship with Ángel, but sometimes… reality is so helpless.
"Find someone to kill them, Richie!"
"Ángel Ureña is a traitor. He betrayed America…"
Hearing this, Richie Miller couldn't help but speak, "Sir, he didn't betray Ame…"
"He betrayed me!"
"I am America, I am the government!"
Before Richie Miller could finish speaking, Clinton abruptly interrupted him, shouting angrily.
The Secret Service Director looked at him in shock…
He had known the man for over a decade, and he had always been gentle and refined. Of course, he had seen him angry before, but never so hysterical, like…
A rabid dog who had lost his mind.
This description flashed through his mind.
Clinton slammed his hand on the table, his eyes bloodshot, panting heavily, "Find someone to kill them both for me, CIA or FBI…"
As if deliberately provoking him, Richie Miller said, "Both departments have suffered major setbacks in Mexico, I'm afraid they don't have the capacity for the time being…"
"Then find someone from the black market, 1 million? 2 million? 5 million!"
"I don't believe that money can't get the job done."
"Sir, calm down…"
"I can't calm down!"
Clinton walked around the table and stood directly in front of Richie Miller, his eyes filled with madness, "I've struggled for decades to get to this position, I can't lose, if I lose I'll have nothing left. I haven't even made enough money for the capitalists yet. If I step down, will they let me go?"
"I'll suddenly fall ill tomorrow!"
As he spoke, he seemed frightened and actually… actually started to cry.
This made Richie Miller feel somewhat at a loss.
Clinton grabbed his hand, "Help me, Richie, you're the only one I have left now, help me, for the sake of our long relationship, help me, help me."
He was a mess of snot and tears.
If it were before, Richie Miller might have felt some guilt, but since Ángel was abandoned by him, he only felt fear towards Clinton…
Friend?
Companion?
Even lover?
For him, they were all dispensable people.
He abandoned him, so wouldn't he abandon me sometime too?
If I help you find someone to kill him, and it fails, or things get out of hand, wouldn't you just push me out?
Some things, once done, people will remember!
Richie Miller wasn't a fool. He pulled his hand back, looked into Clinton's eyes, and shook his head, "The Secret Service still has some work to do, I'll go and busy myself first. Calm down, sir, God will bless you."
After he finished speaking, he left the office in the other's shocked and angry gaze.
Oh, before leaving, he didn't forget to close the door behind him.
Clinton was so angry… so angry that he was shaking. He grabbed the documents on the table and threw them on the ground, wanting to overturn the table, but it was too heavy, he didn't have the strength…
He used all his strength on the interns.
"Bastard! Mongrel!!"
He roared in the office, trembling as he struggled to get up. No, he couldn't give up just like that, he had to find someone to clarify that these were all slanders.
He wanted to make a phone call, but looking at the severed phone line, he angrily stomped on the phone with his foot, cursing loudly.
Suddenly…
His pupils shrank, and his whole body began to sweat and tremble.
Clinton trembled as he opened the drawer and saw a paper bag on the bottom layer. It was packaged with a lion stepping on the earth on both the left and right sides, but unlike the Golden Triangle's "Two Lions Stepping on the Earth", it was colored, and the lion also had wings.
Next to it was written: "Hell 2!"
Ye Zhenli's X-rated new drug. Number 1 is circulating all over the world, while Number 2 is mainly aimed at the rich and powerful.
Since the beginning of the Mexican-American drug war, this guy actually wanted to cause trouble, but…
The soldiers he found couldn't beat the local National Guard, and were almost wiped out. No matter how awesome Ye Zhenli was, you only had rifles, while people were starting to install small rapid-fire cannons on their Humvees.
Mexican military industry produced: RMK30 automatic recoilless gun!
What are you going to fight with?
You drug dealers have no future…
It is said that Ye Zhenli took his people and ran to Guatemala, and some say he went to the United States, but who knows. But his "Hell 1" earned him a lot of money.
The world's drug dealers are celebrating!
A 10 USD Hell 1 can be increased by 60 times if you transport it to northern Mexico, and 130 times if you transport it to Cuba, of course, provided you have the life to do so.
But this world has never lacked desperate people.
When did Clinton start taking drugs?
Maybe it was when he was studying. (True story, he did drugs.)
"Hell 2" has several modes. Opening the package, inside is an injection syringe. Clinton stuck it into his arm...
"Ah ~"
A burst of ecstasy escaped from his mouth.
Rotten!
Really rotten…
The President of the United States is taking drugs in the office!
One wasn't enough, he opened two more...
The injected amount was a bit large, and it immediately occupied the high ground of reason. He felt a little hot and flustered, and took off his clothes in a daze. His eyes began to blur...
He even saw hundreds of women he had played with in front of him…
They were wearing bikinis and smiling at him…
Clinton stood up, a lewd smile on his face. He reached out his hand to hug her, but she flashed away, dodging him, and beckoned to him.
He took off his clothes one by one, completely naked…
Then, he opened the door and walked out!
This is the West Wing office, outside is an office area group, a group of White House staff are working…
"Anna, could you get me a coffee, please…" A white woman wearing glasses was busy at her computer, calling out to her assistant, but there was no response. Puzzled, she turned around and saw the assistant standing there, looking in one direction with a terrified expression.
The white woman stood up, confused…
She saw Clinton walking out naked, chuckling to himself.
"OMG!"
Meanwhile, near the window, a black man picked up a camera from a drawer… *click*, the sound was very clear at that moment.
"No photos! Everyone sit down!"
Alerted by the commotion, a Secret Service agent rushed over and took off his suit jacket, intending to cover Clinton, but Clinton, completely high, grabbed him and started kissing him.
"Sir, sir…"
"OMG! OMG! Get him off! Damn it…"
"Quick, goddamn it, he's pulling my pants down!"
The Secret Service bodyguard frantically pulled Clinton away. Richie Miller, arriving on the scene, was utterly disappointed.
Clinton…
Also a waste!
"Drag him back to the office, call a doctor." He issued the order decisively, then turned his gaze to the staff in the work area, narrowing his eyes. "No one is allowed to leave for the time being. Also, if anyone took photos, delete them."
After giving the instructions, he went to check on Clinton with a gloomy face.
The staff looked at each other…
Wow!
They just watched a free show.
The President running around naked in the office area.
"I feel like America is doomed. I even have the urge to leave America," a senior employee shook his head, muttering to himself.
His voice wasn't soft, and many people heard him.
No one refuted…
And couldn't refute.
Richie Miller walked into the office and immediately saw the needle on the ground. He was filled with anger and started hitting Clinton left and right, leaving him with a bloody nose and a swollen face.
The Secret Service bodyguards didn't dare to step forward to dissuade him, they could only look at each other.
After tiring himself out, Richie Miller let go and tore off his badge from his chest, throwing it on Clinton's face, and left without saying a word.
"Director… Director, what are you doing?" A bodyguard couldn't help but ask.
"I quit, it's too embarrassing!"
Richie Miller left. Seeing him walk out, the staff who were whispering immediately fell silent. Everyone closed their mouths, but their eyes were full of gossip.
Sigh…
From top to bottom, they have no sense of shame.
He walked downstairs, stood at the entrance, and looked up at the misty sky, feeling lost for a moment…
Just then, his cell phone rang in his inner pocket.
He didn't want to answer, but the other party persisted…
"Hello."
"Richie, long time no see." The familiar voice on the other end made his pupils constrict.
"Angel…"
"Don't you think Clinton's dick is ugly? Hahaha, I didn't expect a president to be addicted to drugs to this extent."
?!?!?!
"How do you know?!" Richie Miller said in shock.
Angel sat in his office, holding a cup of coffee, "The greatness of Mexico is intoxicating, and naturally many people are willing to join us in overthrowing tyranny."
Everyone under heaven is connected to Mexico!
Richie Miller was really scared. He ordered a lockdown, and then in the blink of an eye, the other party knew. What does this mean?
It means that the Secret Service and even the President's side are full of Victor's people.
This is terrible!
It turns out that all his efforts were like mockery in the other party's eyes.
"Come to Mexico, Richie, you're only 40 years old. America can't fulfill your political ideals, but Mexico can. Come, I've already applied to the General, and he welcomes you. You can go to the army to train special forces soldiers, or you can come to the North American Affairs Bureau as Deputy Director."
Angel invited him sincerely.
"I'm an American!"
"Your grandfather was French, and your mother was Nigerian, brother… you're an immigrant. Authentic Americans have become scalps hidden in museums."
"……"
"You resigned. Do you think Clinton will let you go? No, he won't let go of everyone who knows this secret today. You… are not far from death!"
Richie Miller's pupils shrank.
"It doesn't matter if you die, your children, your wife, will be like me, hahaha!"
Angel's laughter on the other end sounded like a villain.
"Think about it carefully, there's not much time left. But, it's best to hurry up, our intelligence department won't rescue a dead man."
After speaking, he hung up the phone.
Richie Miller's hand was still by his ear, his eyes were somewhat scattered.
Angel's office.
Casale sat on the sofa, raising his eyebrows, "Will he come?"
"Who knows? The path is open to him, whether he comes or not is up to him."
Fatty Casale nodded upon hearing this, changing the subject, "Have the lists of those bought off in the United States and Canada been compiled yet?"
"Still compiling, I need funds."
"Okay, 6 million US dollars will be allocated to you. I hope your North American Bureau does a good job. Most importantly, the General wants to do something big, first bring down the Canadians, that place is too peaceful and doesn't suit our interests. Mess them up."
"North America only needs a stable Mexico."
Angel nodded vigorously, "Leave it to me!"
An "American traitor" is really useful. No, at this time, he should be called a Mexican comrade!
…
Manhattan, New York City.
The intersection of First Avenue and East 42nd Street.
Joachim von Ribbentrop looked up at the United Nations Headquarters building in front of him, the Mexican representative had a smile on his face.
Behind him followed thirty or forty men and women wearing black suits, each with pride on their faces. They have returned!
"Mr. Joachim, what does Mexico's re-entry into the United Nations represent?" A reporter handed over a microphone.
"It represents that the influence of hegemony on the world is like dog shit. We have told everyone that the United States is a paper tiger."
Such strong aggression.
The reporters wanted to ask more questions, but were pushed away by the bodyguards.
Joachim von Ribbentrop led his people inside, the neat footsteps causing many people to turn their heads.
He led his people around to the depths of the corridor, a place without reporters.
They saw a scene…
Cubans and Americans were confronting each other at the door, the atmosphere was somewhat tense.
"Are you welcoming me? Gentlemen!"
Joachim von Ribbentrop called out and walked over.
Seeing the Mexicans, the Cubans were immediately overjoyed, while the Americans had gloomy faces.
"Hmph!" The American representative snorted coldly.
"Are you not convinced?"
The Cuban representative suddenly shouted, "Mr. Joachim, he despises you!"
"Oh?"
Joachim von Ribbentrop raised an eyebrow and walked over. He was already tall, standing opposite the American, squinting his eyes, with a fake smile, "You don't respect me?"
The Cubans stood beside him, with their heads raised, pointing at the Americans, looking like they wanted to say CNM.
See that…
My big brother is here!
What do you want to do, what are you looking at!
……