Working as a police officer in Mexico

Heinrich Louis Bodmer had a deep dream.

He dreamt of his Hydra punching the CIA, kicking Mossad, and crushing MI6 to death with one big sit, with everyone chanting my name, praising me as: King of the World.

General Victor bent down to put a medal on me, and entrusted me with important tasks, even supporting me to become the next President of Mexico!

But just as the dream seemed increasingly real, a sudden splash of water jolted him awake.

Heinrich Louis Bodmer slowly opened his eyes, still carrying a trace of fatigue and bloodshot eyes, suddenly feeling pain in his wrist, realizing something was wrong, he quickly lifted his head, only to see Reinhard Tristan Eugen standing in front of him, looking at him with a unfriendly expression.

"What are you doing? What do you want to do! Reinhardt, are you planning a rebellion?!!"

"I think it's you who are rebelling!"

The deputy loudly reprimanded, face serious, "You have lost respect for Mexico City, you have called the general by name more than once, I want to ask you, where is your loyalty? What do you want to do?"

Heinrich Louis Bodmer, dripping wet, the basement was already cold and damp, the water instantly sobered him up, and he suddenly thought of something, glaring, "Was it Vic… the general who asked you to do this? I am a loyalist, I have done merits for the country, I have bled for X Country."

Facing the other's inquiry, Reinhard Tristan Eugen did not respond directly, just stared straight at him.

Of course, he knew the other's loyalty.

And it was the kind of die-hard loyalty.

But he always flaunted his achievements, what's that supposed to be?

He could completely report to the general, saying that he was speaking disrespectfully, intending to claim Hydra for his own use, and he was indeed doing so, planning to use the intelligence network for personal gain, and quite a substantial amount.

As far as he knew, Heinrich had 17 mistresses!

Damn…

Can you handle all that?

"Let me go, I want to explain to the general myself."

Reinhard Tristan Eugen looked down upon him, snorted a laugh, and walked out of the basement without looking back.

"Come back, come back, Reinhardt, I'll f**k your ancestors." The other party roared hysterically, but was only greeted by the wooden bolt slowly closing the basement, and the sunlight being cut off.

Reinhardt walked up to see the Hydra high-ups waiting anxiously in the living room.

"Now, what do we do? Should we notify the general?" someone asked urgently.

"I think we should just do away with him and say he attempted a rebellion!"

You say one thing, I say another, making Reinhardt's head hurt.

"Stop, stop, stop!"

He shouted three times, and once everyone quieted down, he looked at the crowd, "Kill him? Do you think your lives are too long? He is the Hydra Leader appointed by the General, and only the General can deal with him, but don't worry, I will report this to the General myself."

He patted his pocket, inside of which was a recorder; he had recorded everything the other said while drinking, including his proof of corruption.

Did you think Reinhardt was that foolish?

Would he act without the chance of a fatal strike?

To put it nicely, he didn't want to hear the other constantly criticizing Mexican politics and ridiculing the domestic high-ups, maintaining unity.

To put it directly...

Didn't Reinhardt also want to be the boss of this Hydra!

When it comes down to it, it's all for power, isn't it?

Since ancient times, power struggles have always been knife-edge bloody.

This is an enormous intelligence organization with over thousands of people worldwide, who wouldn't drool over it?

And it just so happens to be at Reinhardt's reach, of course, he's even more unwilling to give it up.

It's only the other party's own fault for being reckless.

"Alright, everyone go rest, today is the general's wedding, I'll talk to him tomorrow."

The other high-ups glanced at each other, nodded, and left.

But they continued to exchange whispers among themselves.

Reinhardt sat on the sofa, lifted the unfinished wine on the table, and toasted the portrait of Victor hanging on the wall, "General, happy wedding!"

…

"Happy wedding!!!"

In Chapultepec City.

Under a ten-tiered cake, all the guests raised their hands, standing next to the newlyweds, loudly shouting toward the camera.

Click, the camera captured the moment.

"Thank you, thank you." Victor smiled gratefully at the people around him.

The weddings and funerals of the wealthy are all stages for social interaction, who would really travel long distances just for blessings? There must be matters to talk about.

But it also illustrates a point.

Victor's influence is increasing, people in Europe are willing to bow down to show him respect.

For instance...

The 72-year-old John Paul II.

He's the Vatican's ruling figure, also known as the Pope.

Many people around greeted him respectfully, although now confined to one place, the power of religion is still… strong.

Victor, because of arresting a Mexican drug-trafficking priest, was rejected by the Latin American clergy, declaring him an alien.

I'll alienate your mother X.

You come over here, I'll appoint you close-range bullet inspector.

It is said that the Liberation Theology in Latin America does not recognize Victor's approach, intending to send people to establish true Marxism.

The old fellow with a round face nodded gently around him, since being assassinated and shot twice in 1981, his health has been deteriorating; being able to come to Mexico, it's already really giving Victor face.