Working as a police officer in Mexico

Netherlands. City of The Hague!

An office of the International Court.

December 2nd, morning, eight o'clock.

The so-called "Victor hearing" was held here.

The decades-old bureaucracy was unusually proactive in this matter.

Great Britain had spent a significant amount of money.

Primarily because Casare's language was just too offensive!

That was our Queen, not some whore's son!

Many Royalists took to the streets to protest, demanding harsh punishment for Mexico's handling of the matter!

How dare they, for we are still an Empire.

Though now we are merely an island, with most of our military bases withdrawn, we are still the British Empire!

Outside the office were swarms of British protesting loudly with flags against Victor's disrespect for the rights of drug traffickers.
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The British representative Lawrence got out of his car, flanked by his secretary, waving to the crowd.

"Mr. Lawrence! What's today's proposal? Will Britain send troops?" a female reporter, buoyed by her assertiveness, pushed her way to the front with her microphone nearly in his face.

"We are very, very reluctant to engage in bloodshed, as it is not in our interest, but we will not allow the emergence of a new demon. During World War II, Churchill led us against the evil Third Reich, and now we still have the ability and the responsibility to deal with actions that trample on human decency. Stay tuned!"

"Thank you!"

Lawrence nodded politely, tugging at his suit, and nodded to the reporters as he entered the courthouse with his secretary surrounding him.

This meeting was not open to the public…

Meaning it was an internal meeting.

After Lawrence entered, a security guard shut the door.

"Eh? Why did that security guard lock the door?" A perceptive reporter couldn't help but murmur softly.

"Hey, what's the big deal? It's just locking a door. Americans even hire prostitutes for their meetings," a colleague casually remarked, head down, reviewing footage on a camera.

"Really…"

That reporter still felt something was off.

Inside the third courtroom, about a dozen people were seated—with the United Kingdom taking the lead, Spain on the flank, and countries from Africa like Mali and Algeria, as well as drug-ravaged nations like Colombia and Guatemala.

When Lawrence entered, everyone stood up.

The British smiled, pleased with their demeanor.

You see, although after World War II it was a Soviet and American world order, Great Britain was still influential, able to sway global affairs.

"Is everyone present?"

"Everyone is here."

Lawrence nodded, "OK, then let's start today's..."

He hadn't finished speaking when suddenly the door was flung open with a bang, and a dozen armed militants burst in, one of them even equipped the two security guards with submachine guns.

!!!!

Lawrence sensed something was wrong immediately and scurried under the table.

The gunmen fired their guns straight away!

Crackling and popping... Thump thump thump!

Bullets shattered papers on the table, and delegates who couldn't dodge in time were riddled with holes, blood mist filling the room.

A militant wearing a skull mask kicked the table and dragged Lawrence out by his hair.

"Don't... I... I."

Have you ever seen an Uzi Submachine Gun pointed at your forehead at close range?

You haven't, have you?

Well, now you have.

The militant pointed his gun at Lawrence's head, pulled the trigger, and fired in rapid succession, clicking...

His face was blasted to bits!

"Did you get that on camera?" the militant asked, his voice raspy as he turned his head.

Another one holding the camera gave an OK sign.

"Send it to the Mexicans, transfer 6 million US dollars to the account in Southeast Asia."

The reward issued by the Governorship of Northern Mexico—that was a 6 million bounty—naturally, someone would take the job. It's just The International Court of Justice in The Hague; they'd even hire peacekeeping forces if you paid them.

South Africa EO Company had even clashed with peacekeeping forces in war zones before; in this world, for money, there are many who would do anything.

In Africa, all it takes is 20 dollars to kill an entire family, isn't that less?

The reporters outside hadn't dispersed yet when the one who felt uneasy about the door locking suddenly perked up, "Did you hear something?"

"A noise? What noise? Haas, why are you so paranoid? This is The International Court of Justice in The Hague. Could they be murdering somebody here? Hahaha..."

His colleague hadn't finished laughing when suddenly they heard a loud crash, and then they saw an armored SUV bursting out from inside???

Followed by motorcycles.

This gang fired into the sky, the sound of gunshots causing the surrounding protestors and reporters to scream and scatter in panic...

Haas, the reporter, ran quickly like Scud missile, darted to the side and dove behind a trash can, laying on the ground, picked up his camera, and snapped a photo through the gap!

Click!

There was the headline for the front page!

"Breaking News! The International Court of Justice in The Hague courtroom attacked!"

The headline instantaneously appeared in leading newspapers of various countries.

Spain, the United Kingdom, Germany…

Haas, the intern, suddenly found fame, with his photo showing the bandits wearing skull masks, holding Uzi Submachine Guns, looking ferocious!

What was even more unconventional was that in certain circles, this kind of mask suddenly became popular.

Hmm…

Just not very proper, that's all.

When Casare heard about this, he was "startled" and wrote a condolence letter overnight to the London side.

Vulgar in speech, licentious in conduct—truly a faithful lackey of Victor.

But inside Mexico, this event did not "affect" them much; they had bigger issues to deal with.